The road to Instagram is paved with good intentions and great lighting. Just a quick scroll through my news feed will uncover a landscape lush with avocado toast, seaside getaways, and bustling city life. For the past year or so, ogling at these snapshots has become a solid pastime of mine, if not something of a ritual. Perhaps, then, it was why I took immediate notice when a double-chinned selfie made its way onto my “Explore” page early last month. The photo, while a stark contrast against the filtered backdrop of today’s trending posts, was enough to warrant further investigation on my part. A swipe of the thumb brought me to the source of the image, a profile whose user I did not recognize. The hundreds of pixelated boxes that comprised this account fit together like that of an old patchwork quilt, rather than a satisfying whole. Odd. And the bio? “Finsta, obviously.”
According to Urban Dictionary, the Internet’s cornucopia of all things slang, “Finstagram,” or “Finsta,” is exactly what it sounds like: a fake Instagram. But unlike Instagram, which is meant to appeal to others, Finsta exists for the sole benefit of the user—manifesting by way of satirical rants and unflattering pictures. Given the questionable content of these posts, Finsta accounts are almost all private. If that weren’t enough, most seasoned Finstagrammers also take the precautionary measure of using semi-anonymous usernames. Doing so enables one’s friends to recognize their account, but inhibits others from stumbling upon it.
When it comes down to Finstagram’s purpose, however, the jury is still out. It’s not everyday we choose to rework the functions of an already existing app in favor of a fad that may or may not take. As is with most digital pioneers, though, Finsta’s growing presence is already serving as fodder for skeptics. Having two Facebook's is unheard of, and maintaining two Twitters seems pointless, so why the secondary Insta?
The question is one I was unable to answer. The idea of finding intimacy online seems futile at best, but then again, it’s possible the Finsta elite are privy to certain truths. Either way, I wanted an explanation, and if my countless SVU marathons taught me anything of use, it was the necessity of an inside job. So I did what I could: created an account, followed a handful of my friends’ Finstas, and uploaded a mildly incriminating photo of myself.
Just like that, I was up and running (and ready to make Olivia Benson proud).
The Good
One of my first impressions as a new convert was regarding online etiquette. The time-honored principles by which Instagrammers faithfully abided had been cast aside with the opening up of an alternate dimension—one where likes didn’t matter, triple posting was encouraged, and long paragraphs of text were actually read. Going against the Insta flow allowed for a lax digital environment I previously never encountered, yet the familiarity with the app itself made it easier for users to put themselves out there. I was intrigued, to say the least.
Several hours into my experiment, I had racked up 20 follower requests—a sizable feat considering most users tend to cull their following around the mid double digit range. It was a decision fueled by a preference for privacy. With a limited audience, my Finsta friends began to display a certain unequivocal camaraderie that I found lacking on my regular account. The same people I interacted with via Instagram were suddenly more open and unyieldingly supportive. What’s more, they were even willing to pursue friendships, albeit digital ones, with those they wouldn’t normally interact with. From relaying stories and offering advice to chronicling a particularly drunken night, these users were on their way to fostering a sense of community.
After a while, even I dropped the level of passivity I’d maintained on my regular account, instead enjoying the boundless conversations taking place among my peers. There was something so refreshing about being able to say anything online that I started to understand what made Finsta so popular. Taking into account Instagram’s tendency to polarize, it was truly unprecedented in how Finsta used the same tools to showcase mutual trust and organic feedback. Should there exist a judgment-free corner of the Internet, this was as close as we were going to get.
The Bad
On that same note, it’s hard to ignore the possibility that there’s more we might not be seeing. Four or so days after my first post, I noticed a shift in some of the content in my feed. Much of it was harmless—text screenshots and random anecdotes—but every so often, there were those who shared more serious experiences. Among the topics covered by the pseudonymous: anxiety and abuse, issues with self-esteem, and relationship difficulties. Each post was accompanied by a selfie of sorts, many of which depicted the tearstained face of said user.
It’s this aspect of Finsta that raises concerns for some, myself included. Should we take to looking at this as an outlet for sharing personal information? Or is it something more altogether—a call for help, perhaps? The answer is one that I can’t quite piece together.
In turn, this opens up a fascinating paradox for users and observers alike. Insta, for one, distorts reality by reediting how users appear, whereas Finsta reflects reality by stripping away the glorification. Consequently, the latter platform actually comes off as more of a “real” Instagram than the former. And still we hold on to our primary accounts because they make us feel important. The result is a phenomenon known as “splintered personalities,” and it makes for a true social media twist.
So why aren’t we being this genuine on a larger scale? Masking our troubles behind a locked account might act as a security blanket, but it isn’t foolproof by any means. The mere fact that users’ information circulates on the Internet means that aptly named “Finsta snitches” are able to get ahold of anything remotely compromising. Regardless of privacy settings, a post of intimate nature can be screenshotted and shared if a follower has malicious intentions. It’s said that following a Finsta establishes trust, but trust can be a fickle thing when one has a screen softening the impact of their online decisions.
The Unfiltered
Nearing the end of the week, I found myself unable to pin down Finstagram’s angle as that of all-good or all-bad. Its relative infancy online meant it’d be a while before most people knew about it, let alone solidify their own opinions on the matter. I kept up with my own Finstagram in the meantime—a decision that carried me over to the following week. Interestingly enough, it wasn’t until I finally retired my account after a whopping 13 days and four posts that I realized what it was I had elected to be a part of.
Finstagram wasn’t so much a passing trend as it was a social movement among millennials. It was in and of itself an exposé, something completely self-propelled. Of course, with the platform’s purpose not explicitly clear, people have taken to weaving their own Finsta paths. Chances are an influx in popularity will nonetheless provide new users a base on which to build their accounts.
Or maybe I’m reading too much into this. Maybe Finstagram is simply a new-age method of self-preservation, a virtual memento of youthful escapades. Its permanence and accessibility as a smartphone makes documentation easy, if not “natural” in the 21st century meaning of the word. In my case, it came down to a single hypothetical: if Instagram defines who we are, does Finsta’s inception bring us closer to publicly accepting ourselves? Might we be able to recreate in person the support system we’ve garnered online? Depending on which way everything comes together, I might have to reconsider joining the Finstagrammers once again.
For now, though, no one should be above having an account. It’s not for everyone, no, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t showcase incredible potential. Social media as a whole is incredible in that it’s constantly evolving with the times, and Finsta just happens to be the latest example of this. And while some are comfortable using it to leak a secret or hold a venting session, others simply find it perfect for a good laugh. If nothing else, the visual honesty is definitely something worth appreciating on all fronts.
To the revolution.
