My whole life I’ve been accused of vanity. And I guess it’s true. I like to look at myself. Anytime I pass a mirror, or a darkened window, or a polished stone surface, or a fragment of metal, or a caricature artist, I can’t help but stop and take a quick peek. “Is my hair okay?” I say while staring at my own biceps in the reflection of a stranger’s pair of sunglasses.
To quote Justin Bieber:
“…if you like the way you look that much, oh baby, you should go and love yourself”.
Our assumption is that vain people are obsessed with themselves, that they only really care about themselves, and perhaps are only capable of loving themselves. “Get over yourself”, we say, “try thinking about someone else for a change”. But is that really what vanity is all about? While staring at myself in the mirror recently, I had a realization that surprised me.
The prestigious dictionary that pops up automatically when you Google words defines “Vanity” in two ways. The first is, “excessive pride in or admiration of one’s own appearance or achievements.” This is the definition we normally associate with people who like to look at themselves. But there’s a second definition, “the quality of being worthless or futile.” I think this definition actually gets closer to the truth.
I realized that I don’t stare at myself because I’m obsessed with me. I do it because I am obsessed with you! I am obsessed with what each and every one of you thinks of me. I secretly just want you all to like me, and as a result, I am constantly looking at myself to see what it is exactly that you are seeing. Are you seeing someone likeable? Are you seeing someone cute? Are you seeing someone with ample chest hair? Are you seeing someone confident? Someone friendly? Someone fun?
It’s the same impulse that has me rereading an email three times after I’ve already sent it. It’s the reason I scroll through my own Instagram feed wondering what a handsome new follower is going to think. I imagine I’m someone else and I look at myself through their eyes and ask, “Do they like me?”
So the next time you dismiss someone as “vain” or self-absorbed, consider that they may just be looking at themselves in search of something that they hope you are seeing. Or perhaps they are desperately searching for something that they fear may not actually be there at all. Are you looking at me and seeing a straight man? Are you looking at me and seeing a good mom? Are you looking at me and seeing someone who is worthy of love at all? Are you even looking at me?
Getting Discomfortable with Selfies
This perspective shift completely changed how I view our culture of self(ie)-obsession. I must admit that in the not so distant past when I was on Instagram, I used to specifically not like people’s selfies because I didn’t want to encourage “superficial” behavior. First of all, what a dick. And second of all, from my new perspective, selfies are not superficial at all. What could be more substantial, more significant than sending a photo of just yourself out into the world, and in so doing, basically saying, “Do you see me? Do I register to you? Do you like what you see? If so, please let me know, by tapping on the ‘like’ button.” These are selfies in need of attention, selfies in need of validation.
But perhaps the most notorious of all are selfies in need of superiority. This is the selfie on a yacht, the selfie with a celebrity, the selfie in space (coming soon). It’s obnoxious, to be sure, but it comes from the very same impulse. It asks, “Do you see someone who is valuable? Do you see someone who is successful? Do you see someone who is so special no one could possibly ignore or reject them?” These are not superficial — they cut to the very core of what we all sometimes fear we may be lacking: value, worth, specialness, lovability.
On the other hand, when I post a photo of, say, a cool painting that I saw in a museum — that is superficial. That’s like me asking, “Do you see someone who is… mildly cultured?” Why do I need to prove that I’m cultured? It’s like bragging, “Look how high up Maslow’s pyramid my needs are!”
Selfies are so much more primal. I think at their core, selfies are just a bid for connection. And in a world of increasing digital isolation, we all need as much connection as we can get. So I want you to pull out your phone. Right now. Pull out your phone. Log onto Instagram and seek out the most obnoxious, duck faced, champagne sipping, cleavage or pec heavy vacation sunset boat selfie you can find, and like it! And post a comment that says, “I see you.”
