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Introduction

In recent years, a curious trend has emerged among Generation Z social media users: an aversion to the traditional “selfie” and a turn toward faceless forms of online self-presentation. From teenagers strategically covering their faces with a hand in photos to young influencers opting for avatars, VTubers, or blurred images instead of revealing selfies, Gen Z is redefining what personal imagery means in the digital age (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic) (Guide: How to Start a “Faceless” Instagram Account for Your Small Business — Your Social Team). This report investigates how Gen Z’s selfie aversion – evidenced by hiding faces, avoiding frontal facial visibility, and embracing faceless or anonymous aesthetics online – reflects a deeper “imaginary crisis of subjectivity” in contemporary digital culture. In other words, why is the generation that grew up with front-facing cameras and Instagram filters now choosing to efface or obscure their own image? And what does this retreat from the selfie say about their sense of self?

This question is more than a quirk of youth fashion; it opens onto fundamental issues of identity, image, and society. The analysis in this report is grounded in cultural studies, psychoanalysis (Lacanian theory), media theory, and the sociology of technology. Throughout the report, we will draw on classic psychoanalytic concepts – Jacques Lacan’s notions of the Imaginary order, the Mirror Stage, the Gaze, the Symbolic order, and the elusive object a – to frame Gen Z’s behavior. We will also invoke Slavoj Žižek’s theories of ideology and subjectivity under late capitalism to understand how digital media practices can both shape and symptomize inner psychological states. These theoretical lenses will be applied in an accessible way to make sense of real-world cultural phenomena.

Empirical evidence and examples from across the globe inform our discussion. We incorporate quantitative data (such as surveys by Pew Research Center, academic studies, and industry reports) and qualitative insights (including interviews, social media discourse, and trend analyses). From North America and Europe to East Asia, Latin America, and the Middle East, we consider how differing cultural contexts might influence or reflect the faceless trend. For instance, Japanese youth have long favored anonymity with avatars over real names online (Japan’s Top Social Media Platforms for 2025 – 10th Edition – Humble Bunny), and Middle Eastern social media users often balance self-expression with cultural or safety concerns by selectively revealing identity. These global perspectives ensure that our investigation is not limited to a Western-centric view but recognizes a broad pattern in youth digital culture.

We frame the analysis around several key themes and sections:

• Context – How did we get here? We review the rise of selfie culture in the 2010s and the early critiques of it, then chart the signs of selfie fatigue and the shift toward anonymity among Gen Z.
• Theoretical Framing – An outline of Lacanian and Žižekian concepts relevant to subjectivity, identity images, and how the digital mirror might disrupt the formation of the self. This sets up a vocabulary for understanding the “imaginary crisis.”
• The Gaze and Surveillance – Exploration of how the pervasive gaze of cameras, peers, and algorithms creates a surveillance culture. We discuss the algorithmic gaze, social media performativity, and why being watched (or the anticipation of being watched) provokes anxiety that Gen Z manages by hiding the face (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox) (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic).
• Cultural Data and Digital Symptoms – Presentation of data and trends: e.g. rates of selfie posting among youth (which are lower than expected) (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center), phenomena like “Zoom dysmorphia” from constant video calls ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ), curated anonymity on Instagram (Guide: How to Start a “Faceless” Instagram Account for Your Small Business — Your Social Team), and digital burnout. We also incorporate discourse analysis from TikTok trends, Reddit threads, and youth forums where these behaviors are discussed.
• Parental Dynamics – How intergenerational media practices (like sharenting, where parents share children’s photos) contribute to Gen Z’s stance. We examine the backlash of youths against their parents’ oversharing and the desire to reclaim privacy and control over their digital legacy (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation) (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel).
• Psychoanalytic Interpretation – Delving deeper into Lacanian psychoanalysis, we interpret Gen Z’s selfie-shyness as a symptom of an imaginary-order disturbance. We ask: Is the Mirror Stage disrupted when the “mirror” is a smartphone camera? How does the refusal to identify with one’s selfie relate to Lacan’s notion of méconnaissance (misrecognition)? We also apply Žižek’s ideas about the destabilized subject and ideological pressures to enjoy/be visible.
• AI and Identity – The role of technology: face filters, beauty apps, deepfakes, and avatars. We analyze how algorithmic modifications of appearance and the rise of AI-generated personas (e.g. virtual influencers) make the very concept of a “true face” problematic. Gen Z’s comfort with virtual identities (like VTubers) speaks to new forms of subjectivity where the physical face is optional (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic) (Vtuber (virtual YouTuber) Market Size, Share, Value and Forecast 2032).
• New Rituals of Self-Representation – Beyond the selfie, what cultural forms are emerging? We explore post-selfie practices: VTubing, anonymous confession apps, faceless TikTok POV videos, photo dumps of scenery and objects, aesthetic moodboards on Instagram instead of personal photos, etc. These new rituals and formats provide creative outlets that do not center on one’s face, thus subverting the classic “camera-facing” mode of online identity.
• Conclusion – We conclude by summarizing how Gen Z’s faceless trend is both a critique of the previous era’s hyper-visual culture and a coping strategy for the pressures of digital life. We consider the implications for future social media design, mental health, and cultural norms, asking whether this trend represents a lasting realignment of subjectivity in the digital age or a transitional phase in youth culture.

Overall, this report aims to be academic yet accessible – balancing theory with real-world examples, and critical analysis with empathy for the very real concerns of Gen Z. It is written for a broad audience interested in digital culture: from scholars of media and psychology to parents, educators, and anyone curious about why the youngest generation online might be presenting “a face without a place.” The phenomenon of selfie aversion is a lens through which we can observe the evolving relationship between self, image, and society in an era where being seen everywhere, by everyone, all the time, can feel as much like a threat as an opportunity. The following sections will unpack these ideas in detail, supported by research and testimony from across the cultural spectrum.

