Authenticity Has Eras Too: On Identity & the (Instagram) Boxes We Find Ourselves In
Plus personal pics from eras-past
I’ve typed and re-typed this opening sentence multiple times, struggling with where exactly to begin; where to start, what to say, how best to express myself. Trying to breathe life into what was once only black and white.
And that’s the whole point—it’s messy. It’s nonlinear. It’s defining, redefining, redlining and editing not only what I want to say, but who I want to be.
Identity is like this.
Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones and have always known who you are (you’re probably a defined G center in human design)—though I catch myself even here, because in my beliefs/values system, that’s actually not lucky, coming out thinking we’re fully formed, because then we miss the transformation piece, the caterpillar-turned-liquid-goo in the chrysalis, the dripping juice from a ripened peach (probably weird to stack those metaphors so close together), the “FLAME ON!!!” power of a phoenix on fire, bound for her next version.
It’s the continual shapeshifting that lends itself to unfathomable magic and unearths the authentic self over time.
And that’s what’s been coming up for me the past few days, this ever-changing portrait of who I am. I noticed it the most yesterday, when I felt…honestly, totally badass-confident and sexy in my outfit, with my hair and makeup done in the way that makes me feel most like me. But it wasn’t the aesthetics that made me feel powerful—it was the sense that I was connected to my authenticity and love at a deep level, from how that day unfolded.
After devoting the morning to myself, I met Jake for lunch (also low-key wanted him to see my look and appreciate it as much as I did. #human). And I kept having this thought pop into my head while we were at the coffee shop: “Ask him to take your picture.” And then I’d have ideas of which poses to do to make the photo visually intriguing and interesting, rather than the usual “Here’s me standing and smiling awkwardly at the camera” pose we all have stuck the landing on with the precision of an Olympic gymnast.
I waved the thought away, replying in my head, “No. That will take me out of the moment, and he might think I’m shallow if I ask. That’s not who I am in the context of this relationship.”
So we took our coffees to the park and on the way, we passed a wooden wall that I thought would make my neon orange and lime green vest pop (yes, I was wearing a vest. But it’s not like other vests—it’s a cool vest). My thoughts snapped a photo of me standing in front of the wall, doing a high kick. I waved it away, and we continued on to our spot on the grass.
As we spent time talking, reading and relaxing, the thought wouldn’t leave me alone. My mind kept showing me posing in front of that wall urging me to just ask. “You spent so much time and effort on yourself this morning,” my thoughts whispered. “You expressed yourself through your appearance and cultivated confidence and energy as a result, something you feel has been missing from your life for months. Take a picture of this moment. Document it. You don’t have to share it, just preserve the moment. This is a part of you, too.”
And yet still, I felt awkward and weird about asking, like if I asked him to take my picture, I was an inconvenience; that he would find it annoying or think less of me. These were of course projections from my past—my ex husband often diminished my creativity, shamed my outfits and scoffed or rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly took my photo for my blog, Instagram and my Etsy business (all were fused together and represented expressions of myself and my creativity).
So naturally, I was a little apprehensive to ask Jake, fearing I might be met with the same reaction of relationships-past. Would he think I was full of myself for wanting a photo of my outfit? (Somehow it’s totally fine when my friends and I snap photos, but it hits different when it’s my romantic partner).
As we left the park and passed that wall again, I turned toward Jake.
“Will you take a quick little video of me in my outfit?” I asked sheepishly, handing him my phone.
“Absolutely!” he said, beaming.
Even after, I felt a little silly and awkward, and it took me until recently, when I shared a vulnerable post on Instagram, to realize the breadth of what that experience meant—why the thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone, what curiosity led to, and how I’m learning to integrate the two most standout versions of me: the colorful, bubbly, sweet (& ultra feminine) version of my past with the philosophical, deep, powerful, more masculine version of my present.
In either case, the common denominator is love.
