The number one piece of advice, when you want to be successful on social media, is to “niche down”!
Every streamer, every content creator, every influencer out there will tell you the same thing. And it is true. I’ve learned a lot about branding. About how to grow. About what the algorithm likes. It all makes sense on paper. People don’t want chaos, they want consistency. They don’t share all your interests—so when you start throwing everything out there, it gets messy. Confusing. You might lose a follow or two. Or ten.
But I’m done. I’m done trying to be brand-friendly instead of being me.
The Algorithm Wants Simplicity, But You’re Complicated
Let me take you back for a second.
I once followed this guy on Twitter (back when it was still called that, and I still used it.) because we shared a love for horror games. He posted great recommendations, cool screenshots, funny reactions, you get it. But he also, unapologetically, loved football. (The one you actually play with your foot. Don’t you dare call it soccer. 😡) And I don’t care for it at all. In fact, his football tweets were kind of annoying to me.
I know, I know, this sounds like a solid argument for niching down. But bear with me.
Here’s the thing: I scrolled past the football posts. That’s it. I didn’t unfollow him, because even if I didn’t care for that part of him, I liked other aspects of him. And who knows? Maybe one of those football posts would eventually have sparked a new interest for me. Unlikely, but if I fully close up for the idea, it is impossible in the first place. The point is, I didn’t need him to be one-dimensional. I could just accept the complexity.
We Are Our Own, Wild, Beautiful and Confusing Niches
And that’s what I’ve realized: we need to re-learn how to appreciate the complexity of humanity and value people and their passions even if we do not share them.
We’re not supposed to fit into one neat, marketable little box. I, for one, am a wildly eclectic person. I collect short-term obsessions like trinkets in a drawer, and I hold onto long-term passions like heirlooms. Yesterday I read up on communism in India, after watching a video on how speaking about objects can affect how we bond with others, and then I learned how to make pixel art carrots look nice. My interests are weird and wonderful and ever-changing. The only box they fit into is me.
And honestly, my Pinterest boards, my Spotify playlists, my Letterboxd reviews, they already reflect that. They show the full, chaotic beauty of what lights me up. Why shouldn’t all my platforms do the same?
When I recently got into pixel art. It lit me up in a way that only a new hyperfixation can. And my first instinct? “I should make a new Instagram account for this.” Another one. On top of my stream account, my old personal, my newer personal, my Sims account, and a few others I probably forgot the password to. Like, come on. Who has the time to manage five accounts, especially if you swap hobbies like outfits?
I’ve been slicing myself into pieces for the sake of fitting into platform expectations. I was separating out my personality so I wouldn’t confuse the algorithm or even other users. So I wouldn’t “lose the niche.” So I could “succeed.”
What If We Re-Define Success?
But what if success isn’t growing? What if success is being free?
Yes, I still know how branding works. I can still build a clean, consistent presence if I need to, for business, for collaboration, for work. But when it comes to my personal social media, I’m over it. I’m not trying to game the algorithm. I’m trying to be happy.
I want to post art one day, gaming stuff the next, a random thought about queerness or a rant about capitalism the day after that. I want to be me, in full color, not just the shades I think are most palatable.
You don’t need to build a brand. You are the brand.
And I’m not saying this as a marketing strategy. I’m saying it as a human being who’s exhausted from performing a curated version of themselves. Social media was never the enemy, monetization was. It turned our playground into a storefront. It pushed us to be products instead of people.
Remember when we used to post what we had for lunch just because we felt like it? Now we’re trying to sell people on what they should eat. Our bios are elevator pitches of our personalities. Our feeds are portfolios. We niche down so hard we disappear into ourselves.
So no, I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know if I’ll merge my accounts or not. I might keep both. I might delete one. I might wake up tomorrow and decide to turn one into a fanpage for frogs. Who knows? What I do know is that I’m done hiding parts of myself to stay algorithm-friendly.
I’m done niching down.
Thanks to Anna Howard for once again inspiring me with her Podcast “Wild Geese”.
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