From Selfie Boom to Selfie Backlash: Context and Emergence

To understand Gen Z’s retreat from the selfie, we must first consider the context: the selfie’s rise to ubiquity in the 2010s and the subsequent backlash or burnout that set the stage for change. The term “selfie” – indicating a self-taken photograph, usually with a smartphone – exploded into popular consciousness in the early 2010s. By 2013, “selfie” was crowned Oxford Dictionaries’ Word of the Year (More than half of Millennials have taken a selfie. Older generations do not know what selfie is), symbolizing how common the practice had become. Surveys at the time documented this boom: in 2014, Pew Research reported that 55% of Millennials (then in their 20s) had posted a selfie online, far outpacing older generations (More than half of Millennials have taken a selfie. Older generations do not know what selfie is). Early smartphone front cameras, the advent of Instagram (2010), and the cultural embrace of sharing personal images all contributed to a selfie culture defined by constant visual self-documentation.

However, even at the height of the selfie craze, there was awareness of its downsides. The same Pew survey noted that nine-in-ten Millennials agreed that people share too much information about themselves online (More than half of Millennials have taken a selfie. Older generations do not know what selfie is) – a hint of ambivalence behind the enthusiastic selfie-taking. Social critics began labeling the selfie generation as narcissistic, while others pointed out more structural issues: the pressure to always look good, the curation of a perfect online persona, and the mental health impact of tying self-worth to social media feedback. By the late 2010s, as Gen Z (born roughly 1997–2012) became teenagers, signs of a selfie backlash were visible. Rather than eagerly adopting the polished selfie aesthetic of their older siblings, many Gen Z teens showed skepticism or weariness toward it.

Quantitative data illustrates this shift. A Pew Research Center study on teens’ social media habits (2018) found that around half of teens rarely or never post selfies (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center) (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center). In fact, only 16% of teens said they post selfies “often,” and 45% said they never do – meaning a large portion of youth were opting out of the selfie practice as a regular activity (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center). This is striking in contrast to the earlier millennial behavior and contradicts the stereotype that “all young people are constantly taking selfies.” It suggests a generational inflection point where the selfie norm stopped being a given.

Why might Gen Z be less enthused about posting selfies? Several contextual factors emerged in the 2010s that likely fed into selfie aversion:

• Overexposure and Privacy Concerns: Gen Z grew up watching the pitfalls of oversharing. They saw examples of peers and public figures facing embarrassment or harassment over personal photos posted online. Many of them also had their childhood images shared by parents on Facebook or Instagram without consent (a phenomenon known as sharenting). By their teens, some of these “social media children” felt they already had too much of a digital footprint they didn’t control (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation) (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). This awareness made them more cautious about adding even more of themselves online. As one commentary noted, “those babies are now teens and young adults” and are questioning the digital legacy their parents created (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). In response, Gen Z tends to value privacy and ephemerality – they prefer Snapchat or Instagram stories (which disappear) over permanent posts, and smaller group chats over public feeds (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). The less you show your face publicly, the more you retain a sense of privacy or at least control over who sees you.
• Aesthetic Fatigue and Irony: By the late 2010s, the glossy, perfectionist aesthetic associated with Instagram influencers was falling out of favor with younger users. Gen Z internet culture moved toward a more chaotic, authentic, or ironically detached style. Instead of carefully staged selfies with perfect lighting and filters, teens began posting what some called “ugly selfies” or deliberately unserious images – if they posted selfies at all. A 2022 article observes that Gen Z on Instagram “outclassed the obsession with aesthetic perfection and curation, preferring a more truthful and authentic language” (Nobody cares about “perfect” Instagram feeds anymore). It cites the success of accounts that never show the photographer’s own face but rather candid snapshots of others and everyday life, offering a “much less flat” storytelling than traditional influencers (Nobody cares about “perfect” Instagram feeds anymore) (Nobody cares about “perfect” Instagram feeds anymore). In short, performative imperfection became cool. For many Gen Z, the highest currency was not looking like a polished celebrity but demonstrating relatability or humor – often by not centering their face. Selfies were sometimes seen as cringey or try-hard, unless done with a heavy dose of irony or distortion (for example, pulling a silly face, using a goofy filter, or mockingly imitating the “Facebook mom angle” as a joke (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox)).
• Peer Culture and Teasing: Within adolescent peer groups, self-consciousness runs high. Teens often fear judgment from one another, and a candid or unedited photo can become material for bullying or teasing. Gen Z, being extremely online and fluent in meme culture, know that any picture can be saved, shared, or turned into a joke. This contributes to behaviors like the “nose cover” pose – a trend where teens cover the middle of their face (often the nose) with a hand in photos (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel) (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). According to reports, Gen Z teens started doing this in family photos to avoid having an “embarrassing” facial expression captured; it’s a compromise to appease parents who want a picture while sabotaging the picture’s exploitability (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel) (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). As one source explains, covering their faces is a strategy to evade teasing online (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). The fact that a specific gesture – blocking the nose/face – caught on virally indicates a shared sentiment: exposure invites ridicule, so it’s safer to withhold one’s full image. The “nose cover” is both a literal and symbolic shield for one’s identity. It became so prevalent that even UK tabloids and parenting experts commented on it, noting it as “the way it is today” for teens establishing personal boundaries in a hyper-documented world (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel) (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel).
• Mental Health and Body Image Issues: Throughout the 2010s, concerns about social media’s impact on mental health grew, with particular focus on young people – especially teen girls – experiencing anxiety, depression, or body dysmorphia related to Instagram-perfect images. By the end of the decade and into the early 2020s, terms like “Instagram vs reality” and “Snapchat dysmorphia” entered public discourse. Gen Z has been described in studies as being more vulnerable to these pressures, but also more openly critical of them. For example, a Psychology Today analysis (and other mental health outlets) pointed out how constant exposure to filtered faces can create new insecurities (Social Media, Beauty Filters and the Rise of Insecurities in Gen Z) (A taxonomy of Gen Z selfie poses – Vox). Many youths became acutely aware that the images people post are heavily edited or filtered – and thus presenting one’s unfiltered face might invite negative comparison. Rather than compete in a beauty contest where everyone else seems perfected by filters, some teens choose to opt out of showing their face at all. This is not to say Gen Z uniformly lacks confidence (indeed, many boldly champion body-positivity and no-makeup looks), but the rules of the game for online appearance felt increasingly stressful. The rise of “photo dump” posts (sharing a carousel of random candid pics where one’s face may appear only in a blurry or secondary way) reflects an effort to de-emphasize the single posed image and instead share moments or moods. It’s a different narrative: “here’s what I’m experiencing” rather than “here’s how I look.”
• New Social Media Platforms and Practices: Gen Z’s social media repertoire expanded beyond the Facebook/Instagram paradigm of one’s real name and face. They embraced platforms like TikTok, where performance (dance, comedy, storytelling) can matter more than appearance, and Discord or Tumblr, where pseudonyms and avatars are common (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). On TikTok, while many users do show their faces, there is also a notable presence of creators who film from the neck down, show only a hand doing something, or overlay text on clips without a personal image. The visual language of Gen Z’s internet is rich with symbols that aren’t just their face – from anime profile pictures to Bitmojis to aesthetic collages. This diversified media environment made the traditional selfie just one option among many, and arguably, an uncool or risky one compared to fleeting Snaps, inside-joke memes, or stylized art. For instance, an early trend on TikTok was teens making fun of old Instagram selfie styles by exaggerating them (the overly posed duck face or the “Facebook mom angle” taken from above) (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox). Such self-referential humor signaled a departure: it’s as if Gen Z collectively said, “We’re not doing selfies the way Millennials did; that era is over.”