And it took that day with Jake, this simple experience of him taking my photo, for me to realize that how I present on the outside—what I’m interested in, what “aesthetic” I’m currently working with, how I look or what I do—doesn’t define me. None of those—even writing—are the whole of my identity.
Love is the identity. Love is the most authentic of selves.
The journey to unearth the authentic self is one of constant becoming, and in the age of technology (especially as a millennial), I feel like mine has been largely public. I’ve existed in various online spaces since the AOL and Livejournal days (god I wish I could find my old LJ—emo poet GOLD) and have been numerous versions of myself.
I’ve been on my own Eras tour for years now, moving through various identities, styles and interests each with its own unique version of healing through self-expression and challenges, and every era has inched me closer to the real me. I’ve had my brooding artist era, my Disney era, my fashion blogger era, my Lilly Pulitzer preppy era, my badass villain early-Mav era, my hermitting goblin “who am I?” era, and now—my integration era, where I fuse all of those together and allow for each version to be expressed in some form, in some way, and to show that multifaceted expression to the world.
But when you grow up online and experience a good chunk of it on Instagram, we gravitate towards certain interests and build an identity around them, and Instagram literally puts us in boxes.
If you want to grow on social media, the rule is simple: pick a niche, post consistently, and play the algorithm’s game. So I tried. For years in various iterations. I became heavily ingrained in the Disney-adult community (don’t roll your eyes. I stan Disney adults as some of the kindest people you will ever meet). I found my way to a very niche community of Lilly Pulitzer-loving women and revamped my wardrobe. I posted colorful outfits against aesthetic backdrops and began combining my love of writing with Instagramming.
And then post-awakening, I cold-turkey deleted a 14k Instagram account to start over from a more authentic place and shared philosophical thoughts and vulnerable poems—but none of it stuck. Subconsciously, I kept running a subtle script of, “Is this good enough to post? Is this what they want from me?”
It also continually made me question my self-worth when all of my outfit posts were seen and praised, while my thoughts, ideas and raw-in-the-moment photos were continually met with little to no engagement or acknowledgement (and thank god for that because it helped me dismantle so many limiting beliefs around worth, value, and the false mirror of social media and pulled me into the depths of my Chiron to heal it).
With each version, I tried to build community by becoming part of one that already existed but nothing felt Goldilocks. Eventually, it felt too this or too that; never just right. Nothing major ever came of each industry or community I inserted myself into, and I felt like I was editing myself down to meet someone else’s standards in a sense. While I never got significant exposure or saw my following explode like others in the same niches as me that began around the same time, I experienced exponential growth where it counts the most—internally—and through it all, I learned (and continue to learn) valuable lessons through polarity and change, the most profound of them being, when all else is gone, love remains.
From the years of internal struggle and continual excavation of self, I’ve arrived here as this version of me, the magical overall container housing and welcoming all parts of self that makes room for each of them to be safely expressed. I also know that each version is temporary, and through love, that’s become ok. I don’t need to white-knuckle any one version. All of it is flowers in a field, paint on a canvas, facets on a diamond. Life is a series of continually expressing parts of the whole.
I never flourished in those prior spaces long term because I will never be niche. I need room to explore and express all of it. I’m in full hot pursuit of my own authenticity and the entire scope of my love and that looks like many different things.
I want to share my unhinged outfits and cry-worthy poems. My solo trips and spirituality memes. My inner Disney kid and my wise, poet-philosopher self. I don’t want to talk about some things all of the time. I want to talk about all the things some of the time.
And I realized I had this limiting Instagrammable boxed-in ideal that it had to be one or the other and that posting outfit photos on my mainly-writing-account made me seem “less deep.” And what’s interesting about that is that I don’t judge anyone else for posting fashion snaps, yet I was judging myself for it. We’re always hardest on ourselves, and extending the same grace to ourselves that we do for others sounds easy in theory (and is often advice I’ve given), yet when applied to us? Hard to do, at times. It’s that #human part again, ya know?
