For my precursor, I set about creating an online presence for my 12-14 year old self. My project studies the way young women aged 12-18 represent themselves through social media such as Tumblr and Instagram in 2015. Having experienced what it is like to be that age I feel a special connection to this audience. I feel almost a protective urge toward them. Additionally, there is a large age gap between myself and my sister, Phoebe who turns 14 soon. I constantly project my own experiences of being her age onto her, feeling like my own experiences are an advantage she has over the wicked monster of adolescence. But, my research into the current virtual environment suggests I should just throw those experiences out the window, such is the profoundly transformed digital space available to her.

So I asked myself, if I had access to Instagram and Tumblr in 2006, what would my profile look like? And, since I’m working under the hypothesis that young girls use these mediums to present a ‘curated version’ of their lives, how would I strategically represent myself?

Preliminary content analysis has revealed the very different ways girls use Tumblr and Instagram to represent their identities. Tumblr appears to be a place of anonymity, where girls can disassociate themselves from their ‘IRL” identity and because of this, be extremely raw and honest. Tumblr is replete with text posts in a confessional style. Users seem empowered by their anonymous identities and often use the medium as a bit of a short and sweet/truncated online diary. I took this idea to its extreme, by hunting through my old diaries and posting actual excerpts of my inner thoughts at ages 10-18. With faith in its anonymity, my younger self confided in my diaries in the same way as many modern Tumblr users do online. The only real medium available to me back then was the written word, so I played with the idea of myself potentially using Tumblr as my anonymous confidante. I will note that the process of deciding what to post online was an act of curation by my adult self. I have posted passages that are expository (ie. They capture an age or mood really well), interesting and of course not too vulnerable. But, this may also emulate the process of what the Tumblr user decides to put online.

From there I created an instagram account for my younger self, uploading old photos and captioning them using the current codes and conventions of language I’ve encountered in my content analysis. I used instagram to visually represent moments outlined in my diaries. At times of self loathing and insecurity, I imagined my younger self searching ‘thinspiration’ and posted a few images I would hypothetically be exposed to.  I tried to think about the different things I would post about when I was 12 to when I was 18- based on first hand accounts of those ages in my diary. I tried to think about how I would use instagram to lie to myself, about things I truly felt. I thought about how I could construct a public identity which differed from my more honest Tumblr interactions. And most of all,  I tried to think about how I would use instagram as consolation for reality.

Believe it or not, I found this process more vulnerable than actually posting excerpts of a secret diary, as instagram feels less anonymous, being primarily image based. I was apprehensive about putting pictures of my younger self up in the public domain in the same way a mother feels uncomfortable about having photos of her child put up on Facebook- you never knew who would be looking. This hit home as I posted a image of the ‘thinspiration’ vein which said ‘name a food and I won’t eat it for a month’. A user, believing my profile was authored by a 12 year old girl, actually suggested a few foods for me to give up.  Similarly, random users liked my photo ‘one like=one hour fasting’- encouraging a young girl to starve herself and while being on my profile, liking a few pictures of me at 12. This was disturbing and sobering, but showed how active the community who follows these hashtags are and how willingly they will reinforce eachother’s behaviour. After discussions with some of you guys in the lab, I decided to keep my profile public to see where it went and who would find it.

The idea for my first precursor really flowed on from this blog post I wrote for our non fiction site. It was a huge Eureka moment for me on the possibilities of non fiction and the limits of the memoir. Take a look.

I’m finally enjoying the liberation of having some direction in my Honours thesis, having picked a topic and had a supervisor agree to help me along. I still feel like one of those golden retrievers wearing science goggles in those “I have no idea what I’m doing” memes amongst a group of Media and Communication’s best and brightest…. but soon, hopefully soon I’ll feel more apart of their Marvel/DC cartoon prequel series about theoretical superheroes before they hit the big time.

A new kind of curator is emerging, less decked out in vermillion lippie and Scanlan and Theodore and more obsessed with One Direction. She doesn’t pay for her phone credit and thinks her mum is totally embarrassing but she is as skilled in the art of structuring and manipulating interpretations of the works of herself and others (#regram). I speak of the tween, an 11-13 year old menace to the peace of train commutes, who has grown up immersed in technology without novelty- something she already knows the full potential and power of. She curates a version of herself online, ordering the viewer through the gallery of her life in a deliberate loop aimed at promoting the best possible version of herself.