In summary, the context for Gen Z’s selfie aversion is a cultural moment where the costs of visibility have become as evident as the benefits. Having a face online means to be subject to the gaze of others (peers, parents, strangers, algorithms) in ways that can be uncomfortable. At the same time, alternative modes of expression have flourished that allow young people to connect and communicate without constantly showing their face. The stage was set for what we term an “imaginary crisis of subjectivity” – essentially, a disturbance in how young subjects imagine and present themselves – precipitated by the unique pressures of digital life.

Before diving deeper into what this crisis entails, we will establish the theoretical framework. Key psychoanalytic concepts will help illuminate why the face, in particular, is such a charged site of identity, and thus why hiding the face can be both personally protective and symbolically significant. Likewise, understanding Žižek’s critique of late-capitalist ideology can shed light on how the imperative to self-brand and self-disclose might produce its own rebellion. Through theory, we can better articulate the undercurrents of Gen Z’s faceless trend beyond the surface-level observations.

Theoretical Framework: Lacan, Žižek, and the Digital Subject

To analyze Gen Z’s selfie aversion as an imaginary crisis of subjectivity, we turn to theory – notably, the psychoanalytic framework of Jacques Lacan and the cultural critique of Slavoj Žižek. These theories, while abstract, offer powerful lenses for understanding identity formation and its discontents in the age of social media. In this section, we will outline the relevant concepts in clear terms and link them to our topic. The goal is to equip the reader with a set of ideas – the Imaginary, Mirror Stage, the Gaze, the Symbolic order, object a, and Žižek’s ideology critique – that we will apply in later analysis.

Lacan’s Imaginary, Mirror Stage, and the Constitution of Identity: Lacan, a French psychoanalyst, proposed that human identity is fundamentally shaped through what he called the Mirror Stage. In the Mirror Stage (which typically occurs in infancy around 6–18 months), a child first identifies with an external image – usually their reflection in a mirror or the image of their body as seen by others. The infant, who experiences their own body as uncoordinated fragments, suddenly sees a coherent image in the mirror and jubilantly identifies with it. This identification gives birth to the ego (the “I”), but it is based on an illusion or misrecognition (méconnaissance). The mirror image is an idealized whole self that the child aspires to, but it’s external and not fully real – it belongs to what Lacan calls the Imaginary order, the realm of images and imagined wholeness (The Imaginary, Social Media, and Lacan’s”The Mirror Stage” | by Aayush Aaryan | Medium) (The Imaginary, Social Media, and Lacan’s”The Mirror Stage” | by Aayush Aaryan | Medium).

From this perspective, every subsequent act of self-imaging (including taking selfies) can be seen as a reiteration of the Mirror Stage: we form a sense of self by looking at our own image (or images of others we emulate), crafting an identity through reflection. Social media platforms have become “powerful mirrors” in this sense, offering continuous reflections of ourselves via photos, videos, and feedback (The Imaginary, Social Media, and Lacan’s”The Mirror Stage” | by Aayush Aaryan | Medium). As one commentator put it, on these platforms the influencers become the object in today’s digital age, influencing how an individual perceives and projects his or her identity (The Imaginary, Social Media, and Lacan’s”The Mirror Stage” | by Aayush Aaryan | Medium). We are constantly presented with not only our own curated images but also those of peers and celebrities, which serve as alternative mirrors or models.

However, Lacan reminds us that identification with an image is always somewhat alienating – the image is a static, fixed form, whereas the true self is fragmented and dynamic. The Imaginary lures us with completeness but is ultimately an endless play of reflections, a “mirage” of identity. One can say that the selfie era intensified the Imaginary: everyone constructing ideal images of themselves, chasing “likes” which affirm the ego. But an over-reliance on the Imaginary can lead to crisis, because the more one invests in the image, the more one might feel the gap between the image and one’s lived experience. For example, a teenager might create a beautiful selfie after 20 retakes and filters, but not feel beautiful in reality; the image becomes an object of both desire and alienation. Lacanian theory would suggest that if Gen Z senses this trap, they might withdraw from the image-making practice as a defense – essentially saying, “I refuse to misrecognize myself in a fake perfect image; I prefer to show nothing or something abstract instead.”

The Gaze: Another Lacanian concept crucial here is the Gaze (le regard). In Lacan’s framework (especially as discussed in Seminar XI: The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis), the Gaze is not merely the act of looking, but an objectifying look that comes from the outside world and makes the subject aware of being an object. It’s tied to the idea that when we are looked at, we are fundamentally seen as something – pinned down in the field of the Other’s vision. This can be unsettling or anxiety-provoking. On social media, the imagined audience is the locus of the Gaze. When you post a selfie, you invite the gaze of hundreds or thousands of viewers (friends or strangers), and you can’t control how they see you. The common experience of obsessing over how others will interpret a photo (“Do I look weird? Will they think I’m attractive? Will I get enough likes?”) is essentially the psyche grappling with the (often intolerable) gaze of the Other (The selfie and the intolerable gaze of the Other – ResearchGate).

