“In 2008, there were approximately 100 million social media users globally. By 2023 that number had risen to over 4.95 billion, marking a shift not just in numbers, but in how we use these platforms”
Early Days of Connection
I first joined social media not even knowing it was social media. For me, it was just YouTube and Vine—slime-making videos, DIY projects, the “100 layers” challenges, and classic memes like 9 + 10 equals 21 and “Why you always lying?” took over the internet. At age 8, I wasn’t able to process or fully appreciate it, but as I watch content in 2024, I realise that’s what I miss most—the fun, the spontaneity, and, more importantly, the connection. Social media felt simpler then, and those early platforms laid the foundation for what was to come.
YouTube and Vine were pioneers in the visual content lane and so, naturally, they were associated with organic, unpolished content… even if some creators used high-end cameras and setups. But for most of us, it wasn’t about curating—it was about having fun. I wasn’t curating anything because I was barely 10. No one around me was either (now I could list curators that rival a genealogy). We were just enjoying the content, laughing at viral memes, and trying out silly challenges. There was no pressure to fit a narrative or present a brand.
The Rise of Visual Platforms
By the time I entered a broader social media world, it wasn’t just about written content like Facebook and MySpace anymore. There had been a shift. The world was moving towards visual expression on platforms like Instagram and Tumblr. Forget the idea that these platforms were completely different in purpose—at their core, it was no longer about words. It was about images. The game had changed. Social media had become about how things looked rather than the raw, spontaneous connection that earlier platforms celebrated.
Instagram was the game-changer. It wasn’t just about sharing moments anymore—it was about creating a visual story. Suddenly, everything was curated: filters, angles, and a cohesive feed theme became essential. Sepia-toned photos of sunsets and high-contrast selfies took over the platform. It wasn’t just about expressing a feeling anymore; it became about creating a mood.
A Shift to Performance
I’d like to say that my Instagram captured my real life—but I’d be lying if I said a carousel of sunflowers depicted the growing pains I experienced in lockdown. It’s hard to claim that 15 seconds out of 24 hours, layered with the ‘Rio de Janeiro’ filter, was truly real. It wasn’t about authenticity anymore; it was about constructing an ideal version of reality. Every post had to fit a theme, every image had to be curated to match the rest of your grid. The casual, unfiltered fun of social media was slipping away, and Instagram’s rise marked a significant shift: from self-expression to performance.
When I realised I was performing, I created a private spam account, @cabbageisnice (now @zahstarrr), where I could post more freely—without worrying about aesthetics or algorithms. It was an escape from the performance-based pressure of Instagram, a place where I could exist as my chaotic teenage self while Instagram’s aesthetic rapidly evolved into something perfectly curated, visually appealing, and highly polished.
The Algorithm’s Influence
As Instagram grew, I began to notice how it rewarded performance over reality. TikTok quickly followed suit, creating a space where anyone could go viral overnight, making it seem like a level playing field. But from what I’ve seen, the reality is different. The more you understand how the algorithm works—knowing which trends to follow, when to post, and what kind of content gets pushed—the easier it is to succeed. It’s not just about sharing anymore; it’s about playing the game.
On one hand, this shift has been incredible. Being able to make a living off social media has opened up a whole new world, with people building careers through content creation. But I can’t ignore the fact that it’s also created a divide. Social media might have started as a space for everyone, but now, not everyone’s on the same footing. The algorithm rewards those who can curate their lives into picture-perfect grids and seamless videos, and not everyone has the time, resources, or know-how to keep up.
Scrolling through Instagram and TikTok, I’ve seen how these platforms, once spaces for fun, quick, and quirky posts, have become dominated by visibility and monetisation. It’s not just about connection anymore—it’s about who can sell a lifestyle, a product, or a brand. While that isn’t necessarily bad, it’s changed the nature of social media, reinforcing a new kind of digital classism.
Conclusion
In 2008, social media was still in its infancy, with around 100 million users globally. Platforms like Facebook, MySpace, YouTube, and later Vine were primarily spaces for connection and fun. Users weren’t chasing likes or engagement; they were sharing their lives authentically, without the pressure of performance or curation.
But by 2023, that number had grown to over 4.95 billion users, and platforms like Instagram and TikTok were dominating the social media space. With this massive growth came a fundamental shift: social media was no longer just about connection—it became a space dominated by aesthetics, curation, and performance. The rise of influencers, algorithms, and commercialisation transformed the way we use social media, creating new opportunities but also new divides.
We’ll dive deeper into this idea later in the series—how aesthetics and access create barriers to entry, and how the lines between creators and consumers have become more rigid. But for now, the main takeaway is this: the commercial side of social media has opened up opportunities, but it’s also created a stark divide. The algorithms powering TikTok and Instagram aren’t just showing us what we like—they’re deciding who succeeds and who’s left behind. In the next part of this series, I’ll delve into how social media aesthetics have evolved and the impact they have on how we present ourselves online.
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