My friend approached me one morning, after we and my housemates went to a gig in Workman’s Cellar, to ask a question about a moment from the night before. He had been standing still on the dancefloor, having suddenly stopped dancing, and, after some time at this, had looked over to see my housemates assembled together by a table, laughing. They laughed at how one minute he was dancing, the next he was the only one standing dead still on the dancefloor. No deeper than that. This was lost on my friend, who perceived the laughter as being directed at him as a person, and the whole thing understandably embarrassed them.
He asked me that morning, based on a mix of ego and anxiety that arose in them due to this incident, the self-answering question: “What is it about me that appears self-conscious to you?”
Being self-conscious is something everyone experiences, whether in varying degrees throughout the weeks, in short, sharp bursts out of nowhere, or as a constant element of daily life. However, it is interesting what happens when self-consciousness and other, heavier mental health-related issues are focused on in the zeitgeist as it is today.
I think it’s only correct to say that media representation of such difficulties is both a comfort and an aid to those who feel isolated by the worry that others are not so inhibited. A perfect example would be Billie Eilish’s music and how it deals with issues ranging from toxic relationships to severe mental health issues.
This representation provides something of a balance against the social media image that we can create of and for ourselves that convey, in some profiles’ cases, a seemingly confident and enviable self-assurance. Some people look like they have it all figured out. With social media, that image echoes and echoes in a form that previous generations wouldn’t have had to deal with. Representation of the uncertainty and difficulties we deal with as we become ourselves is a shelter from this, but in the same echoing form of online eternity.
What is interesting about this, as it appears in the media, is what happens when an artist such as Billie Eilish becomes famous—as she has—and tours around the world successfully—as she does. This brings additional qualities to her comforting representation of mental health and relationship issues: confidence and self-exposure. Now, the figure who we relate to as a representative figure becomes something we are not: an impressive and successful operator in a field hailed as the height of social standing, confidence and self-composure. Whether it’s as lovely as it looks or not, the position of the “good” celebrity, while it lasts, is certainly one surrounded by mass praise.
Billie Eilish does nothing more than any other famous singer/songwriter. She tours and does press runs and photoshoots, as is prudent in such an industry to maintain success. There is nothing inherently wrong in doing so. However, in doing so, the divide between us and celebrity representatives of the issues we all face becomes more and more like a sort of Instagram image, reminding us not who we are, but who we are not. In Billie Eilish’s case, we see someone who not only struggles with the same things you or I do, but also succeeds in the ultra-popular field of modern media. Consider the lyrics of “idontwannabeyouanymore” “Listen Before I Go”, and the heavier lines in “Bury A Friend”—Eilish’s music has been a massive moment in mainstream artistic engagement with mental health issues in such a direct way. She has also been an open book regarding her mental health, adding weight to her lyrics as well as showing her strength in doing so with such attention and popularity. I certainly don’t feel as impressive as someone who has songs with over a billion streams, nevermind one who also deals with their demons in their songs. This is not something that I believe should be held against an artist who cannot do anything about how we value their image. What I believe is relevant here is that, in facing the image of a successful and popular representative figure for such things as anxiety and depression, it is easy to feel underqualified in one’s own struggles.
It is unfair to feel this way. It is not the issues someone like Billie Eilish faces that bring her success, it’s her talent and professional work. Our issues are separate from what we do day-to-day, whether it be a day of being on tour or a day of lectures. Having issues in common with someone like Billie Eilish, even if that’s the only thing in common, is a sneaky way to let oneself feel less valid. We cannot compare one’s triumph to another’s.
The issue of representations in media being surrounded by so many confident and impressive feats of social interaction is not what they comment on or reveal about themselves in their art, but how much acceptance they get from the public. Whether it be public speaking, performances in front of thousands of people, or the massive popularity and fandom that validates everything a celebrity does, this acceptance further pushes the representation of, say, you or I, farther from a dialogue between listener and artist and closer to an alien Instagram profile of some popular celebrity. Behold, what I have become and what you now look up at. We both struggle with our mental health, so what are you missing?
This often unintended and uncontrollable divide between artist and listener is not new, but the level to which it is advertised is. While our parents might have seen the occasional TV interview, magazine photoshoot, or article with an artist of the time, we can see our favourite artists in intimate documentaries, concert footage, or social media posts. We see these people as often as we see our friends online, if not more. The divide between this person and you has never been so heavily advertised to you. So if they provide good, realistic representation of mental health struggles—or of anything else—everything around them showcases a high standard of achievement within this delicate area that is representation. Just as representation reminds one of what is possible for one to achieve, in a sense, it also shows the fame and mass-acceptance and adoration that is not probable.
We should, through figures like Billie Eilish, remind ourselves that any difficulties we face in our mental health or self-assurance do not isolate us from the world and take us out of the running. We should also remind ourselves that the feats of confidence and exposure of self in the public eye that prove and advertise representation such as Billie Eilish are not high standards or qualifications that, upon meeting, we might then be allowed to feel loved by ourselves as Eilish is by millions; these feats are merely symptoms of celebrity representation.
My friend asked me what about them appeared self-conscious… the most self-conscious question I’d ever heard. It is also a question that, like this article, focuses on their image, not my friend themself—something that, like in Billie Eilish’s case, is under the control and scrutiny of other people, and therefore not that by which we should solely value ourselves. My friend’s question led to a very healthy dialogue about each of our senses of self, but their question made me think about how much image has always affected people’s view of themselves, and how readily, constantly available the image of others and of representative figures are for us today.
You’re you. Welcome you. Thank you.
WORDS: Cormac Nugent