A Lacanian scholar, Dmitry Olshansky, described the selfie as facing “the intolerable gaze of the Other,” meaning the selfie-taker confronts the fact that once their image is out there, it is subject to others’ judgments and desires (The selfie and the intolerable gaze of the Other – ResearchGate). This is inherently anxiety-inducing, especially for youth who are still forming their identities. Some Gen Z have effectively said: if the gaze is intolerable, remove the target. By not posting a face, or by hiding behind a hand or an emoji, they evade the full force of the Other’s gaze. A teen who covers her face in a group photo might be doing so unconsciously to reduce the anxiety of being seen fully by unknown viewers or even by her own future self.

Additionally, Lacan talks about the gaze as an object a (object petit a – more on this soon) that can trap the subject. In simpler terms, images have a way of “staring back” at us beyond our control. Think of scrolling through Instagram: not only do you see others, but you are subtly aware that others can see you, and even the platform itself (the algorithm) is “watching” engagement. This ubiquitous environment of inter-gazing leads to self-policing: we adjust our behavior because we feel watched. Žižek has noted in modern life this often leads to a state where we act as if an invisible observer is always present – a bit like an internalized Big Brother or the panopticon effect.

Symbolic Order vs. Imaginary: Lacan divides human experience into three registers: the Imaginary (images, identifications), the Symbolic (language, social rules, the big Other), and the Real (that which is outside symbolization, raw existence). The Symbolic order in social media context refers to the norms and structures: the profiles, the naming systems, the data archives, the rules of what is allowed, and the metrics (followers, likes) which assign social value. If the Imaginary is “who I imagine I am (or how I appear) online,” the Symbolic is “how the system categorizes and uses my presence.” One could say there’s a tension: the platforms encourage playful Imaginary indulgence (fun filters, glam shots), but they also fix your identity in Symbolic ways (your face becomes data, a tagged entity; your posts become a permanent record).

Žižek often speaks about a symbolic deadlock or the decline of symbolic efficiency in late capitalism – where the old reliable meanings and identities (like a stable sense of self) break down, leaving people more reliant on Imaginary spectacles or desperate assertions of identity. We might interpret Gen Z’s behavior as a response to a Symbolic deadlock: they don’t trust the established social media “game” of personal branding (a very Symbolic ego project), finding it hollow or even harmful. Instead, they might retreat into ephemeral or anonymous realms which reject those Symbolic impositions (like real name policies or accumulating clout via selfies). The Atlantic noted that many young people feel “there just isn’t any good reason to use your real name anymore” online (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). Behind that is a rejection of the Symbolic expectation that one must have a fixed public identity on the internet. Gen Z’s instinct is to subvert that by using pseudonyms, multiple accounts (finstas), or simply lurking rather than broadcasting.

Objet Petit a (Object a): This concept in Lacanian theory refers to the unattainable object-cause of desire – a mysterious element that is lost when we enter the symbolic order, yet we seek it in various forms (like the gaze, the voice, etc., can function as object a). In the context of selfies and subjectivity, we can think of the face as a candidate for object a. The face can be extraordinarily charged: it is the seat of expression, what we usually consider “ourselves,” yet we never actually see our own face directly – only through mirrors or photos. It is both us and not-us. Covering the face can thus be a way to retain the mystery, to hold onto the object a (the part of ourselves that we don’t give away). Some Gen Z creators might find that by not showing their face, they keep an aura or an X-factor that sustains interest. For example, many popular meme pages or YouTubers remain faceless, which ironically often increases audience curiosity (“What do they look like?” becomes a point of intrigue). The faceless persona can become an object of desire for viewers precisely due to that gap – Slavoj Žižek might say this absence stimulates the imaginative desire of the audience, similar to how in horror movies the unseen monster is more frightening or how censored images make us more curious about what is hidden.

From the subject’s perspective, withholding one’s face might also be a way of asserting that “I am not reducible to an image.” In Lacanian terms, it’s a refusal to fully identify with the Imaginary projection, a keeping of one’s barred subjectivity (the inner self that is never fully revealed). There’s a line in a commentary on selfies that the body or face becomes a “duck face” but also must be the body of the barred subject – indicating that even as we play with images, something of the authentic, divided subject remains behind the scenes (GUEST BLOG POST: The Narcissistic Selfie – Capture Photography Festival) (GUEST BLOG POST: The Narcissistic Selfie – Capture Photography Festival). Gen Z’s faceless trend can be read as an insistence on remaining a barred subject rather than a fully knowable profile.

Žižek’s Take on Ideology and Subjectivity: Slavoj Žižek, drawing on Lacan, often discusses how ideology shapes our unconscious actions. One relevant idea is that contemporary ideology doesn’t operate only by telling us what to do, but by shaping what we think is cool or self-chosen. For instance, the push to constantly promote oneself and accumulate a “personal brand” on social media can be seen as an ideological mandate of neoliberal culture – it’s the economization of the self. By saying “the personal brand is dead, anonymity is in” (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic) (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic), many Gen Z are in effect performing an ideological critique (whether they frame it that way or not). They are rejecting the imperative to treat oneself as a commodity (a branded face). Žižek might argue that this itself can become a new ideology – the ideology of anonymity or of authenticity – but it’s at least a dialectical shift.

Žižek also speaks about how in late capitalism, subjects experience a kind of overload of freedom and enjoyment (“You must enjoy!” as the superego command). Social media offered an intoxicating freedom to express and enjoy any aspect of life, but this freedom can become tyrannical (we feel guilty or anxious if we’re not “living our best life” online). So the refusal to participate (e.g., not posting selfies, retreating to closed groups) could be seen as a form of symbolic escape – analogous to Bartleby’s “I would prefer not to.” It’s a way of resolving what Žižek might call a symbolic deadlock: the pressure to be an ideal self online becomes so contradictory (you must be real and perfect, transparent and popular) that the only way out is to drop the role entirely.

