How have online communities affected our identity?
I logged into my spam Instagram account, preparing to share a photo of myself that I like—a rare occurrence. My hair is on point, my skin is clear, and the lighting is perfect. I even appreciate my smile—it’s not too staged or casual. Looking at the photo, I think, “Wow, I should show myself more often,” but only under certain lighting—and from a specific angle.
But then I hesitate.
It’s a great picture—almost too great. It’s so good that I consider, “Maybe this should go on my main account.” Suddenly, I can’t simply toss it into my spam account. No, this one deserves a proper debut, a thoughtful caption, and careful timing for posting. It deserves the main stage.
That’s when it hit me how insane this all is.
Like many of us, I manage two distinct Instagram accounts: one where I project an effortlessly cool, artsy persona and act like I have my life all figured out, and another where I aim to be unfiltered, carefree, and uninhibited. Yet here I am—still filtering and overthinking. Even on my spam account, I hesitate and second-guess. I comb through posts, instinctively categorising what’s main-worthy’ and what isn’t—even though my ‘main’ is a carefully curated showcase of my best selfies and moments with friends.
We all have our main Instagram, where we only post when we look good enough, interesting enough, and effortlessly perfect. Then there’s our spam, finsta, our safe digital space where we can be ourselves. Right?
But even that seems misleading.
Even on my spam, I’m still curating. The audience may be smaller—people who know what I look like at my worst. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about their opinions, which is why I try so hard to act like I don’t. If I try to seem indifferent, doesn’t that mean I care?
FRAGMENTED LIVES, FRAGMENTED SELVES
At the beginning of the twentieth century, just 13% of the global population resided in urban areas. Most individuals die close to their birthplace. In your village, everyone has known you for many years and in various contexts. The perspectives of those around you tend to be quite similar, often centred on religion.
With the advent of modernity, everything changed. As urbanisation, industrialisation, and capitalism spread worldwide, our lives have become more diverse and fragmented. Austrian-American sociologist Peter L. Berger notes in his book The Homeless Mind, “Different sectors of … everyday life relate … to vastly different and often severely discrepant worlds of meaning and experience. Modern life is typically segmented to a very high degree.”
In our everyday lives, we navigate numerous environments, each with a unique worldview and knowledge system. You work, socialise with college friends, engage in online communities, call family back home, and visit the doctor. As modernity continues to fragment, these various settings increasingly overlap less.
The fragmentation of our daily lives has led to fragmented communities. In a village a century ago, people would have known you across multiple contexts, recognising you as a complex, multifaceted individual. However, in modernity, individuals may only come to understand specific aspects of you based on their particular context. Consequently, each group of friends may only fulfil a small part of who you truly are. For an increasing number of teenagers, the pressure to perform and curate a personal brand can develop into a habit that worsens, or even leads to, genuine mental health issues. We, as a society, need to confront this troubling trend.
A recent study in Paediatrics found that the proportion of youths experiencing severe depressive episodes rose from 8.7% in 2005 to 11.3% in 2014, while among young adults, it increased from 8.8% to 9.6%. Notably, these increases were pronounced after 2011, possibly linked to increased social media use. Although research on social media’s impact on depression is inconsistent, the timeline is clear: YouTube launched in 2004, Facebook in 2006, Instagram in 2010, and Snapchat gained popularity in 2013.
BRANDED BY THE FEED
Social media platforms once thrived at connecting people, allowing users to stay in touch with friends, family, and creators, while facilitating real-time conversations. However, the shift to algorithm-driven feeds has fundamentally altered user engagement with online content in recent years. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok now prioritise trending or sponsored posts over updates from individual users, consciously undermining these networks’ inherently “social” nature.
This strategic change, driven by the desire for engagement and ad revenue, is beginning to backfire. With personalised feeds limiting organic reach and authentic interactions, users increasingly report feeling disconnected. An analysis by Social Insider of 125 million social media posts from 2023 to 2024 indicated that engagement rates per post fell on TikTok from 2.65% to 2.5% and on Instagram from 0.70% to 0.50% year-over-year.
A recent survey conducted by our company, involving nearly 2,000 U.S. adults, found that 74% feel social media has lost its ‘social’ quality. This underscores the rising demand for genuine connections in our digital interactions. Additionally, half of Gen Z and Millennials—two of the most active demographics on these platforms—seek alternative online spaces to cultivate authentic relationships.
Advertisers, previously eager to utilise social media’s broad reach, also feel this shift’s impact. Returns from social advertising have decreased, partly due to the challenges of targeting and effectively engaging appropriate audiences amid algorithmic content. In February 2025, Admetrics reported that Meta properties accounted for 47.86% of online ad spending, despite a 3.38% rise in CPM and a 4.92% drop in conversion rates, suggesting marketers have become overly reliant on the platform.
The excessive focus on short-form, trend-oriented, and sponsored content has led to a decline in authenticity.
THE ILLUSION OF CHOICE
Recognising the difference between our experiences in the real world and the virtual environment may be difficult. The predictive algorithms make subtle changes to the platform’s design to increase user satisfaction and familiarity. As a result, on online platforms, users discover material relevant to or coming from the outside world, as the virtual system tailors their experience to be pleasant, engaging, or entertaining. Furthermore, user profiles combine what people want to display with data filtered by algorithms for others to view.
The most recent generation of Internet filters examines your perceived preferences—the actual actions you’ve made or the interests shared by comparable users—and attempts to forecast your future decisions. These engines continually create and refine a profile of who you are and what you may desire next. They work together to create a customised universe of information for each user, known as a filter bubble, which radically alters our interactions with ideas and information.
Social networks use algorithms and prediction engines to determine users’ identities and interests. Once enough data is acquired, the program recommends information based on users’ interests, often disregarding news that may not interest them. People interacting with customised content for various reasons may lose the capacity to understand what the platform hides from them or why it promotes specific themes.
WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?
Ultimately, this leads to an existential crisis. As modern society becomes more divided, complex, unstable, and fluid, people seek constancy by looking inside. The Greek proverb “Know Thyself” is heavily highlighted as necessary for successful employment, true interests, meaningful relationships, and general pleasure. In contrast, individuals’ subjective perception of identity is their primary anchor in reality. Ironically, something that is always changing is considered the ultimate truth. As a result, it is not unexpected that many modern people suffer from a persistent identity crisis, which causes enormous distress.
However, identity fragmentation may not be as serious as it appears. The generation reared in this complicated society has been acclimated to fragmentation and change, and they have a higher tolerance for complexity in their lives and identities. In his book Otaku, Japanese cultural analyst Hiroki Azuma states, “The younger generations that grew up within the postmodern world image… do not need a perspective on the entire world that surveys all.” Indeed, many people increasingly applaud internal complexity and inconsistencies, seeing them as signs of originality and maturity.
People using online communities as extensions of their identity mirror Alice in Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece when she asks, “Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like being that person, I’ll come up: if not, I’ll stay down here till I’m somebody else.”
Author: Abrar Rahman
