Influencers Aren't the Real Problem: Re-evaluating the Blame

Despite my personal reservations about influencer culture—its promotion of overconsumption, unrealistic beauty standards, undisclosed advertising, ostentatious wealth, manufactured intimacy, and the blurring lines between personal life and sales pitches—I acknowledge that the recent surge of negative discourse surrounding it feels distinct. It's no longer just a casual online pastime to critique influencers; it's increasingly becoming a socially accepted stance. This sentiment is evident in examples like Nantucket's "No influencers" signs, the backlash against social media-driven crowds in the Dolomites, and even podcasters (who are themselves influencers) declaring that influencers are ruining everything.

Naturally, influencers have responded. One particular viewpoint—that "hating influencers has become a socially acceptable way to hate women"—has ignited a widespread debate, with many of my industry peers voicing their agreement and support.

While my initial reaction was one of strong agreement, I soon felt conflicted.

Let's be clear: influencers are not an oppressed or marginalized group. They come from diverse racial, age, socioeconomic, educational, gender, and occupational backgrounds. However, the stereotypical image of an influencer in our collective consciousness is not a man discussing watches on YouTube or hosting a podcast from his studio. It's typically a young, attractive woman, often involved in fashion or beauty, who presents herself directly to the camera, aiming to sell something. The traits we find so objectionable in her—vanity, materialism, and an apparent conviction of deserving attention—are not new.

These concepts predate Instagram and are not exclusive to women. The "attention economy" has roots in the 1970s, and the adage "there's no such thing as bad publicity" dates back to the 19th century. The key difference today is that social media has made it remarkably simple for almost anyone to transform their own life into a business. Consequently, the influencer landscape is now incredibly diverse, featuring middle-aged mothers, outdoor enthusiasts, children, farmers, and professionals across virtually every industry and niche.

What is also relatively novel is how these platforms have empowered women to monetize the very aspects of life they have historically been criticized for or compelled to perform—clothing, beauty, home decor, cooking, relationships, and motherhood. They can now build lucrative businesses without needing institutional validation. While this doesn't automatically render these ventures virtuous, it does complicate our outright condemnation of women who have successfully profited from them.

If our objection were solely to wealth, consumerism, vanity, or profiting from attention, our disdain would be more broadly distributed. Consider George Clooney's long-standing endorsement of Nespresso or David Beckham's numerous World Cup advertisements. Joe Rogan and I have both promoted the same powdered electrolyte product. Celebrity has always been intertwined with commerce, and famous individuals have consistently leveraged their public profile for financial gain. Yet, we rarely interpret a male actor, athlete, or podcaster's willingness to endorse products as a sign of their overall life being frivolous. This raises the question: why do women visibly profiting from this economy elicit more anger than the underlying economic conditions that make their success seem objectionable in the first place?

The influencing industry generates substantial income. It would be dishonest to deny that the growing animosity towards influencers is partly fueled by their significant earnings, especially at a time when life is becoming increasingly precarious for many. As traditional markers of stability become more elusive, observing someone earn in a single sponsored post what others make in a month or even a year can feel egregious. While it's challenging to direct anger towards the complex economic and political forces driving unaffordability, stagnant wages, and wealth concentration, a woman showcasing an extravagant product haul in a video becomes an easy target.