March 2015

10/03/15

A new kind of curator is emerging, less decked out in Scanlan and Theodore and more obsessed with One Direction. She doesn’t pay for her phone credit and thinks her mum is totally embarrassing but she is as skilled in the art of structuring and manipulating interpretations of the works of herself and others (#regram). I speak of the tween, an 11-13 year old menace to the peace of train commutes, who has grown up immersed in technology without novelty- something she already knows the full potential and power of. She curates a version of herself online, ordering the viewer through the gallery of her life in a deliberate loop aimed at promoting the prettiest possible version of herself. I’d like to examine the effect of “clean eating” messaging on this extremely vulnerable yet tech savvy audience. I’d like to ask what the implications of being urged to live “cleanly” are for a young female’s sense of self and body image, alongside a discussion of how this idea of “living cleanly” might be assessed through the lens of feminist theory. I’d also like to examine the use of the “thinspirational” hashtag in facilitating a community of young women suffering from eating disordered behaviours, offering consolation as well as inspiration in the most sinister of ways.

My favourite ad right now….

The Ronald McDonald House campaign currently running in the form of a TVC is an example of some excellent advertising.

The ad highlights the importance of initiatives in place to keep sick kids and their families together, representing this in visual terms through a little girl’s journey “out of the woods” and into a fresh outlook on the world. We see how it takes an entire family to help the little girl up a tree, and feel a sense of joy as she reaches the top, where alongside her Mum she looks out at the beautiful view of all life now has to offer her.

Instead of resorting to ‘sick kid’ cliches, the ad creators pull on the audience’s heartstrings through the highly creative visual metaphor of the little girl’s journey up the tree. It’s an image which effectively conveys Ronald McDonald House’s key message, that “Family is the best medicine. Ronald McDonald House Charities help them stay close”.

The soundtrack used in the TVC is also exceptionally emotive, a rendition of Barry Louis Polisar’s “All I Want is You”, which you may remember from the film Juno. The song is a lilting lullaby beginning the moment the little girl finds shelter up the tree. This moment of auditory relief from the imminent boom of thunder, reiterates how the the tree is symbolic of the facilities and services the organisation offers as a form of “shelter from the storm” for vulnerable families.

Additionally, the ad’s appeal to me also lies in the immersive setting it momentarily presents us. It is always a break for the senses when it appears within the ad break, usually book ended of course by high intensity car ads or tv trailers inexplicably scored by a breathy female husk. But this fails to be one of those ads whose message hides behind exceptional production values. The visual metaphor presents a strong, clear and relevant connection to the values of the actual brand.

My favourite brand…

RMIT University is one of my favourite brands. This may be due to the fact that I have personally helped to look after it this year working in its PR department, or that it has been the place where I have discovered as a student what I want to do with my life. But I feel even as an outsider, I would thing the brand and its values are always conveyed interestingly and succinctly. Across a variety of campaigns their branding is always immensely consistent, even as a Year 12 student many years back I could almost rattle off the terms “Global, Urban, Connected” which still form the cornerstone of all of its Comms and Marketing strategy. I like how they capitalise on the University’s location in the heart of the CBD through messaging like “I am part of a living city”, establishing themselves almost as part of the fabric of Melbourne itself. The other key element I’ve always loved has been the continuous use of an unsmiling black and white student/alumnus/staff member in its Print advertising. Subverting the usual smiling multicultural group sitting on a manicured lawn, these ads are more visually striking, showing people who seem cool and assured of their place in the world. It’s an enigmatic “mona lisa smile” which is literally embedded within their marketing strategy- the subjects still appear friendly but aren’t actually allowed to smile.

