A few days ago, trying to find some answers about the continued failures of my life, I did a session with an astrologer who read my natal chart—“a picture of the sky when you were born.” I loved it because these sessions usually just confirm things I know or want to be told: “You shine bright and bring light to people with your warmth.” “You are a creator.” “Who took your self-worth?”
After asking this question, which I had never heard before and honestly, caught me off-guard, she said I should do “shadow work” to figure out aspects of myself that I have suppressed or not acknowledged. So, I have been doing that. I found a questionnaire with many prompts, such as: “Who do you envy, and why?” “What are your personal core values?” and “What emotions typically bring out the worst in you, and why do you think this happens?”
That last question was great because I love to get to the bottom of the why of the things I love—Why am I obsessed with this song? Why do I love this painter? And many other “whys?” But I never do the even harder job of investigating the things I don’t like.
Thinking about this, I was immediately humbled. For example, one of the things I most dislike in modern life is the concept of “influencers.” I apologize in advance to all influencers, I really do—and this essay is part of my apology—but once I called them “The lowest life forms at the bottom of the barrel of cultural consciousness” or something terribly cruel and judgmental like that. It’s horrible because I would never call or even dare to think about another human being this way unless they are the representation of true evil: murderous dictators, criminal autocrats, genocidal states, etc.
It’s not something I’m proud of: My disdain borders on repulsion, physical and mental. When I hear my mom describe some of the influencers that her algorithm brings to her Instagram feed, I feel myself growing more and more annoyed. “Mom, why do you watch that? Block, block, you need to curate your algorithm!” She tells me about this very respected fitness influencer and how she’s become so successful that when she documents other parts of her life not related to fitness, it’s all about extreme luxury—first-class flights to Scotland, thousands-of-dollars-apartment-renovations, lavish kids parties. Just typing this I feel drained.
It’s like my brain is impermeable to these images: Reject, reject, reject, I don’t want to know, it’s boring, it’s… “culturally worthless,” “it’s tacky,” “it’s incomprehensible to me how anybody on earth can be interested in this,” “it’s crass,” “it’s so… ugly.”
But, truly, who is the person being ugly here? What is this sense of superiority? Where is this coming from? What did influencers ever do to me? Isn’t this some conveniently packaged internalized misogyny?
It’s scary to look inside and confront our own prejudices. One of the few qualities of my personality that I’m thankful for is my ability to block out or ignore anything that doesn’t interest me. It’s as if those things were invisible, I don’t even acknowledge their existence. The problem is when somebody brings them to my attention and my mind becomes so offended that I have to give two minutes of attention to this thing I find so distasteful.
But influencers are a manifestation of the democratization of media, the evolution of the internet, and late-stage capitalism. And this descent into what I feel is equivalent to internet hell, is accelerating beyond human comprehension with things like AI influencers, and the now nearly infinite proliferation of content leading to “brain rot,” defined by the Oxford Dictionary as “the supposed deterioration of a person’s mental or intellectual state, especially viewed as the result of overconsumption of material (now particularly online content) considered to be trivial or unchallenging.”
Maybe this is what I find so repulsive. I have vowed to never be an old man yelling at clouds, but I’ve become one (even if just inside my head) when it comes to influencers and also many people’s inability to protect themselves against the worst online temptations, such as using and interacting with AI platforms or AI image generators. It’s the crass monetization of every ounce of the online experience, which is nothing new, of course, so I should be completely used to it. I think I’m angry and scared of the passivity with which many people seem to accept and contribute to this descent into hell, as if it’s inevitable. But why do I feel I should control what anybody does on the Internet with their time and money? That’s not my problem; who am I to judge?
This is what I need to investigate. Maybe this obliviousness, search for quick pleasures and solutions, and focus on material success feels selfish to me: Ignorance and brain rot have a real effect on the world, on the things people invest money in and support with their time and attention.
But for every old man complaint I have, I find a counterargument. My son, who is almost 16, is so smart. He is firmly anti AI, highly internet literate, thus aware of its most gross and insidious traps, and like most kids his age, starting to reject the cheapening of cultural products as merely “content” by seeking and embracing physical media. Influencers have also found a way to benefit from a system designed to exploit us all and extract every second of our attention and money for their profit.
I need to make peace with these realities, not take them personally, and not judge my mom and other people for following these influencers. If this repulsion towards what influencers represent is part of my shadows, it must be saying something I should listen to.
I think it confirms a feeling I’ve had since I was a little girl: That I don’t understand the world, that many things considered normal or a given are completely foreign to my instincts, that a life away from society is easier for me because I don’t have to deal with the contradictions of the human condition or even be in danger of betraying my own beliefs. It’s a life of moral superiority and perfection that’s unattainable, unimaginable, and deeply isolating. Really, a kind of very sad life.
The Things We Love 
With influencers, there’s a fine line between those seeking to help others and those trying to gain clout/followers. I accept that for the former smartly take advantage of the platform for a public good. See “We do Not Care” on TikTok. But most are not serving humanity.
But I see your larger point: the need to question our own repulsions, if only to understand the triumph of repulsion in America.