How can I delete Facebook when it has all my memories and photographs?
There’s nothing wrong with showing real emotion but it’s the intention behind that sharing that’s the issue (Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

Last week while perusing Instagram I stopped on a video of Kendall Jenner.

The second-youngest of the Jenner/Kardashian dynasty was wearing a white t-shirt and not much make up, looking into the camera with an earnest expression on her face and clearly ready to share her feelings. Underneath her mother, Kris, had written ‘I’m so proud of my darling @KendallJenner for being so brave and vulnerable. Seeing you share your most raw story in order to make a positive impact for so many people and help foster a positive dialogue is a testament to the incredible woman you’ve become.

‘Make sure to watch Kendall’s Twitter on Sunday night to find out what I’m talking about and be prepared to be moved.’

Was Kendall perhaps going to share her own #MeToo story? Or maybe she was coming out? Perhaps she was going to share some home truths about her struggles with mental health.

No. She was launching a marketing campaign with skincare brand Proactiv.

Kendall Jenner sadfished us.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BsQx4BgF2GP/

Sadfishing is when someone uses their emotional problems to hook an audience on the internet.

There’s nothing wrong with talking about your problems online. In Kendall’s case acne, but let’s be realistic. Everything about how the Proactiv campaign was teased was designed to make people speculate about what Kendall’s big sadness might be.

It’s not just celebs who are doing this either. Us non-famous normies are guilty of doing the exact same thing.

You’ll have seen sadfishing happening on Facebook. Anytime someone puts ‘I’m just so done with all this’ as their Facebook status without any explanation and then replies to anyone who asks a follow question with ‘I’ll PM you’: that’s sadfishing.

If you’re a supermodel and influencer from the Hollywood Hills then sadfishing will make you money in #sponcon. If you’re a marketing manager from Stockon upon Tees then it’s not likely to make you cash, but will get your attention.

I’ve always maintained that there’s nothing wrong with attention seeking because there’s nothing wrong with wanting attention. But when we start to learn that being sad equates to being validated, aren’t we going down a difficult, dangerous path?

Of course you have every right to express your struggles on the internet, and it’s far better to do that than sit in miserable silence. But there is a difference between sharing genuine distress and sharing a glossy, highly filtered version of sadness. The former is important. The latter is a disturbing new tendency that it’s all too easy to fall into.

I must have been about 19 the first time that I tweeted about feeling miserable. It had been a bad day, my boyfriend was ignoring me and I was fed up. So I told the internet. And within minutes I had replies from people who cared. Or at least, pretended to care in order to get more details about what was going on. ‘Is it the boyfriend?’ people asked over DM. ‘What’s going on?’ And just like that, I was hooked. All of the glorious, indulgent reassurance of emotional support from friends, without having to spend time with any actual humans.

Sad content shares well. It’s relatable. Relatable means engaging, engaging means more followers, and more followers mean more attention.

Time and time again I see influencers and bloggers tweeting things like ‘Today is a hard day. What’s your best trick for taking care of yourself?’ to which comes an avalanche of support, interaction and new followers. Is that really about getting tips for self care? Or is it just an easy way to interact with sympathetic followers?

Another top trick is a beautiful but sad photo. Crying in black and white, or tastefully nude in the bath with the caption #SelfCare.

Filtered, lit and perfect, accompanied by a hashtag about mental health. Is that an amazing piece of honesty about the struggle to stay sane in the modern age? Or is it sadfishing?

As a nation, and perhaps as a species, we’re not good at celebrating other people. Talking about your achievements is considered to be showing off.

So if I post a grinning selfie talking about how happy I am and how great things are going, I’ll get a few likes and a couple of comments. But if I post something pretty where I’m crying and talking about how miserable I am, the internet will open their arms to me.

I’ll be called strong and brave, I’ll be told that I’m fighting the good fight for mental health awareness. And perhaps that’ll be true. But the message is loud and clear: being sad makes you popular. Being sad gets you attention. The internet loves you when you are sad.

Perhaps the right answer is to share your #sadcontent without the filter, to make it real rather than shareable. Maybe we should post the picture of our bright red, blotchy crying faces, not the ones with the perfect mascara trails highlighting our cheekbones.

No good has ever come from covering up mental illness or pretending to be fine. Not for a second would I want to return to a world where depression, mental illness or even just feeling sad is stigmatised.

But I can’t help wondering if in our attempts to normalise sadness, we might accidentally have incentivised it, and ended up making our lives a little bit worse.

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