A challenge I have faced in my professional life…

Thriving most in vulnerable sections of society, Mental Illness remains one of the hardest things for Australians to talk about. If people are unable to physically communicate about this issue, you can imagine how problematic taking this conversation to social media can be.
Last year I was charged with doing just that whilst working on a mental health awareness campaign at an NGO.
After speaking to many journalists who simply hung up the phone at the mere mention of an ambassador affected by suicide, I decided to make contact with Jeremy Little from Mindframe, an organisation charged with educating practitioners about the discussion of suicide and other issues of high sensitivity in a Web 2.0 context. Jeremy’s input became invaluable with the rise in popularity of our social media channels. As our pursuit of media coverage fell on ears deafened by the restrictions and particulars of reportage about mental health, we noticed a huge spike in the popularity of our Web 2.0 channels.

But this blessing, turned out to be a very unexpected curse, as we were faced with the pitfalls of creating a thriving hub of social media engagement. We had unwittingly created a community which had taken on a form entirely of its own, as tragic stories emerged through our feeds and people wrote in with expressions of hopelessness we were not equipped to handle in a mere comment box.
In the age of Web 2.0, the barriers of expression had been broken down so effectively that people were taking to our pages to share their darkest thoughts.

So guided by Mindframe’s recommendations, the team went into a state of crisis management, deleting comments readers would find triggering, and contacting their authors with details of support networks they might defer their concerns to. We wanted to now use our influence to take the conversation, ironically, offline and targeted toward professional organisations such as Lifeline and headspace.

The discovery and promotion of eheadspace, a platform whereby users can anonymously make contact with a mental health professional online, tapped into people’s comfortability with expressing themselves freely online and channelled it toward a more appropriate source.

It is certainly a challenging fact that Web 2.0 is a fabulous opportunity for connecting with our audiences, however, the democratic free for all of the medium means we as strategic communicators are no longer able to control this conversation.

What does my ideal work situation look like?

I’d like to be involved with an organisation whose values and internal culture I admire and would one day wish to emulate in my own organisation.

An ideal work situation for me is one that affords the same level of respect and affection for the PAs, interns, mail guys and receptionists as the Executives, Seniors, COOs and CEOs. I have found that the mark of an effective or ineffective working culture is how an organisation treats the person who is hypothetically on the lowest rung of the corporate ladder due to age, experience, position description or income.
In addition, I am a person who responds well to a fast paced environment replete with deadlines hanging in the air as an organised person with an above average level of focus.
I think the best teams are the ones who can bounce off each other, build a repartee and have a laugh together, even a couple of hours after a conflict or professional slip up.
Finally, it appeals to me being part of a unit who are all interested in a similar field and fascinated by the way we attempt to relate to each other through this thing called Communication.

Proudest accomplishments:

1. As students we go through a patchwork of different jobs at uni. For a summer I worked as children’s theatre show performer. The production, a popular adaptation of an Andy Griffiths book, was one of the greatest achievements of my life. Not only was I paid to perform “Gangnam Style” twice a day (back then that was current) and pretend to vomit out yoghurt with green food colouring at the end of every show (you may be familiar with Andy Griffiths’ aesthetic as the author of ‘The Day My Bum went Psycho’)…. I got to make thousands of little kids laugh. We toured the production through a few local schools for kids and young adults living with disability, and the incredible joy and fascination on their faces gave me a feeling of satisfaction almost nothing could ever live up to. Subsequently I became a tutor for teenagers with intellectual disabilities and the experiences I’ve shared with my students, as well as those audience members are memories I’ll always comfortingly take with me to my future ‘grown up’ jobs- which will hopefully involve less Gangnam Style and fake vomit.

2. In 2011 I graduated high school with an ATAR score of 98.1 and a perfect score of 50 in English. This is obviously a change of tact from the first accomplishment on this list, but this achievement means much more than a number to me. Toward the end of year 12 I fell profoundly ill and wasn’t able to attend school for weeks. I nearly resigned myself to failure (quantifiable back then by a certain ATAR score), but I looked back on the work I had done all year and throughout my schooling and refused to give up on a number that did justice to my effort and attitude. I drew on the repartee I had established with my teachers and in turn they worked hard to help me through the year in a way that again did justice to my effort and attitude. I emerged as the Dux of three subjects, with one perfect score and an ATAR that really defied everyone’s belief.
But beside from giving me lots of options to pick from at Uni, the most satisfying thing about this accomplishment was the fact that excellent academic results meant I had the credibility to first establish myself as a VCE English and Literature Tutor. Since then I have tutored and mentored over 30 students through the bubble that is VCE, alongside work with young adults with intellectual disabilities. This job has really affirmed to me my talent for communication, for using carefully targeted strategies to appeal to different modes of thinking and understanding, for translating complexity into relatability and for dealing with a variety of different personalities, each with their own difficulties and rewards.