In summary, our theoretical toolkit suggests the following interpretation of the “imaginary crisis of subjectivity” in Gen Z:

• Mirror Stage disrupted: The smartphone mirror (selfie camera) that was supposed to empower identity has instead created misrecognitions and discomfort. Some youths reject the mirror’s version of themselves by avoiding it, indicating a crisis in Imaginary identification.
• Imaginary vs Real Self gap: There is a heightened awareness of the gap between curated images and real feelings, leading to distrust of images. The crisis is “imaginary” in that it’s about images, but it affects “subjectivity” – the sense of a stable self.
• Gaze Anxiety: Being seen by others (or by the data-collecting algorithmic Other) is experienced as invasive. The response – hide the face – is a defense against the intrusive Gaze.
• Symbolic Revolt: Not showing one’s face, or using pseudonyms, is a way to refuse the social symbolic demand to package oneself. It’s a rebellion against the expectation to be a constant public performer of identity.
• Object a and Desire: By keeping their faces to themselves, Gen Zers might be holding onto a sense of mystery or autonomy – keeping the most personal aspect (their look, their gaze) away from the commodifying circuits of social media. In psychoanalytic terms, they retain the object a (the secret of their subjectivity) rather than give it away via endless selfies.

Having established this framework, we can now more richly analyze the concrete aspects of Gen Z’s selfie aversion. Next, we examine the role of the gaze and surveillance in digital life, which is a crucial environmental factor for this generational trend.

Under the Gaze: Surveillance, Performativity, and the Algorithmic Eye

One cannot fully grasp Gen Z’s reluctance to show their faces online without understanding the surveillance-saturated environment in which they have grown up. The term “surveillance” here is not limited to government monitoring or CCTV – it also encompasses the pervasive social surveillance and self-surveillance that define digital culture. Every time a young person opens Instagram or TikTok, they are entering an arena of watchers and the watched. Sociologists often liken this to a panopticon, where individuals behave differently because they feel they might be observed at any moment. For Gen Z, the perception of an ever-present audience – peers, parents, potential employers, anonymous strangers, and even algorithms tracking their behavior – creates a heightened self-consciousness. In this section, we delve into how this culture of surveillance and constant observation (what we might provocatively call the algorithmic gaze) impacts youth subjectivity and encourages faceless forms of engagement as a coping strategy.

Social Media as Panopticon: The idea that social media replicates a panopticon (an architectural concept by Jeremy Bentham, later used by Michel Foucault to describe disciplinary society) is widely discussed in media studies. On platforms like Facebook (which Gen Z mostly eschews now) and Instagram, one’s actions – likes, comments, posts – are all potentially visible to one’s network. The “imagined audience” is a concept from communications scholarship describing how users imagine who is viewing their content and tailor their self-presentation accordingly (Surrealism & social media : r/zizek – Reddit). For Gen Z, this imagined audience can be vast and fragmented: it might include close friends (who get the jokes), classmates (who might judge popularity), family members (who look for propriety), and complete strangers (if the profile is public or content is reshared). Managing this audience is stressful, and one way to manage is to limit what is on display – e.g. by not showing one’s face (which is central to personal recognition and often the trigger for many judgments, from attractiveness to ethnicity to mood).

The algorithmic component intensifies this. When a photo with one’s face is posted, it’s not just followers who might see it – algorithms might decide to push it to Explore pages, or use the facial data for AI training (like how some have feared their images being used in facial recognition databases or deepfake generation). Many Gen Z users are tech-savvy and aware of these issues. For example, during the 2020 protests (like BLM), young activists disseminated tools for blurring protesters’ faces in photos posted online, to avoid facial recognition by authorities (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). This shows an acute understanding that the digital gaze can also be a state or corporate gaze. Even in everyday life, some teens cover laptop webcams or are uneasy about biometric technologies – it’s part of a general skepticism about being too visible.

Sharenting and Parental Gaze: An often underappreciated form of surveillance on young people is that of parents and family. As discussed in the context section, Gen Z were the first generation to frequently have their childhood documented on social media by parents. This means that long before they consented to an online presence, photos of them (sometimes embarrassing ones) were circulating. By their teenage years, many of these youths understandably feel a need to erect boundaries. The “nose-cover” trend in family photos is a direct example: it’s a subtle resistance to the parental camera (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel) (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). Parenting experts noted that through such gestures, teens maintain autonomy over their image while still letting parents have a photo (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). On platforms, some teens enforce rules with their parents like “don’t post that picture without asking me.” The rise of the anti-sharenting movement (with slogans like “Quit Clicking Kids” or proposed laws to give children veto power over posts) is fueled by Gen Z’s pushback (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation) (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). This is relevant to our topic because it demonstrates Gen Z’s desire to withdraw from unwanted surveillance, even by loving eyes. They crave a privacy that older generations didn’t have to fight for in youth, because their childhood moments weren’t broadcast to hundreds of followers (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). By controlling their face (or not showing it at all), they reclaim some privacy.

Performativity and the Pressure to Brand the Self: Surveillance isn’t just an external threat; it has been internalized as performativity. Everyone is performing to some degree on social media – curating an impression. Erving Goffman’s classic notion of life as a series of performances (front stage vs back stage) rings especially true online, where each profile is like a little stage. For Gen Z, who often maintain multiple personas (a formal public profile, a casual “finsta” for close friends, maybe an anonymous Twitter under a pseudonym, etc.), the fragmentation of self can be intense. The algorithmic gaze adds to this by actively rewarding certain performances. For instance, Instagram’s algorithms historically rewarded faces – studies found that posts with human faces got more engagement on average. If one is chasing likes, one learns to put one’s face (especially an attractive, smiling version of it) forward. Yet Gen Z saw how suffocating this was: it created what has been dubbed “Instagram face” – a homogeneous look (smooth skin, pouty lips, etc.) that many strove for via filters or even cosmetic procedures. Tired of this, Gen Z spearheaded a countermovement favoring goofy, unfiltered snaps and even alternative photo platforms (like the app BeReal, which nudges users to post unedited photos once a day). Their embrace of blurry photos and cringe memes over glossy selfies is a direct refutation of performative perfection (Nobody cares about “perfect” Instagram feeds anymore).

However, even posting an “ugly” or faceless photo is a performance of not-performing, so to speak. They still know someone’s watching, but the performance is calibrated to say “I don’t care about your gaze” – which is interestingly still in reference to the gaze. Žižek might call this a form of over-identification or irony as resistance. By exaggerating a lack of concern (posting a messy photo dump with no face), they signal a stance to observers: “I refuse to be your object.” The hope is that by doing so, the power of the gaze is nullified – if I’ve shown you nothing personal or I’ve shown you something deliberately banal, you have nothing to latch onto to judge me.

