Every year I missed out…
September came around and Refinery 29Rooms would suddenly appear on my calendar. Every year, I’d sit from my couch watching friends take their HD pics with the latest smartphone. This year, though, I was prepped and ready to take snapshots of my own for some of the most Instagram-worthy content ever.
Refinery 29Rooms wasn’t what I expected
What does this have to do with body image? Approaching the line to get in (long enough to round the corner) had me surrounded by scathing eyes. Even my sister (a plus size babe) felt lingering eyes on her as well. Don’t think I’m just trippin’!
Granted, anytime you walk up to an astronomically long line of millennial females from NYC, you’re walking through a sea of intimidation. Why should an event like this (made to empower women) have all this underlying hostility and competition? I’d say it has to do with the Instagram-worthiness of the event itself.
As girls brought their selfie game, personal photographers and extra ass tutus (yes, there were tutus), along came the same negative energy that Instagram naturally brings forth with its app. Imagine yourself surrounded by beat faces and high fashion aficionados to size you up, determining if you’re “cool enough” to even be there.
It’s hardly what you came (and PAID 40 Zzzollars) for and an ass-backwards way to get women to come together. In my experience with 29Rooms, even some of the 29Rooms bouncers allowing people through each room had side eye’d me and sis.
To some reading, you may think I’m simply paranoid. But when you’ve faced adversity for so long, you know it when you feel it. I can’t say I’d never attend again because I missed out on seeing more than half of the rooms.
Instead, I keep in mind that an event that invites hard core Instagrammers also invites the self-consciousness we all face scrolling through our IG timelines.