As a leftie feminist fond of being treated with respect in romantic relationships, it is a very predictable post I am about to write having spent the evening watching 50 Shades of Grey. However, I’ll write it anyway and add to the number of shrill but absolutely on point criticisms of the films glorification of domestic violence.

Well first off, thanks to E L James’ sneaky idea of making Ana sign a ‘contract’, the BDSM scenes in the film seemed more like a bit of campy fun and didn’t carry the undertones of sexual violence I expected them to. The sex scenes were truly nothing special or anything to write home about. To be quite honest, there would be more sexual chemistry between a small dog and its owner’s calf than Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan.

Unfortunately for Diector Sam Taylor-Johnson, the decision to include barely 15 minutes of actual intercourse in the entire film did it no favours, as instead we spend most of the movie focused in on the distressing courtship and manipulation of Anastasia by Christian outside of the bedroom. The books almost get away with their disturbing premise due to their nature of works of campy erotica, but the film’s futile mission to embed meaning and complexity in a story that began as Twilight fan fiction is where it trips over itself and gives itself away.

How about that Christian Grey, what a beacon of Mr Right-ness, dripping with threatening sexuality and so great at being the thinking woman’s crumpet?

God, wasn’t it so Cleo Bachelor of the Year when he left Anastasia cute little “Eat Me” “Drink Me” notes for the Berocca on her bedside table after she foolishly got drunk, drunk dialled him, was tracked down via Sony Cyberattack style computer smarts by him and then whisked home- unconscious and stripped naked and dressed by a man she had met on one prior occasion.

Didn’t we all just swoon when Christian was so good as to share her bed after sex and sleep next to her given his staunch rules against exposure to affection and normalcy stemming from being statutory raped as a teen?

The most disturbing part of this movie was the throbbing sighs heard in the theatre on the rare occasions Mr Grey condescended to doing something vaguely nice for his little woman.

Thankfully most males (except under duress) probably won’t be exposed to this movie, which dangerously tells us that all you need to do to be a sex symbol is stalk your girlfriend, break into her house and sell her property.

The constant shots of Christian carrying Anastasia in his arms to her room did more to show his infantilisation of her than even the obvious “Anastasia you must wear this peach coloured dress that makes you look like 4”. Weary from a long hard session of sexual domination, Ana is dropped off to her sleeping quarters by a man who could easily be a long suffering Dad whose kid has fallen asleep in front of Road to Eldorado. When she salaciously stands up to Christian, ie. expresses herself and doesn’t go along with being his doll and says “I want to go home, is that ok?” it is more like a sarcastic retort to a daggy dad. OOOO you go girl #thesass. But then you go “OH WAIT” when you realise that is a serious request because the only way of her fleeing the man she has just had a fight with is having him drive her home from this sex compound. Again we get a nice little shot of long suffering Dad Christian driving home his sleeping little girl Anastasia.

Is this supposed to be some metaphor for the sexual molestation Christian received at the hands of a superior figure? I  don’t think the film is that smart.

The film is like that one extremely self deprecating friend you have who is just prone to foot in mouth syndrome. Just when you think she’s all g talking to that fly ass homie at the clerb she says something too fucked up to appear self deprecating and endearing and things get awkward for us all and we have to call in Rita Ora for backup. It could go with the campy sexy angle and give the housewives what they want, but instead it commits an act of horrendous self sabotage in its bid to look all Sundancey and classsy. The disturbing, unsettling and persuasive fetishisation of domestic violence in the novels is the thing its critic’s have most latched onto (WITH GOOD REASON) SO WHY ON EARTH MAKE THAT THE FOCAL POINT OF THE FILM?

Basically, I would have been happier if this film resembled a 90 minute long porno which is saying a lot coming from someone who could bore you to tears over a glass of cheap red intoning the unrealistic expectations it sets up for teenage boys.

Yes I am that girl at that family BBQ.