Authenticity isn’t photos on an Instagram account. It’s the full permission to be yourself, all of yourself, on your own terms, without making limiting definitions of what it means if you revisit—and post—a past version. And the magical ripple effect here is that when we give ourselves that permission, we create space for others to do the same.
Authenticity isn’t stripped back and limited to one topic, one version or one interest. Authenticity thrives on sharing all parts of self beyond what we think others will want, accept or expect and definitely beyond what an algorithm perpetuates as “trending.” We’re here to be whatever we want to be, as many times as we want to be it, because that’s what authenticity is: full permission to be yourself.
And if that means posting a pic of me in mickey ears one day and a fiery feminist burn-down-the-patriarchy poem the next, I can do that, because I am both of those things. I’ve expanded the definitions of what posting those things mean. We can be this and that, and they don’t require separate “platforms” to express them.
In any case, on any platform, in any version or era we enter, the meaning is rooted in love & honoring our spirits.
At its core, authenticity is about allowance: letting different voices, styles, and expressions coexist. The internet has the potential to support that, but most platforms reward what’s popular, not what’s real. That’s why so much content feels the same. Maybe, deep down, we’ve been afraid of what it would mean if we expanded our identities to include XYZ and ABC and begin sharing new and different things beyond what we think our audiences “want” or “expect.” We fear we’ll lose connection to the communities we’ve worked so hard to cultivate, if we do.
So we withhold. We don’t say the thing. We don’t share what we’ve created. We don’t show those parts of self we fear might get rejected.
But what if that’s the answer? What if change doesn’t threaten community or identity but expands them? And wow, that goes so far beyond how we show up online. Change and integration—growth and love—have always been the answer.
But if these platforms reflect the values of society, and those values are rooted in limitation, fear and lack, then authenticity is the antidote. The more we release the idea that safety means fitting into a box, we expand beyond it and make space for the weird, wild, and wondrous to take root, and we move from the screen to the streets.
That’s how love spreads: one version of ourselves leading the next, spreading love wherever we go. And I for one will be there, clad in a polka dot jumpsuit and mouse ears, offering my poems, my thoughts, my big ideas, encouraging you and cheering you on.
Be yourself. Whoever that is, whatever that looks like. Just don’t box it in. Let it expand and change. Let it be ok to revisit past versions. Let it be ok to show the messy middle. Let it be ok to share the version you’re playing with becoming next. Show all of your eras. Tell us where you’ve been. Allow it all in.
Then come find me.
I will happily take your picture.
📍Updates from the Maviverse
If you liked this article, you might also enjoy:
Ink Speak Episode 27: “The Lion & the Witch Fight Over the Wardrobe” — triggers, patriarchy, and embracing authenticity through clothing
Ink Speak Episode 32: “First things first, I used to be terrified”—Creativity & Authenticity from a Caboose
Want more stories, insights & unhinged outfit photos?
With love & hope always,
Social media and online culture (with its algorithms and filters and metrics) really does threaten authenticity at every turn… especially during those tender years of growing up, then forming identities in relation to that online image… authenticity has always been radical for humans, particularly with the historically ever present patriarchy going back thousands of years. But I think social media presents its own profound challenge for authenticity. Social media, rooted in image and persona and an augmentation of reality, so often creates a split, a fracture of the self: who we are and who we are perceived as… especially since this ‘who we are perceived as’ can LITERALLY be change with filters and ai.
What I think is so cool about this post is hearing how love has kind of healed or integrated this split self between ‘who I am really’ and ‘who I am perceived as on social media.’ That divide or split self is so rampant and deep that I think it is not easily mended, and usually requires sitting with tough feelings, disappointments, and wounds. The joy and love and fullness on the other side of those tough emotions are so wonderful and the freedom to be who we are is such a beautiful thing. Thanks for sharing and power and authenticity to the people!!