The Visibility Ick

and why we need to get over it

Earlier this week the poet and novelist Ocean Vuong gave an interview to ABCNews where he discussed the impact that cringe culture is having upon his students. Vuong described how the young people he teaches are ‘more and more self-conscious of trying.’ Specifically, he suggested that his students are fearful of being seen to be trying. ‘I don’t want to be perceived as trying and having an effortful attempt at my dreams’ he said … ‘They are absolutely scared of judgement, and so in fact they perform cynicism, because cynicism can be misread, as it often is, as intelligence.’

Vuong’s intervention on the topic of visible effort was timely for me, as I have recently made the transition from complete nobody to minor Tiktok sensation (according to my friend Luke Sherlock). I know! You weren’t expecting me to say that, were you? Admittedly this is a bit of a stretch (I’ve only had one post perform moderately well), but the experience of putting some tangible effort into Tiktok has got me thinking quite deeply about this question of visibility and why we have such a deep-seated aversion to being witnessed by others.

Surveillance Culture: It ain’t that deep

In his interview, Vuong used the term ‘surveillance culture’ as a shorthand for the social media panopticon that many of us now spend our days within. When we post a picture on Instagram, Facebook or Tiktok, we imagine that everyone we have ever met will witness this image, make a judgement on it, and therefore make a judgement about our personhood. Are we saying the right thing? Airing the right opinion? Wearing clothes that strike the right chord? Crucially, do we look like we’ve spent too long composing this shot, or is it just the *right* level of candid?

So let’s start with outward appearances, and simply how awful it is to have other people think that we might have spent some time selecting the right clothes, checking the lighting was ok and taking more than one image before settling on the one we like the best. Speaking as an English person, I would go as far as to suggest that being seen to ‘put effort’ into our self-presentation is a transgressive act. Amongst middle-class women in particular, there is a highly specific level of acceptable effort, which lies somewhere between Alexa Chung and Holly Willoughby. (Willoughby probably overdoes it for the most part). Put any more effort into your appearance than that and it’s over, quite frankly.

But my suspicion is that we are actually judged far less, and seen far less, than these platforms and our imaginations would have us believe. We know for certain that Instragram’s algorithm is no longer consistently serving content to our own followers, whilst Tiktok’s model is much more focused on matching content with audiences than building up a dedicated following. Even with the people we follow personally, when we engage with or watch other people’s content, we’re mostly doing it whilst our subconscious wonders ‘how does this relate to me?’ In fact, that’s the lens which pretty much all of use to navigate our world. So the idea that we are constantly being seen, judged and evaluated by other people doesn’t feel quite right. We are being evaluated by the algorithm, certainly, but it’s important to remember that most people perceive things through their own self-centred lens.

Why bother being visible then?

To return to Vuong’s point, people seem to be creatively paralysed by the fear of other’s perceptions. I remember having this fear when I first started this Substack. I thought about how ridiculous it would seem to my friends and colleagues that I was publicly putting effort into my writing. And asking people to pay for it at that! After I hit publish for the first time, I felt a wave of shame come over me. Not because I thought my writing was bad, but because I was embarrassed to be seen trying. Having done this now for a couple of years, I would say that it gets easier, and largely because you get over yourself. You realise that what you offer will have value and meaning for some - and that’s what matters.

At the moment I am grappling with the question of whether to make myself, my thoughts and my ideas, even more visible. And to put effort into it. By more visible, I mean reaching out beyond the confines of ‘safe environments’ like Substack (I know, it’d be nice if we could just write essays on here all the time) and intentionally put myself into places that perspectives like mine wouldn’t necessarily be found.

I think I have reached a point whereby I actually feel a sort of ethical obligation to be more vocal. Perhaps it’s similar to the feeling Deborah Levy described: ‘To become a WRITER I had to learn to INTERRUPT, to speak up, to speak a little louder, and then LOUDER, and then to just speak in my own voice which is NOT LOUD AT ALL.’

When I look around me, I see my good, wise friends talking to each other within our small WhatsApp groups and intimate instagram pages. There’s a place for all of this, obviously. But I often want to say to my friends: your voices are the ones that are missing from the mainstream. Voices of compassion, care and insight. In an ideal world, we wouldn’t have to use short form vertical video content to advocate for the preservation of democracy and human rights. But I think we need to acknowledge that things are bad, and yes, perhaps things are so bad that we should be thinking seriously about whether or not to be on TikTok. As concerned citizens, we need to engage with the mainstream discourse and offer alternative perspectives.

Revelling in cringe

Substack (the service I use to send you this newsletter) is a platform which promotes longform writing and more nuanced debate. I will obviously continue to view The Murmuration as the primary home for my thinking and writing work. But there is also a literary aloofness associated with Substack which I find unhelpful. As far as the wider world is concerned, Substack is where Writerly Types are having conversations with other Writerly Types about Writing. Lots of my publishing friends and colleagues are on here writing beautiful essays. And thank god for that! But I can’t help but wonder about how to reach people who are outside of these echo-chambers. Not just to talk at them, but to listen and understand their thought processes.

One of the first Tiktoks I posted was about the Green Party. I talked a bit about my reservations concerning Corbyn and Sultana’s new political outfit, and suggested that it might make more sense for them to join the Greens. Well, the people of TikTok had different thoughts! And firmly informed me that the Green Party did *not* speak for the working classes, as far as they were concerned. I was a little surprised by this response, particularly given the efforts of Zack Polanksi has made in his leadership bid to make clear overtures to the hard-left/working class voter, but was ultimately pleased to have heard and understood where they were coming from.

I don’t think there are simple answers to anything I’ve outlined above. Being visible is hard, especially for women. But once you start putting yourself out there you gradually get over it, especially when you realise that it’s not really about you, per say. If we’re doing this stuff properly, then it has to be about all of us. We need to foster conversations and spaces for dialogue, and be the people willing to create those digital environments that stem the tide of fascism.

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Thank you for reading.

If you are new here - welcome! My name is Grace, and I’m a writer and freelance book editor. The Murmuration normally lands in inboxes every other Thursday and includes essays which dig beneath the topsoil of our everyday life. Our community is curious, questioning and isn’t afraid to be seen caring about the big stuff.

Like what you’ve read? Then please consider becoming a paid-supporter of my work. As I mentioned above, I am experimenting and venturing onto other digital spaces, but The Murmuration is at the very heart of my work as a writer and thinker.

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Reccommendation Corner: Earnest-media edition

• I want to say a huge thank you to

  Sophia Smith Galer
  who invited me to be part of her latest vertical video explainer bootcamp. Sophia is a journalist and pioneer of the vertical video explainer, and is a huge advocate for more of us entering into these digital spaces. Her bootcamp has been enormously thought-provoking, and most crucially, fun! Sophia is on TikTok, Instagram and Substack and worth following everywhere.

• I also admire the work that

  Elizabeth Oldfield
  is doing through her podcast The Sacred. Elizabeth has a wonderful mind and is doing the work of putting herself out there despite the cringe-factor. Thank you Elizabeth!

• I’d love to hear your recommendations of people that are contributing positively to your digital landscapes. Which Tiktokkers or newsletters should I be following? And what is it that you like about them? Leave your suggestions in the comments below!