It wasn’t always like this. Social media began as a place for unpolished self-expression — the grainy photos, the rants, the mundane joy of sharing nothing in particular. But as platforms evolved, so did the incentive structures. What was once a digital diary became a billboard. Followers became metrics. Posts became product placements. Today, being “relatable” is a marketing strategy. Vulnerability sells. And every aspect of a creator’s life — from morning routines to mental health — is potential content.

This shift has birthed a new kind of ethical tension. Influencer-follower dynamics often feel intimate. The audience sees the same face daily, hears candid stories, is thanked, comforted, encouraged. These are parasocial relationships — one-sided connections that mimic friendship. But unlike traditional celebrities, influencers actively maintain the illusion of reciprocity. They reply to DMs. They share “honest moments”. They call followers their “online family”. And then they ask them to buy things.

At the heart of this culture is a subtle emotional transaction: “I let you into my life — now support me.” It’s not inherently sinister. Many creators are sincere, hardworking, and dependent on their platforms for income. But the structure is morally fraught. A skincare routine doubles as an advert. A tearful confession precedes a discount code. What happens to trust when every post might be sponsored? What happens to mental health when one’s entire persona is a product?

And the burden isn't only on the influencer. Followers, too, are caught in a web of expectation and performance. They are expected to “engage”, to support “hustle culture”, to cheerlead as their favourite creators rise — even if what they’re rising into is a form of digital precarity, one algorithm tweak away from collapse.

What’s emerging now is a kind of backlash. Exhaustion with the endless brand tie-ins. A weariness of curated authenticity. Some users are unfollowing en masse, or seeking content that isn’t monetised at all. There’s a quiet hunger for sincerity — not the performative kind, but the kind that doesn’t sell anything.

Influencer culture is not going away. But perhaps what it needs is a recalibration — one that acknowledges the humanity on both sides of the screen. Clearer boundaries. Honest disclosures. And, most importantly, the recognition that not every moment must be monetised to matter.