The Algorithmic Gaze: Let’s unpack this idea. Beyond human onlookers, Gen Z know that algorithms determine visibility. On TikTok, for example, the mysterious “For You Page” algorithm decides which videos blow up. There have been revelations that early TikTok moderators were instructed to suppress content that wasn’t aesthetically pleasing (users deemed “ugly” or “poor”) to attract new users with an aspirational feed – an algorithmic gaze literally discriminating on looks. Although TikTok claims such practices have changed, the lesson to users is clear: the system may treat your face and appearance as data points to rank you. On the other hand, if you don’t show your face, you might bypass some of these judgments. Many VTubers and avatar-using creators find freedom in the fact that the algorithm (and audience) focuses on their content of speech or gameplay, rather than looks.

Algorithms also amplify the consequences of any photo: an embarrassing picture might only be seen by a small group in the pre-social media era, but now it can be screenshot, reposted, and spread to a global audience in seconds if it goes viral. Teens often reference this with the hyperbolic fear “imagine this ends up on the internet forever.” This feeds self-censorship: better to not post a face at all than risk an awkward expression becoming a meme. A snippet from PetaPixel on the nose-cover trend underscores that teens are extremely online now and seek out embarrassing photos of each other to mock (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). The algorithmic environment allows that mocking to scale up (a private snap can become a trending tweet). The result is a chilling effect on sharing personal images.

Surveillance and Cultural Psychology: Culturally, growing up post-9/11 and in the era of big data leaks, Gen Z is arguably the most surveillance-aware generation. They know about spyware, they joke about the “FBI agent in my phone watching me through the camera,” they toggle privacy settings expertly. This awareness shapes their psychological development. When a person knows they might be watched, they either conform to expected behavior or find ways to hide. We see both happening: some youth double down on creating a meticulous online persona (conformity to social expectations, perhaps causing stress), while others hide (either by not posting or using anonymity). A crisis of subjectivity emerges when neither option feels authentic or safe: you don’t want to be fake, but you also don’t want to be exposed. That double bind contributes to anxiety and possibly a sense of depersonalization – feeling like one’s real self is somewhere else, offline, and the online self is just a puppet. Some Gen Z individuals explicitly separate the two: e.g., “that Instagram doesn’t show the real me.” This can be healthy boundary-making, but it can also indicate a fragmented sense of identity where the integration of online/offline selves is problematic.

The “Big Other” of Data: Lacan’s concept of the big Other (the symbolic authority or network that knows) can be paralleled with the data economy. The knowledge that tech companies and unknown entities have archived one’s images and information adds a layer of symbolic surveillance. Even if no person is currently looking at my 5-year-old selfie, I know Facebook or iCloud has it stored. This creates an uncanny feeling of never being fully able to erase parts of oneself that were once online. Many Gen Z have responded by heavily curating or deleting past posts (a phenomenon known as “Instagram cleanse” – wiping all old photos). Others maintain multiple accounts for different sides of themselves. The extreme end is what The Atlantic described: a retreat to smaller internet spaces and secret-sharing apps, a renaissance of pseudonymous platforms like Tumblr, and using Discord servers where one can be one among a group without a personal profile on display (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). These are attempts to escape the big Other’s panoptic gaze.

Case in point – Anonymity as Comfort: A spokesperson for Tumblr noted that the majority of new Tumblr users are Gen Z, and they rarely use their full names on the platform (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). Tumblr (and newer apps like Gas or GeneZ) provide semi-anonymous environments that appeal to those exhausted by Instagram’s real-name, real-face culture. The success of apps like Discord (150 million users, known for anonymous chat culture) and Chill Pill (a group-therapy app for young people that forbids sharing personal identifying info) testifies that being unseen can be experienced as liberating rather than isolating (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). In these spaces, Gen Z can express feelings, humor, or creativity without the weight of surveillance. One teen quoted in The Atlantic said, “Now the cooler thing to be is a mystery. Anonymity is in.” (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). The word “mystery” is telling – it implies value in not being fully seen or known. This flips the script on earlier social media logic which assumed that being highly visible and recognized (even micro-famous) was desirable.

Surveillance Fears in Non-Western Contexts: For completeness, consider that in some regions, showing one’s face online can have distinct risks: In certain Middle Eastern or conservative societies, a young woman might avoid posting her face to steer clear of unwanted male attention or moral judgment; in China, activists or LGBT youth often remain faceless online to discuss sensitive topics under pseudonyms due to state monitoring. Gen Z around the world have their own localized reasons to be cautious. Latin American youths facing high crime rates might fear kidnapping or stalking if they overshare personal visuals. Thus, going faceless is sometimes a safety measure in a very literal sense, not just a psychological comfort. All these contribute to a global pattern where facelessness equals protection – whether protection of one’s physical safety, reputation, or inner self.

In conclusion, the gaze and surveillance aspect of digital life has a profound influence on Gen Z’s social media behavior. Under constant observation (real or perceived), one adaptive response is to reduce the observable self. The fewer personal identifiers you put out (like your face), the less vulnerable you feel. This protective mechanism, while completely understandable, also dovetails with our notion of an imaginary crisis. If the Imaginary (image-based identity) becomes too threatening, the subject withdraws from it. Gen Z’s face-hiding can be seen as a collective withdrawal from an Imaginary that has been weaponized by the gaze. Instead, they find refuge in anonymity or playful ambiguity.

Having examined the gaze and surveillance factors, we will now look at concrete cultural data and trends that illustrate these dynamics. How exactly are Gen Z behaving online, and what data do we have on their attitudes? The next section will compile findings from surveys, psychological studies, and the social media platforms themselves to ground our discussion in evidence.

Cultural Data and Digital Symptoms: What the Numbers and Narratives Show

The phenomena we’re discussing – selfie decline, faceless profiles, digital fatigue – are not just anecdotal. Researchers and pollsters have been tracking Gen Z’s digital habits, and the data offers clear signals of a shift. In this section, we gather quantitative data (surveys, statistics) and qualitative evidence (observations from interviews, trend analyses, and forums) to paint a comprehensive picture of Gen Z’s relationship with online self-presentation. We also look at specific symptoms or manifestations of this relationship: things like selfie fatigue, Zoom dysmorphia, curated anonymity, and digital burnout. These terms have surfaced in both academic literature and popular discourse, reflecting the vocabulary Gen Z and those studying them use to describe the current moment.

