One holiday weekend while visiting my parents, I convinced them to watch Fleabag, forgetting that the first scene of season one involves graphic anal sex. Laughter eventually broke the awkward silence and I watched as my parents succumbed (my dad, reluctantly; my mom, enthusiastically) to the endearing charm of the titular character. Fleabag wants us, her audience, to love her. She breaks the fourth wall to talk to us, joke with us, and narrate her life as it unfolds. In other words, she is performing for us.
In today’s internet-driven world, many of us now live our lives with an audience. Private lives have become public domain, whether by active choice (Instagram) or passive acceptance (online surveillance culture). Our relationship to social media has become such a ubiquitous part of daily life that it’s prompted countless essays and the accepted discourse that what we see on our feed is simply a highlight reel. The social internet has changed from when it was new and shiny. The initial desire to present ourselves as perfect has been overtaken by a desire to appear authentic. And most recently, the desire to publicly demonstrate self-growth.