Weaving the Web of Retro

I recently started to notice a rise in TikToks where creators are speaking up about community – precisely, the lack of it. It struck me – it’s not the style that we, mainly Gen Z, essentially crave; it’s the community. The idea that hyper-individualism and the prioritisation of productivity over lived experience are taking society on a path toward an isolated future has taken hold among many young people, whether they express these thoughts online or in their real-life circles. It’s not just one individual bubble of thought; the digital space now holds a thread that connects countless such bubbles around the world. It piqued my interest in researching alternative ways younger generations are forging new paths in community – what can escape the digital, and what cannot?

One of the main tools used for non-verbal communication online is digital mimicry, or to simplify, trends – such as style, makeup, using specific hashtags and -core prefixes which serve as stylistic signifiers. This not only helps with self-expression but also community building, when done right.

I say “done right” because self-curation through aesthetics is not the long-term answer, as anything curated could, and often does in the digital space, be rooted in performativity and the desire for external validation. Self-curating is not a problem in itself when you take it as a critical development of your own being, one that should evolve from online influences toward self-made decisions. Mediated authenticity over the years has taught users to always express the self through the current frame of authenticity, which is shaped by algorithmic trends, even if that requires adjusting the self.

Yet the frames and mediations seem to be crumbling as users keep finding ways to evade the algorithms. Some users even speculate that contemporary online spaces, advertised as “community nourishing”, at their core, are tools for data collection. Distrust of anything digital is slowly approaching as more and more people get to know and believe the dead internet theory , but in my eyes, there is a good side to this phenomenon. Nowadays, more and more young people are once again coming to value the analogue connections vs. digital ones. I’m not talking about being a kid and going out to play outside – I’m speaking of Gen Z, who grew up during the massive changes of the digital world, who experienced enriching times as children playing online, and now are rebuilding their outside communities and expressing their yearning for a retro age of the internet, the space where everyone could feel a part of something.

This retro age is creeping up as people are trying to ditch platforms serviced by Almighty Google and prioritising alternative spaces and websites. Users who are well-versed in aesthetics are noting that fashion trends such as monotonous beige apparel and interiors and clean-girl aesthetic are new mixtures of an anti-community concoction, promoting stylistic tones of boredom (and needless to say, it emphasises the Eurocentric standard of beauty that is the easiest to digest: white, clean, tame, and glossed over). As these trends rose, so did the pushback for creativity, self-expression – even if it was through new trends (such as-core). Of course, this point is seen through a dichotomy of bland/colourful, boring/interesting, but if there is a link between clean-girl aesthetics and Eurocentric beauty standards, we can assume that it also could be working as a tool for minimising algorithmic exposure to creative, expressive, alternative and “unclean” communities. What helps battle these algorithms is not only an increase in various users explicitly stating their concern over them, but a continuous push online to educate themselves on questions, such as “what are the goals of the people managing these algorithms?”.

After the COVID-19 pandemic and isolation that affected the entire world, there was a shift in mindset regarding online communities – at some point during lockdowns, many felt that no matter how authentic, digital communication and friendships only last for so long. It prompted me to question the quality of connection – are our bodies still able to interpret connections online as actual community building? Do we feed the impulse for community our ancestors passed onto us with digitality, or do our bodies reject it as indigestible, thus pushing us to the brink of a break, while still motivating us to seek out real-life connection? Now that a lot of people are dealing with emotional post-isolation consequences, such as anxiety in real-life spaces, is there something to make it all easier?

One such real-life communal activity that could be seen as having “escaped” the internet recently is “Performative Masc Lesbian Contest” in Toronto this September, or “Timothée Chalamet Look-alike Contest” in New York last year. Neither are connected to any sort of specific community in real-life, but the online obsession with pop-culture garnered popularity for these sorts of contests, which are playful in spirit, and most importantly, do not require much commitment from an individual. This reminded me of when the various communities on the website Tumblr organised their own convention in 2014, DashCon, a cultural event where different online fandoms get together to celebrate, support artists by buying their merchandise, and participate in various entertaining activities. The key difference between the two examples of digital communities transforming into analogue is their nature: DashCon seemed to be a playful event, yet it was an overly ambitious and underdeveloped project, which led to a lot of disappointment among attendees, and these short-term meet-ups for a contest had a very simplistic approach to a successful community-building activity.

People are learning every day just how much social media algorithms can be challenged and bent toward weaving the webs of community. A tool set up for distraction is being turned into a site of action for everybody. As this process continues, I’m sure we will soon see more signs of the digital world reverting to an enriching retro space that serves as a tool for real-life community building.