Why I'm Tired of Performing Online (And What That Has to Do with Gyaru)

Galsnap as viewed through the Wayback Machine

I was a middle schooler at a time when phones weren't that smart. Social media was the Wild West. Each discovered platform felt new, a cool and fresh way to express yourself and connect with others. These days, when I compare my memory of social media as an 11-year-old to social media now, the one thing that stands out is how everything has become about buying and being sold. 

My Instagram is almost entirely co-opted by ads. I'll sooner see an ad for some new, drop-shipped kawaii brand on my timeline than I'll see a post from one of my actual friends. And when I do see a post from my friends, they are usually stylized to the point of looking like an editorial in a magazine. I don't think this is a coincidence. 

Long gone are the days of blurry breakfast photos or a funny-faced, too-close snapshot with friends. Everything is so filtered (and I don't mean in sepia or Mayfair) and well-composed. Their outfits looked planned in advance, same with the location. It all has the air of a professional photo shoot, even when it's a post by your buddy who works in finance. 

I remember when this switch was occurring: when we were going from random home-photos to meticulously coordinating the aesthetics of our grid. I thought it was pretty cool at the time. I wanted to take part. But the longer it's gone on, the more I've come to loathe it. It didn't take long for me to identify why it sits so poorly. 

I've boiled it down to two specific reasons: 

1. The everyday person has to transform themselves into a brand. 

2. (and this is a consequence of 1) We are all constantly selling ourselves. 

And for what? To whom?? It makes sense for a company's Instagram to be selling something, but for the average user, what's the objective? Why are we expected to perform the same way? I think this coincides with hustle culture and the idea that we must optimize every single second of our lives and that not a nano-second of it should be wasted on something that doesn't potentially make us money. That last point is particularly funny to me because I think that in spite of this push for "hustling" and "optimization" we do have a tendency to waste a lot of our time doom-scrolling. 

Now everyone’s an influencer. We’re all trying to prove that we’re interesting, worthy, creative. That our output has value.

I'm not a hustler. I am a woman of leisure. I think life is about enjoying it, taking care of each other, and making meaning wherever we can. I'm also under no delusion that I'm some special person whose ideas or art needs to be heard/experienced on a wide scale. That's not to suggest that I think I should stop vocalizing my ideas or making art simply because it's not "the best" or super popular. Far from it. I think the exact opposite. I think it's worth making art even if nobody cares. Even if nobody ever cares. 

If you've made it this far, I'm sure you're wondering how I'm going to connect this to gyaru. If you're one of my friends or have been here a while, then you'll know I can connect anything to gyaru. 

These days, most of the modern gyaru congregate on Twitter (X) and Instagram. I would love to be a bigger part of the community, and have longed for it since I first got into gyaru, but the way that most popular gyaru figures use social media these days is so... off-putting to me. 

This isn’t a critique of any individual gyaru creator, but rather an observation of what it takes to gain visibility on today’s social media platforms. The most popular gyaru (both Japanese and gaijin) tend to converge on a highly specific aesthetic. It’s a polished, consistent version of gyaru that clearly resonates with Gen Z and Gen Alpha audiences. Their success often hinges not just on style, but on strategic posting, branding, and engagement. Many Japanese gyaru today double as bikini models or hostesses, roles long associated with the subculture, but their self-promotion (whether for girls’ bars, club events, or personal brands) feels distinctly shaped by the algorithm-driven internet age. Likewise, prominent gaijin gyaru typically monetize their personas through content creation, music, fashion, or sponsored posts. What results is a kind of homogenization: a gyaru image tailored for maximum reach, visibility, and marketability.

To be clear, I’m not suggesting that any of this is inherently unethical. Sex work and its adjacent industries are legitimate forms of labor and should be safe, respected, and de-stigmatized. Likewise, getting paid for your work (creative, aesthetic, or otherwise) doesn’t diminish its value or authenticity.

What I’m pointing to is the broader shift: gyaru, like so many alternative subcultures, has become a business. When something becomes popular, it becomes sellable. This isn’t so much a critique of the individuals participating in that system as it is of the platforms that incentivize this behavior. Algorithms reward what generates profit, especially for the platforms themselves.

So...where do we go from here? I almost ended this as just a reflection on a modern trend, but I’m honestly exhausted by doomer takes that stop at “Well, what can we even do?” Sure, we may not have the power to overhaul these platforms on our own, but that doesn’t mean we’re powerless.

If you're like me and feel alienated by the way social media functions today, there are really only two choices: opt out completely, or reclaim it on your own terms.

If you’re gyaru (and even if you’re not), post whatever the hell you want. Maybe you already are. Amazing! Keep going. Spam a bunch of pics in a single day, then vanish for a month. Post what you want, when you want. That’s the point. 

It starts with us. 

The motivation shouldn’t be external validation. It should be joy.