“Now, I can’t tell you this for sure… I’m not a mind reader.” My therapist squints at me through his camera, my red eyes pixelated on his screen. Zoom therapy allows your therapist into your space, breaking a previously established barrier that prevented them from seeing how you actually live, knowing your true life is separate from the thoughts you spew at them in your once-a-week, 45 minute sessions in their white-walled office.
When you see your own reflection in the corner of the zoom screen with your bedroom in the background, your societal anonymity is dissolved. Suddenly your entire life is up for surveillance — not just the ‘you’ who walks into your therapist’s office still in professional attire, ready to be consumed. Now we exist in a panopticon, prisoners of constant surveillance. This surveillance, unlike that of the prisoner that Jeremy Bentham imagined, is self-inflicted. Unlike you, the prisoner can escape.
In the modern age of surveillance, you can no longer choose to not be seen. This privacy is a luxury, afforded only to those who can pay for it, paying for the ability to be unseen by others around them. However, if you are not in possession of mass wealth, you must exist on this plane, not only allowing yourself to be seen, but fighting to be seen by others. We were all a part of the construction of the panopticon; we kept building until there was no more to build. We have built too high and trapped ourselves inside.
Forcing ourselves down the throats of others, we post multiple times a day, commenting banal compliments and liking, liking, liking. In the online world, you must be perfect and you must be branded. “What is your brand?,” professionals ask you in informational interviews, managers ask you when you ask to be promoted, hungry competitors at networking sessions demand you to answer before thrusting their business card at you. All of the cards look the same, set in Silian Rail on a Bone background, cards of which Patrick Bateman would approve. You must be surveilled, but you must be consistent in the surveillance. If you stray from your brand, you risk exile, as you are unpredictable, a liability.
If you think this is an exaggeration, the words of a rebel without a cause, you can find brand-related exile in Hollywood celebrities like Miley Cyrus. At a young age, she began to rebel against the brand she was assigned. She was punished for it terribly, being assigned a new brand: “slut.” Cyrus sings about this on the album Plastic Hearts (2020). In the song “Golden G-String,” Cyrus sings that she’s “worn the Golden G-String/Put [her] hand into hellfire.” The dangers of betraying her brand associated with Hannah Montana, the danger of letting the wig burn as she rebelled, was evident in the media backlash that Cyrus endured while still in her teenage years. She sings about the duality of craving audience approval while still fighting to be human, continuing with the line “I did it all to make you love me, and to feel alive.”
Celebrity culture has rocketed to new levels in the recent years with the increase in consumption of media in the United States. In a 2019 study conducted by Hootsuite and We Are Social, results found that Americans are spending 100 days a year online. Every day, the average American spends 6 hours and 31 minutes online, with some heavier users spending even more — just check your screen time! With the increased presence of celebrities in our lives through different media channels, the term “parasocial” has been thrown around in many online communities to explain a trending phenomenon.
The term “parasocial” was created in 1956 by psychologists Horton and Wohl to describe a one-sided relationship, typically present between an audience member and someone on-screen. This is definitely not a new trend — young people have been hanging up posters of people for years, whether it be a sports star or a beloved celebrity. The dangers of parasocial relationships have been obvious for years, even proving deadly when a fan of Selena, Latin pop superstar, murdered her in a hotel room in 1995. This phenomenon is not new. However, it has risen to new levels as screen time steadily increases.
Social media was created with the purpose of connecting to those who you do not see in your everyday life, then began to shift and also became a way that you share with the people you are around. Constant, nearly obsessive, use by an entire generation has created an unforeseen social sphere and is seeping into the habits of the older generations to create an alternate world. Our lives are being shaped by online transactions, whether it be Facebook event invites, Instagram DMs, or swiping right on a dating app. The internet is no longer a crutch, it has become essential in a social sense.
Many conversations that I have with casual acquaintances revolve around social media. This has only become increasingly obvious after I deleted my Twitter and Instagram. Without it, I am unable to banter about the latest celebrity mishap, brand apology, or, on a smaller level, the activities of those in our outer social circles. Living “off the grid” is virtually impossible in the modern era — the world moves quickly on the screens, and you can quickly be lost, left behind by the accelerated life of social media.
This accelerated life has an element of fiction, of the parasocial relationships, as the Instagram accounts of celebrities appear in the same feed as people you know personally, creating a false feeling of connection and awareness about a foreign life. Kim Kardashian may post so many photos of her home that you know the floor plan, but you have never been there, nor will you ever be.
The Kardashians have created a new era of falsity, enabling other people to become celebrity “influencers,” famous for nothing but social media appeal. One such example of someone who controlled a mass platform is David Dobrik, a man who constantly videoed his Los Angeles lifestyle, inviting viewers in, engaging fans to make them feel as if they knew him personally. Recently, Dobrik was tied to a series of bad behavior and publicly called out for enabling male predators with his platform. Even then, the fans remain loyal, lamenting his public dismissal as if they have lost a friend… and in a way, they have.
Observing these phenomenons, one must wonder what the extent of the impact on “real-life” relationships, ones with individuals in your social circle, have been. We are all branding ourselves into little boxes and living an inauthentic life online, where success is measured by numbers. In Seinfeld, Jerry having three friends would not be a viable plot today. Jerry would be forced to spend time with a larger social circle, spending money and taking pictures to post about his lifestyle. After all, if you don’t post it on Insta, how will people know that you spent $45 at brunch? If you don’t spend 10 minutes taking pictures of you and your friend, how will people know that they are your friend?
We live our lives for media consumption. This is reflective of the state of surveillance — we are being watched, but we are also enabling the watchers. Content is posted for hungry audiences who scroll through hundreds of pictures a day, liking and commenting on the ones they deem worthy. The judge, jury, and executioner are all members of your social group, so it is important to maintain your brand — don’t surprise them or stray from the norm, or you may be exiled, or worse, get no likes.
The screens watch us no matter where we go. Your phone sits upright on your bedside table at night, never far from reach. Five hours of each day is spent watching television. Your phone, your tablet, your laptop, and your television are used each day. Don’t get me wrong — there are many, many good things that have come from the increased accessibility of the internet. We just must remain cautious of the bad things.
I sit in my bedroom, staring at my computer screen as I tell my therapist I am tired. Tired of the constant performance, tired of the surveillance. “Now, I can’t tell you this for sure… I’m not a mind reader.” My therapist squints at me through his camera, my red eyes pixelated on his screen. “But it seems that you have a racing mind, full of many thoughts.” He tells me to stop focusing on what others think of me and on what I feel. I know this is not possible to do if I live on my screens, I know that I must tear myself away and experience life without the blue tint and the brands.
