When filters first became a thing, I used them in almost all the images I posted on social media.

Amaro and Rise were my go-to’s on Instagram. At the press of a button I could transform a photo from something ordinary into a much more alluring picture. It didn’t matter whether it was a landscape or a selfie, I loved being able to create a more interesting effect.

As a hobbyist photographer, I told myself that this, too, was art. And art, by its very nature, is a creative interpretation of reality.

This was the heyday of the highlight reel, before any of us were posting our messy truths. There was no #instagramversusreality hashtag. Not only were we showcasing pictures that hinted at a perfectly put together life, but we were manipulating the images to make the visual even more alluring.

Everything was being enhanced. So much so that when I once posted photos from the beach on my stories, I felt compelled to use a sparkle filter because apparently the sea and sand needed an extra bit of oomph for them to be worthy of gracing a screen.

It occurred to me then that the use of filters was not only changing the way we shared our world online, but also the way we viewed our reality offline. We were distorting our sense of beauty, both within our environments and in the way we saw ourselves.

Unedited photos and videos seemed flat and dull in comparison to augmented images. Especially when it came to self-portraits. Suddenly we all had access to what had previously been reserved for celebrities and supermodels: instant airbrushing. It was too tempting not to give ourselves a make-over.

That was when I first began to have a glimmer of fear about what social media friends might think of me when they met me in real life. Since it was impossible for me to walk around with an Amaro filter distributing just the right amount of light to my face, how could I possibly match the carefully curated image I shared on screen?

The fleeting feel-good moments from lots of likes on a post simply created more pressure when I’d see my filterless reflection in the mirror. I started asking myself who I was seeking to impress, and why.

Around the same time, the butterfly crown burst onto the scene over on Snapchat giving users a golden halo effect that everyone wanted. “It’s just harmless fun” people cried. “Look, you can have dog ears, too!”

But it wasn’t just butterflies or playful puppy ears. The filters also gave us smoother skin, bigger eyes, and whiter teeth. Faces were slimmer and cheekbones were more chiseled. We were further distorting our perception of beauty under the guise of having a good time.

As the filter trend evolved, more people than ever before began to get on board. In 2020, the "Perfect Skin" filter for Snapchat and Instagram, created by Brazilian augmented reality developer Brenno Faustino, gained more than 36 million impressions in the first 24 hours of its release.

We’d ditched the animal magic but we’d kept the face-tuning features. Many of the new filters were more subtle, but in many ways this was more sinister. It was no longer instantly obvious that a filter was indeed a filter. We weren’t clearly playing dress-up anymore but we were continuing to modify our likeness.

In an even more sinister twist, many filters are Eurocentric and lean towards skin lightening and slimmed down facial features that further establish the stereotype that non-white characteristics are less attractive. (Ironically, filters also commonly make lips look bigger which poses deeper questions around how we selective we are in who and what we appropriate.)

Even online business meetings were fair game. Zoom introduced a “Touch up my appearance” option so users could have an instant glow-up while on conference calls. Now we were seeing “everyday” people look more polished, leaving us feeling less-than in comparison.

Those of us who opted not to use filters weren’t necessarily in the clear. A number of apps were released with built in features to auto-enhance photos without users even realizing.

I first noticed this a few years ago when my husband used my new iPhone to take some photos of me by the pool. Although I quite liked the “flattering” images of myself at first glance, I quickly noticed that my skin was suspiciously smooth. Sure enough, when I checked the settings, there were some new additions to the camera mode that hadn’t been there before.

In the era of digital convenience, technology is developed to assume what we want and provide it for us with effortless ease. We, quite literally, don’t have to lift a finger. We’re not just competing with models in magazines, we’re now competing with versions of ourselves that don’t exist.

Along with the rise in the popularity of filters has come a growing concern for the mental health of young people, especially teenage girls. There has been much written about the pressure on young women to appear as flawless as the influencers they follow online, seemingly sparking an even greater decline in the self-esteem of what is already a vulnerable demographic.

But what about older women? How has the “harmless” fun of filters impacted us?

Arguably, we’re affected even more than younger women who, at the very least, have youth on their side. Although filters reinforce an unrealistic ideal for everyone, this feels even more unattainable if we’re visibly aging. We’ve committed the societal crime of no longer looking youthful, so the temptation to improve our appearance with the help of cosmetology and plastic surgery becomes even higher.

Wrinkles are normal. Frown lines are normal. Laughter lines are normal. But we struggle to accept them, and ourselves, because we’re constantly bombarded with an artificial view of what we “should” look like. This disconnect has us racing to get cosmetic procedures in droves, convinced that we feel better afterwards, despite the fact that the only problem we’re solving is one that was cleverly sold to us. We’re erasing our experience of aging and calling it confidence.

The beauty industry thrives when we buy into the idea that our lives will be better once we’ve altered our appearance. Self-acceptance is always a product or a procedure away. Filters feed into the concept that we’re more attractive when we’ve made modifications to how we look. They’re a fantasy gateway to the reality we hope to have.

Plastic surgeons have shared that it’s not uncommon for women to come in for consultations showing images of their filtered faces as their ideal goal. How harmless can filters really be if they’re prompting us to make permanent changes to how we look?

But what about make-up? Hair dye? Fashion? Aren’t we always enhancing our appearance in one way or another?

Well, this is where the lines become even more blurred. Some will say that hair, fashion, and makeup are creative tools used to explore and express our identity. Others will say that these are tools of the patriarchy used to give us a false sense of self-worth and keep us trapped in a never ending cycle of being hyper-conscious of how we look.

What I know for sure is that it’s incredibly hard to separate ourselves from the beauty beliefs we’ve inherited, especially when they’ve been reinforced by repetition over lifetimes.

I’m someone who’s never had Botox, fillers, or injectables of any kind. I’m also someone who wears make up, loves clothes, shaves my body hair, and has used hair dye for years. Aren’t I a hypocrite for indulging in some beauty rituals while criticizing others?

That’s something I’m getting curious about. I recently ditched the dye as I explore the process of (possibly) going gray. After yet another long and expensive balayage appointment, I decided to see what it was like to let my silver strands come through without feeling the need to cover them up.

It’s been six months since I had my hair colored, save a temporary gloss when I last had a trim a few months back. I’m now at that awkward in-between stage and I’m conscious that I’m not looking my “best”.

But then I consider what my “best” actually is, and who gets to define it.

Can we enjoy beauty practices while not allowing them to suck away our self-esteem? Is it possible to play around with fun looks or filters and not create any kind of link between our appearance and our worth?

I’m still figuring that part out.

The most important piece of the puzzle seems to be connected to our Why. If we can be honest with ourselves about what’s prompting us to participate in the beautification of any part of our appearance in the first place, maybe we stand a better chance of being less affected by the outcome.

Perhaps, when it comes to meeting societal standards of any kind, we could sit with the question, “Is this making me feel more connected, or disconnected, to who I really am?”

It also feels crucial to make sure we’re engaging in activities that build our confidence in other ways. By placing less importance on how we look and being more present to how we feel, we’re offering ourselves an opportunity to have richer and more fulfilling experiences that give us a true, and unfiltered, sense of satisfaction.

If you’d like to see more posts like this, join me over on Substack. You’ll get all my latest musings emailed to you so you won’t miss a thing.