Instagram: Performance Vs. Authenticity
- Allison Hinrichs
- May 15
- 5 min read
Updated: 4 days ago
“Phoniness,” but make it aesthetic (The Catcher in the Rye → Instagram)
As an avid reader (currently non-practicing because who has the time 😭), I once found myself in the pretentious literature section and pulled The Catcher in the Rye off the shelf.
It’s a small book about a teenager in a red hunting cap named Holden Caulfield—a guy who can’t stop clocking “phonies,” while simultaneously being trapped in a world where performance isn’t optional.
And if that sounds familiar, it should. I made my first Instagram account at 13, I’ve watched the app transform from “all your friends, in one place” into “a homepage full of influencers, ads, and strangers you didn’t ask for.”
It's like swimming in a polluted ocean: there are plastic bottles and baby diapers everywhere, obscuring your view when all you wanted was to check in on your fish. Half the time you’re lucky to see your best friend’s New Year’s post—assuming you were tagged.
When the water’s that murky, you stop looking for your friends and start noticing the performances. You start spotting the phonies under the perfect face-tuned image. Eventually… it’s all you see.
Because Holden's ultimate villain isn’t just “fake people.”
It’s the Thanos of all phonies: the ones who perform and insist it’s not a performance. And Instagram, bless its little heart, has turned that into a business model.
If you spend five minutes reading how creators talk about Instagram on Reddit (a relatively cutthroat but weirdly honest focus group), you’ll notice the same pattern: people post “messy hair, no filter” content… but it’s still selected, edited, and worded to land as relatable. It’s a polished version of imperfection.
In other words: it’s truth, edited for public consumption. Sincere curation. Not oversharing. Not perfection—just honesty shaped into something the platform can digest.
That’s the platform’s sweet spot:
Relatable (but not alarming)
Vulnerable (but not inconvenient)
Honest (but still legible inside the feed)
What Holden calls “phony.” Instagram calls “content.”
The system: how Instagram got here (and why it feels gross now)
Instagram didn’t become chaotic by accident. It became chaotic because competition forces platforms to maximize:
time spent
recommendation surfaces
monetizable attention
That’s how you end up getting waterboarded by ads and “suggested accounts to follow” or in other words a “social” app that’s doing everything in its power to keep you from seeing the people you actually follow.
People have been measuring this for years. One breakdown found a feed that was 22% ads and 41% suggestions, with only 37% from accounts they actually followed.
And the more I talk with Gen Z, the generation that basically grew up inside Instagram, the more obvious it is: the Gram has lost its glam.
Today it’s the young person’s Facebook. You check in every once in a while to see who had a baby, who got engaged, and what the kid from your high school geometry class is doing now.
But I’m not here just to bash Instagram (even if it occasionally needs a good neck-ringing).
It has something no other app can quite compete with: all your people in one place. But lately it feels like the app is doing everything it can to prevent you from actually seeing them.
Not to mention Instagram has always been about showing off, posting an unedited photo breaks the invisible law of Instagram because it has always rewarded aesthetic authenticity—which is, frankly, a conundrum.
Even Instagram leadership has signaled that the old “polished grid” era is fading. Not because the platform suddenly values purity, but because polish isn’t a strong signal anymore; filters, presets, and AI make “flattering” content cheap and easy to mass-produce.
So “pretty” becomes the entry fee, not the advantage.
Which leaves us with the real question: what do you do when the platform rewards performance, but penalizes actual mess? When “authentic” is just another aesthetic, and sincerity feels like it got demoted to a niche genre?
So instead of opting out entirely, here’s what I’ve found actually helps: clear some of the pollution and practice “sincere curation.” Because cynicism without strategy is just doom-scrolling with better vocabulary.
1. First: fix your experience (Social User Mode)
Stop letting the algorithm babysit you (aka: go find your fish friends on purpose).
If you use Instagram the default way (opening the app and scrolling the home feed) you’re basically handing the keys to whatever the algorithm feels like showing you that day: ads, suggested accounts, random influencers, and maybe your friends if they survive the Hunger Games (aka the algorithm).
Instagram still has a way to make your feed feel more like… a social app. It just doesn’t advertise it.
Here’s what to do instead:
Following feed → shows posts from accounts you actually follow, in order (more like old Instagram)
Favorites → pick up to 50 accounts (friends, family, the handful of creators you genuinely care about) and Instagram will prioritize them
Favorites is the real fix if your complaint is, “I miss my friends.” If you want Instagram to feel more human, start by telling it who your humans are.
2. Now: fix your account (Brand/Creator Mode)
a.) Pretty is entry-level, but proof-of-care is what lasts.
Aesthetic still matters, Instagram is visual, but aesthetic alone isn’t the differentiator anymore. The algorithm increasingly needs evidence that people cared:
saves
shares
DM replies
rewatches / completion (especially on Reels)
So the new question isn’t: “Is this pretty?” It’s: “Did this make someone do something?”
b.) Use the right “container” (aka: post the right stuff in the right place)
Instagram isn’t one big room. It’s a bunch of different rooms and each one has different rules, different audiences, and different levels of risk.
c.) Sincerity isn’t only emotional, it also defines authorship.
Stop building your strategy on reposting everyone else’s content.
Create recognizable formats that are unmistakably yours; your recurring series, your framing, your voice. That’s how people trust you. That’s how they remember you.
d.) Community signals don’t come from “engagement.” They come from conversation design.
If you want saves/DMs/shares, don’t ask for likes. Ask for something people would genuinely respond to:
“Send this to the friend who needs it.”
“Reply with your situation and I’ll point you to the right post.”
“Comment ‘X’ and I’ll DM the template.”
Not manipulative. Useful. That’s the point.
Instagram isn’t rewarding “lifestyle.” It’s rewarding credible signals of care and the most sustainable way to earn those signals is to be sincerely curated: intentionally human and specific.
“If you do something too good, then, after a while, if you don’t watch it, you start showing off. And then you’re not as good any more.” — J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
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