Selfie Posting Rates and Gender Differences: As mentioned earlier, Pew Research Center found in 2018 that about 45% of teens (13–17) said they ever post selfies (often or sometimes), which means more than half do so rarely or never (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center). This already indicates that the “selfie generation” tag is a bit misplaced when it comes to Gen Z. The breakdown by gender is telling: 60% of teen girls said they at least sometimes post selfies, compared to only 30% of teen boys (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center). This suggests that the pressure to share self-images is heavier on girls, which aligns with known societal pressures regarding appearance. It might also imply that the retreat from selfies could be more pronounced among boys or gender-nonconforming youth, whereas girls may feel they have to participate to some extent. Still, even among girls, 40% do not regularly post selfies (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center), showing that a significant cohort is opting out. If we consider older data: in 2015, a study noted 91% of teens had posted a photo of themselves online at some point (not necessarily regularly) (The Psychology of Selfies – Middle Earth) – we might infer that one-time posting is common but habitual posting is less so. The practice of the weekly or daily selfie post (common among influencers) is not the norm for the average Gen Z teen.

Rise of Anonymous or Faceless Accounts: We have multiple indicators that many young users prefer anonymity. A social media marketing guide notes that faceless Instagram accounts “exploded in popularity thanks largely to Gen Z’s desire for more privacy and anonymity online” (Guide: How to Start a “Faceless” Instagram Account for Your Small Business — Your Social Team). These accounts allow creators to build an aesthetic or persona detached from their real-world identity, removing pressure around physical appearance (Guide: How to Start a “Faceless” Instagram Account for Your Small Business — Your Social Team). Another stark statistic comes from Japan (which can be seen as a bellwether for digital trends): 45% of social media users in Japan prefer to be anonymous on social media, “reluctant to do this under their own real name” (Japan’s Top Social Media Platforms for 2025 – 10th Edition – Humble Bunny). While that stat is for all ages, the context suggests it’s heavily influenced by younger users, and it highlights a cultural preference that is resonating with Gen Z elsewhere too. Even in the U.S., where Facebook’s real-name policy once dominated social networking, we see the pendulum swing: Tumblr, Discord, TikTok (to an extent, since it doesn’t force real names) and various meme platforms allow aliases. A Reddit thread titled “The personal brand is dead. Gen Z would rather be anonymous online.” referenced an Atlantic article making exactly that case (ben barokas on X: “Gen Z would rather be anonymous online. It’s the …). The Atlantic piece by Kaitlyn Tiffany in 2022 documented how young people were flocking to spaces where they could be nameless or mysterious (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic) (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). It cited the resurgence of interest in Tumblr and the emergence of apps like Signal (for private communication) during protests as evidence of a generational shift toward privacy (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic).

On TikTok and Twitter, one trend noted is the use of profile pictures that are not the user’s face (perhaps a cartoon, K-pop star, or completely abstract image). Scanning TikTok’s comment sections or user profiles often reveals avatars or blank icons rather than actual photos of the users. A TikTok search for “hiding face selfie” trends yields countless creative ideas for covering one’s face, indicating millions of views on such content (Hiding Face Selfie | TikTok) (Cover Up Face in Selfie – TikTok). This shows a demand among youth for methods to participate visually without full face exposure. Whether through posing tips (hiding behind objects, hair, hands) or using editing (emojis and stickers placed over the face), there’s a mini-economy of tricks to be present in the feed but not identifiable.

Selfie Fatigue: The term “selfie fatigue” casually refers to people getting tired of taking or seeing selfies. While it’s hard to measure fatigue directly, some indicators include the decline in the use of the word “selfie” and anecdotal reports of young people rolling their eyes at too many selfies on their feeds. A few years back (around 2015–2016), think pieces even in mainstream media talked about “the death of the selfie” or questioned whether the selfie obsession had peaked (Study Says Selfies Are Wearing Out Their Welcome – GovTech). For instance, GovTech covered a study suggesting selfies were “wearing out their welcome” (Study Says Selfies Are Wearing Out Their Welcome – GovTech). And indeed, by the time Gen Z came of age, selfies were no longer novel; they were work. The labour of maintaining a selfie-ready appearance (makeup, filters, etc.) can lead to burnout. A lightly humorous but telling example: science educator Bill Nye once joked about having “selfie fatigue” from constantly being asked for selfies, quipping “I’m pretty sure it shortens your life” (Bill Nye Reveals the Dangers of ‘Selfie Fatigue’ in ‘Bill Nye – IMDb). While that’s tongue-in-cheek, for regular teens the fatigue might come from seeing the same poses and pouts incessantly, or feeling like there’s nothing new in it. In a world of overabundance of images, not producing another selfie can feel like a relief.

Zoom Dysmorphia and the Reflection Crisis: One of the clearest “symptoms” connecting self-image and technology is Zoom dysmorphia. As remote learning and virtual meetings became common (especially during the COVID-19 pandemic), doctors noticed a surge in people (even teens) seeking cosmetic procedures because they were unhappy with their appearance on camera ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ) ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ). The term “Zoom dysmorphia” was coined to describe this phenomenon of excessive self-critique triggered by seeing one’s face in videoconference windows. A survey of dermatologists found that 82.7% of providers reported patients became more dissatisfied with their looks after switching to video calls, and a majority of requests for cosmetic tweaks (like nose jobs or Botox) were linked to how patients saw themselves on Zoom ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ). This is a striking statistic because it shows how a technological mirror (webcam) can distort our self-perception – literally causing a form of body dysmorphic disorder in some cases. Dr. Shadi Kourosh, a Harvard dermatologist, pointed out that cameras can provide a “distorted mirror” – depending on angle and lens, our nose might look bigger, etc., leading to false self-judgments ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ). Gen Z students forced into online classes voiced similar issues, often preferring to turn off their cameras to avoid staring at themselves. Now, link this to the broader Gen Z trend: if a teen experiences Zoom dysmorphia, they learn that seeing their own face too much is psychologically painful. They might generalize that discomfort to other arenas – e.g., avoiding selfies or not wanting to appear on video stories. It’s a feedback loop: the more one scrutinizes one’s image, the more flaws one finds, and possibly the more one wants to withdraw from being imaged. Professionals recommended steps like using ring lights or hiding the self-view window ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ), but an easier “fix” for a teen is to simply avoid putting their face on display when not necessary. We can view the face-hiding on social media as a pre-emptive strike against dysmorphia: if I don’t post my face, I won’t obsess over it or hear negative comments about it.

