The Joy of Hiding Likes

Three Qs Answered / Three Qs Asked

The other day a friend who runs a digital news platform told me he has a mental block every time he looks at my Instagram feed due to my like-hiding tendencies.

Naturally, I snipped back that he was looking at Instagram all wrong if he couldn’t enjoy someone’s account without discerning how many likes each post had garnered. Hopefully, I added, this is not the basis on which he decides which news stories to share. He assured me it was not and grumbled off to talk to someone less weird.

But my pal is not the only person to innocently ask why I’ve opted-out of sharing my like count for every post on my feed in the past year or so. Therefore, in the interest both of diarising the mundane and creating an interactive experience (two fundamental pillars of Mon Review), I’m going to answer three largely unimportant but potentially curiosity-piquing questions that have been posed to me recently. By both friends and friendly DM-sliders. Then I’ll ask you some back.

1. So, why do you hide the likes?

Watch out, pretentious answer incoming. But it’s the truth. Hiding likes is my little act of rebellion against an algorithm I fundamentally disagree with, which essentially encourages the vulgarisation of creativity and polarisation of information sharing.

Yes *actually* I do still occasionally get a solid amount of likes on shoutier posts thank you very much. Mainly if a) I am wearing something “buzz-worthy”, or b) trying out a new trendy styling (or hair) idea, or c) on the rarer occasions I say something punchy, rousing some sort of societal debate (or just name-calling).

The rest of my posts get way less attention. You know what? I’m fine with that. It turns out there’s a lot of fun to be had being boring.

But the thing is, since the algorithm changed a few years back, many accounts I used to love now exclusively post the kind of clickbait content I’ve described above. You know, the kinds of accounts that used to explore things a little more deeply or share inspiration that would appeal deeply to some of their followers but not all of it…and that was ok. In other words, many people have stopped posting stuff that won’t get likes. They’ve narrowed their offerings for fear of not being seen.

With the algorithm change I think that Meta has stifled Instagram’s greatest talent —being the place to share creativity and reflect on it— for fear of losing out to TikTok, Twitter etc. Insta, in my humble opinion, is trying to be everything to everyone at once by enforcing an algorithm that only promotes content which directly competes with other platforms. Either by being polarising or just plain in-your-face or both. And this bothers me.

I’m not on my high horse. Don’t worry I am actually aware that I am a fashion influencer lol. I will share a Reel if the content calls for it but I’m not going to make one out of nothing just so the algorithm will reward me. And I won’t post a sexy photo for that sole reason either, sorry Zuck. Sexy photos gotta come from the soul, man.

So yeah, like-hiding is my tiny act of protest. And it feels great. Because sure, social media is inherently navel-gazing and I’m as guilty of the occasional show-off post as anyone but equally, I sometimes want to post an obscure old photo of, say, Harry Belafonte, a towering figure, both of Calypso music and the Civil Rights movement, who (unfortunately) won’t mean much to anyone younger than my age today. But his life and music meant a lot to me and to my family. Plus I think he should be remembered. And so, 300 measly likes later, I have zero regrets. Jamaican farewell to caring.

BUT the first rule of hiding likes, as my fellow like-hiders will know, is you cannot only hide the likes on these kinds of posts and leave the basic, like-magnets out in the open, likes exposed for all to see. You must hide all of them to achieve true freedom.

2. Do you feel different with short hair?

Unexpected liberation is the unexpected theme of the day!

Let me preface my answer with thank you for bothering to wonder. The question, as one DMer made clear, is not if I feel different aesthetically speaking —that’s obvious, but do I feel different different. Like in my soul. And the answer is honestly yes.

I wore my hair very long for the better part of twenty years but in September came to a somewhat stunning realisation that there was this gaping discrepancy between the way I presented with the long princess locks and the person that I am today. You know, deep down. Basically, as I put it right before getting the haircut to my Paris girl-gang in our WhatsApp group (provoking a certain amount of mockery but ultimate agreement): I looked like a blushing, hyper-feminine Repunzel but felt like a bad b*tch. Or at least a bit of a tomboy with some serious toddler-induced limitations on my allotted hair-care time. And now, with the bob, I feel free. I feel like, well, me.

3. Why aren’t you currently putting out Fanfare Podcast eps and when is it coming back for a new season??

The answer here is straightforward. And not.

A) When Emma is done launching her brilliant first novel The Life Cycle of The Common Octopus out in early Jan. Available for preorder here (!!)

