Archetypes

Thoughts on the illusion of wholeness

I often find myself fantasizing about what my life would look like if I traded my messy, dissenting aesthetic for a uniform one inspired by social media. I could become the vintage mom. The one who homeschools her kids, cooks out of cast iron, and buys armoires from the early 1900s. I could also be the marathon runner. The girl who keeps up with all the trends, signs up for the fancy gym membership, and shops at Whole Foods. Or even the sailor, who travels the world, lives in a bikini, is a minimalist, and is passionate about longevity.  Their lives look streamlined and complete, projecting an illusion of wholeness. I imagine this is what makes “influencers” so influential, their marketability lies in their dedication to an archetype.

In sociologist Joseph E. Davis’s article, “The Commodification of the Self,” he describes how we have come to see ourselves as marketable brands, thus reducing our identity to self-promotion. He says, “Self-understanding is mediated by the consumption of goods and images. In this sense, self-definition depends on the appropriation of the traits of commodities.” I “look for myself” in objects all the time, carefully crafting my style to determine something that ultimately cannot be defined by products. I don’t think I’m alone in the impulse to “redefine” myself by leaning into a new, singular, aesthetic.

The impulse is triggered anytime I enter a new stage of life or find interest in a new hobby; becoming a mom, moving across the country, picking up cold-plunging. The excitement of unfamiliar territory drives my need to define myself within the boundaries of my new identifier. What kind of mom do I want to be? How do I want to dress in this new climate? What does my hobby say about me? There are hundreds of social media accounts dedicated to providing me with inspirational images to fuel the identity I’m crafting. It doesn’t take long for daily consumption of images to turn into purchasing behavior, buying whatever products accompany the images. What’s worse, the algorithms quickly learn what archetypal interests I’m pursuing so it can start serving me targeted ads. What started as an innocuous interest quickly turned into a marketing funnel, converting me into a consumer.  

Davis describes marketing’s evolution from product-selling to lifestyle-selling, investing in images that “inspire passion” and “impel people to buy.” He says, “The new marketing scripts incorporate the language of self-determination and transformation, and build on the knowledge that being true to our unique inner selves is a powerful moral idea. Indeed, authenticity has been so thoroughly appropriated and packaged in the metaphorical stories of the mass marketers that we barely notice anymore.” Social media, and the rise of influencer culture, have exasperated our need to express ourselves while capitalizing on it. Its algorithms categorize us to serve us images that will inspire us and make us feel seen. It feels impossible to disengage from content that is so customized for our chosen archetypes, and even harder to resist the impulse to purchase the products that accompany each image. When faced with the illusion of wholeness, how can we not see it as the answer to our own?

As I’ve continued to notice this tendency in myself, I’ve realized that what I’m really looking for is a sense of belonging. Much like Davis describes, we have deviated from finding a deeper sense of self through our community and institutions and have turned to more superficial means of identity that are ultimately devoid of real socialization. Owning the same “gear” won’t make me belong to the group of people who wear it. At best, it’s a shallow connection.

I’ve begun to catch myself in the habit of seeking identity in products and it’s challenged the delusion that whatever product I’m coveting will bring me closer to myself and a perfectly aesthetic life. I’ve become frustrated with myself for wanting things I don’t need, instead longing for a deeper sense of identity and communion with the groups I belong to. Fitting an archetype ultimately won’t bring me closer, in a real way, to others who identify with it, and it certainly won’t bring me closer to myself. I am still drawn to romanticizing the archetypal lives displayed on social media, finding pieces of my own superficial identity in these women. I do own cast iron and make sourdough bread, I love to coordinate my running outfits and shop at Whole Foods. But, at the end of the day, none of these things say anything about who I am.  

True human complexity cannot be marketed to. Resisting the impulse to fit into an archetypal box has challenged me to seek my identifiers elsewhere, largely within my roles as a friend, mother, wife, and artist. It has also pushed me to more strictly evaluate my needs when it comes to making purchases. Instead of seeing every purchase through the lens of strengthening my identity, I try to see it for what it is, a product purchased to serve a specific purpose.

Thanks for reading xx