The power of the "Instavangelists."
I've spent much of the pandemic on my couch. Staring into the void on my phone, lockdown forced me to take stock of where my life was when the music stopped. I found the results so unsettling. I'm almost 37 and I'd thought I'd be on a path by now, whatever that means. But instead it all still feels so uncertain. I'm not married. I don't have children. I don't own a home. It can be disorienting — because I don't really have a religion I belong to either. |
At least not according to the traditional definition of religion. There are many things I believe, but they don't fit into a standard box. Sometimes, it feels like they are best articulated on the apps on my phone. That's where a group of effusive, empathetic, confident but vulnerable-seeming women post reassuring content to their followers — telling us we're not so lost after all. |
Call them "Instavangelists." From Glennon Doyle (1.5 million followers), to Brené Brown (3.3 million followers), to Gwyneth Paltrow (7.5 million followers), these women offer the other women who follow them permission, validation and community on-demand — at a time when it's nearly impossible to get that in person. |
To me, their power — and the moral authority these women wield over their millions of followers — seems just as resonant as any conventional religious figure. One of Doyle's classic mantras resonates with me as I confront adversity: We can do hard things. |
I follow a lot of other millennial women on Twitter who seem to be thinking about these things too. I reached out to one of them, Leigh Stein, after she shared ideas that intrigued me. In the Op-Ed she sent me, which published this morning, Stein examines a new kind of scripture. "Our new belief system is a blend of left-wing political orthodoxy, intersectional feminism, self-optimization, therapy, wellness, astrology and Dolly Parton," she writes. "And we've found a different kind of clergy: personal growth influencers." |
Her writing helped me translate some of the ambivalence I feel about this phenomenon into the broader social and political trends they represent — the factors that quietly shaped my life into the circumstances I'm navigating today. |
"While they don't brand themselves as faith leaders, this is the role they play in many of their secular fans' lives," Stein writes. "The size of their devoted, ecstatic, largely female following shows how many American women are desperate for good vibes, coping skills for modern life, and proactive steps to combat injustice and inequality." |
But it's worth thinking through the costs of this solitary communion. Maybe what we're actually seeking is connection — but we can't get that from our phones. We have to get it from each other. |
In 2020, the Times's award-winning Op-Docs series showcased independent short films from around the world that went beyond the news to immerse viewers in the personal stories and histories behind the headlines. In a film executive produced by Ava DuVernay, a Black composer and his grandfather traced their family's journey from Jim Crow Florida to Hollywood success. In a work The New Yorker's Richard Brody calls "an extraordinary look at a case of Freudian gaslighting," a filmmaker inspired by the #MeToo movement re-examined the psychiatrist's only major case study on a female patient, reimagining her as a young woman today. |
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