Although our smartphones have made life easier through the instantaneous access to information, entertainment, shopping, and other life necessities or wants, it has also taken a huge toll on our overall health, both physically and mentally. In my case, reviewing my increasing screen time each week is a constant reminder of the lack of progress towards my goal and inability to change a bad habit.
As the new decade dawned, I sat at my computer for an entire day, attempting to make good on a promise to my child. "Attempt" is the right word, because it was surprisingly difficult to purge my social media of posts involving her. Even after five passes, Instagram mysteriously unearthed additional photos, trapping me in a seemingly unwinnable game of Whack-A-Mole. You can bring your child into the digital world, but it isn't so easy to take them out.
About six years ago, some colleagues and I published research that indicated that increased time on the social media platform, Facebook, was linked to depressive symptoms among young people. The studies, which served as the basis for the article, were, of course, not conducted during a major global pandemic. So even during the best of times when the economy is booming and people feel relatively safe, they tended to suffer from mental health consequences as a result of spending too much time on social media.
From Facebook ad boycotts, alignment with #BlackLivesMatter, to ditching names like Aunt Jemima: social activism is the latest must-have for brands. But should you jump on the bandwagon? And how do you make the shift without getting labeled as inauthentic, especially if your brand has never talked about these issues before?
As the media's outreach has expanded over the years with the rise of technology and social media platforms, representation has become a more prominent and debated issue among the public. Media outlets and platforms that primarily use images to engage with their audience, have an enormous responsibility in shaping how people perceive reality, as well as their roles within it.
I built my beauty brand, Frilliance, off of my YouTube following. At the time I launched Frilliance, I had around 500,000 subscribers. My other social media channels were not as strong as my YouTube following, so I leveraged that platform in particular both to launch my brand and leading up to the launch. Through my videos, I encouraged my subscribers to join the email, text, and Instagram for Frilliance. I didn't want to rely on my YouTube channel as my only way to market and sell Frilliance.
A message to CEOs, business leaders, and white people in general. For the past five years, I have worked with a grassroots organization, I Grow Chicago, to heal the root causes of trauma and violence in Englewood, a neighborhood that is 95% Black and 100% low-income. As I've engaged with this work, it has become increasingly clear that the root causes of trauma and violence in our community boil down to racism and white supremacy.
Some outfits will forever remain ingrained in our subconscious long after we remove the clothes from our bodies. These articles of clothing often remind us of pivotal memories, from the first day of middle school to our senior prom. If you are fortunate, your garment will never carry traumatic memories, but for those who are victims of rape escaping these memories is almost impossible.
Have you noticed how more than ever — as we look for ways to safely socialize at a distance — people are going "live" on their Instagram or Facebook? Whether for personal reasons or business, it's a big fear for a lot of us. I was terrified too, until I bit the bullet and finally clicked that "live" button. Turns out, it's not as scary as I thought! So I decided to put together a few tips that I thought might be helpful for getting over that anxiety and fear.
Somewhere between the end of myspace and the birth of IG stories, self-love became trendy. And not trendy in the we all love ourselves type of way, but trendy in this elusive thing we all needed and could only achieve by posting images of ourselves on social media platforms. As if our confidence was not enough or real unless someone else could see it and validate it for us.
I'm 34 years old. I have been in a relationship for the past six years. I am also unmarried, and I have no kids. Too often, I scroll through Instagram and look at the endless women who are pregnant or who already have beautiful families. After trying to conceive for over two years, seeing other people's "haves" on the internet often makes me feel my "have nots" to an extreme. Every time I see a pregnancy announcement, or even an engagement—even though I am in no rush to get married—it makes me feel lesser. I get suck in a "Why not me?" mentality.