B) But maybe a little sooner if a publication or platform wants to take on the backend and booking work, of which there is a great deal. We are short for time but passionately love it and one another. I’m thrilled to hear some of you dig it too and very much hope to share many more imaginary dinner parties with you in the future. In the meantime, if you’re interested, you can enjoy the back catalogue here.

Now, excuse the largely self-serving nature of much of today’s newsletter but as I mentioned, I hope you will do me the satisfaction of helping me answer the following three questions I’ve been pondering lately. I’ll be ready and waiting for you in the comments section…

Questions for the Universe (That Means You)

1. Do we really think Nobody Wants This is perfect television??

First let me acknowledge what many people have already brought up—the portrayal of Jewish women in this series. I am not Jewish myself but just speaking as, you know, a human, I was slightly taken aback by the caricatural nature of these female characters.

I also happen to know a lot of shiksas in both Toronto and London who have married Jewish men and none of them were met with anything like the sorcery and scheming depicted. I’m not going to go any deeper into this point. It’s been made already and is not technically mine to make. I’m just going to leave this here: imagine if women of another minority group were portrayed with such ridicule. On Netflix no less!

Anyway. The storyline is a great idea for a rom-com on the whole, so kudos to Erin Foster for that.

Let’s move along to my other main gripe. While I thought there was some hilarious dialogue in this series (particularly involving both main characters’ siblings), I couldn’t understand why the writing suddenly fell off a cliff every time the couple were alone together. It went from zippy, snippy brilliance to cheesier than a basement fondue restaurant the moment any third party left the screen. We get it. They like each other.

Last problem is a bit of a side note but I feel Adam Brody and Kristen Bell in their current iterations are an absolute metaphor for the divergent beauty standards of men and women in their late thirties/early forties today. Actually, both actors happen to be exactly 44.

Brody’s beautiful face is full of movement, imperfections and, you know, life; Bell’s beautiful face is full of, err.. well, you know. You can read the expression on Brody’s face instantly; you have to wait for Bell to deliver her lines to glean what she’s thinking. Of course, taste in injections and how much of them to get to get is very subjective and I am certainly not bashing anyone’s choice to have a touch-up. But strictly from an acting perspective, the lack of movement may not be fortuitous in terms of transmitting emotion. Luckily, Bell is a great actor and her powerful voice (of Frozen fame!) largely surmounts this.

Before writing this I discussed the matter with one female friend who was like “uh yeah, women want to look younger. Get over it!” and then I spoke to another who was like “uh yeah, I found this both distracting and the injustice of it triggering as a woman in her late thirties.”

Pfff, I dunno. What do you think?

2. Is anyone else losing-sleep-level horrified by the P. Diddy allegations? Especially the most recent story involving celebrity A and celebrity B?

   I dare not ask who you think A and B are but I will ask whether idols of millennial youth turning out to be so utterly disgusting has shaken you as much as it has me. And how on earth it took over twenty years for all this to come out.

3. Last one, where do you get your news?

Like hard news. Like world affairs news. Info, not opinion. Not trying to be a judgey Karen here, I am genuinely curious as it’s something I’ve been wondering a lot about, particularly with regards to millennials who like to read.

I was in London the other day and got my hands on one of my favourite news review magazines OAT (of all time) —The Week— which brought me back to a simpler time for info ingestion. A truly pleasurable and informative experience. I’m not making OAT happen am I.

Plus, I know I am in a space here where not everyone in thinks scrolling Saint Hoax’s insta feed counts as informing oneself. So hit me with it: do you buy any print press? No, not even on Sundays? Do you have digital newspaper subscriptions? Do you have a podcast you rely on? A radio show? I gots ta know. You go first, I’ll share mine after.

Thank you!

OK, Weekly Recs:

Listen

I enjoyed this episode of The Dishcast with Substack’s most stunning new recruit, Tina Brown (major!!) Especially the part where she explains why British are better interviewers than Americans. And the bit about Jeremy Corbin (“who!?”)

Need

IS Clinical is my new skincare routine . It’s spenny but someone actually commented that my skin looked better today without me complaining. Big up to to superstar facialist Cynthia Rivas for recognising what I needed (along with some pretty intense extractions). Beauty is pain!! (As they used to say before feminism was invented.) I tend to disagree but extractions work apparently (annoyingly).

Read

Other than Emma Knight’s Octopus!! Which, I repeat, is a must.

I loved this piece in the New Yorker about Kamala Harris’s sorority sisters.

And, naturally, this unrelated cartoon embedded halfway through it.

Nabbed shamelessly from the New Yorker. He’ll find Emma Knight on that sofa from Jan 7th!