You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful

Why do you care what Sabrina is doing? Why do you care if Britney Spears posted a selfie, or if the latest boyband is touring?

I know why I man would. I mean, I know why you should and why you shouldn't — how the mind carries things away, how it becomes an obsession before you even realize it.

I remember being in high school, trying to hang out with friends, everyone singing One Direction songs. I never understood it. Or when Justin Bieber became a thing in elementary school and everyone started cutting their hair with the swoop, wearing skater shoes — not to mention the infamous zip-up hoodie in solid colours with the white zipper. So classic.

I'm going to explore this from my own perspective as a woman, but also from a place of genuine confusion — a lack of understanding as to why.

Back then I didn't know the word algorithm. But does it ever apply to everything? It really is all about perspective.

I once got an extra ticket to a One Direction concert from someone I knew. I didn't know the songs or all the members' names, I was in my own world — but I did like Zayne since it was my first time seeing a person with his racial background in a mainstream platform for performance.

My first thought walking in was to count how many girls I could spot wearing a flannel tied around their waist, black or white tank top on top. Very specific, I know. I ended up losing count, funny enough. You can even ask the girl I went with yourself, she openly tells people I’m extremely weird. To which I cannot even deny anymore.

Their most popular song is "You Don't Know You're Beautiful" — and yet I'm seeing the exact same look everywhere I turn.

But who started the trend in the first place, and why does it hit so hard?

Justin Bieber is a cute icon. Girls fell for the look — the baby face, the silky hair, the soft voice. And when their attention shifted there, the boys around them got sidelined. What followed probably wasn't just jealousy, it goes deeper than that. Older, more primal than a label like jealousy can really hold. 

One, even if they wanted to be like Justin Bieber, they would be challenging their sexuality, going against what they’ve already been taught, and naturally feel. Two, they could never be visually appealing enough. 

These are basic examples, just surface level. A starting point.

A more complex one? A new sexual term quietly filters into everyday conversation. You start hearing it, then using it, then thinking in it — and somewhere in that process it's already activated parts of your brain you didn't consciously invite it into.

These are different ways behaviours can change to follow a trend that is literally just a trend or a phase in life. Potentially causing issues down life with future relationships, or friendships. We’re taught to think a certain way and dress a certain way without even knowing it — ultimately becoming less you everyday, the part that makes you, well you. 

The part that makes you, well you know… beautiful, and yeah, I guess that’s what makes you beautiful… Bazinga. 

I put it into this perspective, the social kind, because of how online algorithms are a different story, which kind of connects to the humanity process of how this is working. Now we have influencers. Popularity wars. Accomplishments turned into trophies, held up daily in a competition nobody officially entered but everyone is somehow losing. It's not about what makes sense anymore — it's about who's doing better. Or at least who looks like it.

Influencers started off as real people expressing their thoughts online, acting like their opinion mattered. Then suddenly it did, because the algorithm decided it should. They're front page, high quality, they look a certain way. And just like that, the power shifts into your hands. One like from a high status account gives them a boost. You're in control of their next opportunity without even thinking about it. This creates a whole new pool of people you can interact with that reflects your image, by the way.

But that doesn't mean they have people around them who've actually got their back — not in the ways a person genuinely needs. It just means they have people confirming they look good enough to proceed.

People don't think when they post. And I mean that — I do it too. They don't realize that every edit, every carefully played move, takes a toll. Not just on their own life, but on everyone watching over time.

Every vacation post, every caption about how much you love your life, your partner, your morning routine — it creates a standard the viewer has to quietly measure themselves against. A life that may or may not be real. And even when it is real, it's hollow. Curated down to the feeling it's supposed to produce.

So the platform measures your value. And so do you. Daily, whether you mean to or not.

And the system is unforgiving — slip up once, say the wrong thing, show too much of the actual human underneath, and you can lose in days what took years to build. You're no longer allowed to just be a person. You're a person who has to stay inside the lines, follow the pattern, feed the algorithm that is slowly, quietly, replacing who you actually are.

They say what you post on the internet stays forever. So where are all my posts? I can't keep an Instagram account online for more than 20 minutes.

Probably floating in someone's camera roll, or buried in an email inbox somewhere. But I think it stays somewhere more lasting than that — in someone's mind. It reflects back on your real life, makes people question your moves, your motives. You posted that song and we met in a similar way — did you post it for me? I was just at that store yesterday and you showed up in the same location the next day — are you following me? We broke up but I still check on you every day. Is this healthy?

No. None of it is.

I can't go online without seeing people my age living what looks like a Tomodatchi dream life — everything fed on time, everything thriving. People who collaborate and share so easily while I'm sitting in a dark room wondering what's going to go wrong next. Or if I’ll ever find a place where everything is digital.

What I find most concerning is that you can't escape it, even when you try. "Everybody looks the same." "The world is a simulation." There's more truth in those phrases than people give them credit for.

The only thing you can do is be aware. That awareness alone will cut through a lot of new age habits that are only going to escalate as technology grows — every startup a new corner, every Discord server its own niche, every algorithm a little more refined than the last.

You won't opt out. But you can notice. And noticing, is where it starts. Being honest and treating people better, and not just as an object or celebrity figure. Including people, not tearing them down, be clear, and not make their vision blurry.