Among other things: raunch culture is back
Now it's a link in bio instead of a 'call now!'
My Instagram algorithm has been taken over by the strangest corners of OnlyFans creators.
I’m not talking about the standard issue “check out my bare butt and boobs via the link in my bio.” I’m talking about, I’m getting Reels served to me of: A woman in her 70s “eager to show off”; a young woman who capitalizes on looking sub-18 flaunting her biggest spenders—all of whom appear older than 60; and two women posing as mother and daughter urging you to see what they're up to on their OnlyFans (please tell me they’re pretending…..)
I’m not sure what triggered it—who I searched for, or what I lingered on—but I know I’m now complicit. I stay for the full video, mouth agape, reading the comments and liking the funniest ones. I know I should indicate to the algorithm gods that this is not content that I’m actually interested in, but rather a zoo-like experience I didn’t intend to walk into.
But the more I observe this new wave of non-sexy sexual content, the more I’m reminded that we’re back in the early 2000s again.
The casual cruelty of the early 2000s are back
I wrote right after the election about how Trump 2.0 is culturally resembling an eerily similar but grosser version of the W. Bush era.
As a preteen and teenager in the early 2000s, my media diet was peppered with ‘raunch’ content. I imagine most of y’all were around for this: pop culture was punctuated by celebrity sex tapes (both accidentally leaked and not), doing literal upskirt paparazzi shots to female celebrities, and commercials for Girls Gone Wild (plus the adjacent knock-offs) were omnipresent on cable after 9 pm. Oh, and the reality TV offerings were…special:
My memory of post-9/11, pre-Obama era America often reminds me of eating at a greasy diner after a wild night out. You’re glassy-eyed, maybe a tiny bit shell-shocked, in need of hydration and maybe a hug, and everything in your orbit has a slightly greasy sheen to it, from your friend’s forehead to the plate of chocolate chip waffles you hope will circumvent a hangover, to the fluorescent lighting hanging over you.