Digital Burnout and Mental Health Data: Gen Z reports high levels of mental health struggles, and some tie this to social media. In a 2022 study, nearly half of US teens (46%) said they are online “almost constantly” (Nearly half of US teens are online ‘constantly,’ Pew report finds) (Nearly half of U.S. teens say they’re online ‘almost constantly’), and about the same proportion say social media use makes them feel worse (stressed, anxious, depressed) at times (Why 3 in 4 Gen Zers blame social media for their mental health decline) (Why 3 in 4 Gen Zers blame social media for their mental health decline). Specifically, 49% of Gen Z in one survey reported social media leaves them feeling negative emotions, with 30% citing stress/anxiety as a top feeling after scrolling (Why 3 in 4 Gen Zers blame social media for their mental health decline). This constant connectivity contributes to “digital burnout” – a state of exhaustion with the notifications, the content overload, the pressure to respond. When burned out, some teens take “social media breaks” or delete apps. Often, what overwhelms them is the social comparison and performance aspect. Reducing that pressure by being faceless or anonymous can alleviate some of the performative exhaustion. If no one knows who you are, you can post at your own pace, or not at all, without fearing you’ll lose social capital.

Curated Anonymity and Finstas: The phrase “curated anonymity” might sound paradoxical, but it captures a style of participation where one carefully controls what personal info is revealed while still engaging regularly. Many Gen Z maintain so-called finstas (fake Instagram accounts, usually private, under a nickname) for a smaller circle. On these accounts, they might actually feel freer to show their “real” self (messy, unfiltered, emotional) because the audience is trusted. Meanwhile, the main “rinsta” (real insta) may be sparse or highly managed – or in some cases, practically empty except for a profile pic. Some teens even create aesthetic theme pages or join anonymous confession boards as their primary mode of social media, foregoing a traditional personal feed. This is a strategy: it lets them enjoy social media and creative expression without the personal risk. A social media professional observed that faceless profiles “remove pressure around physical appearance and offer creators more autonomy” (Guide: How to Start a “Faceless” Instagram Account for Your Small Business — Your Social Team). We should note that curation is still happening – these Gen Z users are often very savvy in designing an aesthetic or persona, just one not tied to their legal identity or physical looks. For example, a teen might run a TikTok about art or sports under a pseudonym, showing just their craft or commentary, not their face. They curate content but keep themselves out of it. This is different from past norms where one’s online identity was expected to match one’s offline identity for “authenticity.” Gen Z defines authenticity differently: it might mean authentically sharing one’s thoughts or humor, not necessarily one’s face or real name.

Discourse from Forums and Youth Voices: On platforms like Reddit, one can find threads where youths discuss why they dislike posting pictures of themselves. Common themes include: “I don’t like how I look”, “I’m scared of being judged”, “It’s cringe to try to look good for the internet”, “I prefer my privacy”. On TikTok, if someone posts a video covering their face, comments often are supportive or say things like “mood” or “same” – indicating relatability. The community has, to an extent, normalized the option to not show face. This is important because a few years back, someone not showing their face might be pressured (“reveal when?” or teased as catfish). Now, especially on newer platforms, anonymity is respected as a valid choice, sometimes even seen as creative or edgy. The Atlantic article noted that hyper-niche meme accounts run anonymously were seen as the “coolest, most exciting follows” on Instagram in the eyes of young people (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). That marks a cultural valorization of the hidden creator, a reversal from the influencer era where name and fame were king. One could think of this as a revival of older internet norms (early forums, fandom circles) where handles mattered more than real identities – a kind of new romanticism of the internet where being an enigma has clout.

Academic Insight: Academic journals have picked up on some of these trends. For instance, New Media & Society has articles exploring the meanings of selfies and how youth navigate them in identity work (Towards a theoretical understanding of the selfie: A descriptive review) (How Social Media Influences Youth’s Visual Transitions). Researcher Katrin Tiidenberg has looked at how marginalized youth (e.g. LGBTQ communities on Tumblr) use selfies in carefully controlled ways to express themselves while managing privacy (“Every selfie tells a story …”: LGBTQ youth lifestreams and new …). These studies often show that young people are not simply vain or reckless online; they are quite strategic, weighing what sharing a photo might mean for them. Another study in Social Media + Society introduced the idea of “intersubjectivity and social semiotic interpretation of the selfie” (How Social Media Influences Youth’s Visual Transitions) – basically, that a selfie isn’t just self-expression, but a communication that others interpret, sometimes in ways that feed back into the selfie-taker’s own self-image. The heavier that intersubjective weight becomes, the more some might avoid the exchange altogether to preserve their sense of self.

VTuber and Avatar Popularity: A more niche but illuminating data point is the staggering growth of the VTuber phenomenon. VTubers (virtual YouTubers/streamers who use animated avatars) are largely driven by Gen Z audiences. Statistics show that while VTubers are a tiny fraction of content creators (~0.4% of channels), they command a disproportionately large share of viewership hours (~5.7%) (The Rise of VTubers 2023: Virtual Creators in the Streaming Space). And their viewership was growing by 28% year-over-year recently, even as traditional streamers’ viewership slightly declined (The Rise of VTubers 2023: Virtual Creators in the Streaming Space). This suggests that audiences find appeal in faceless entertainers – possibly valuing personality and voice over looks. In Japan, a survey in 2023 indicated around 7-9% of teens are fans of VTubers (boys slightly more than girls) (Japan: share of VTuber fans by gender and age 2023 | Statista), which is significant for what started as a niche subculture. The VTuber market was estimated at over $6 billion in 2023 and is forecasted to rocket up, indicating a major shift in how digital celebrities can be constructed without real faces (Vtuber (virtual YouTuber) Market Size, Share, Value and Forecast 2032). The key point for our discussion: Gen Z not only hides their own faces, they’re perfectly comfortable (even delighted) interacting with or idolizing others who hide theirs. The stigma of “hiding = dishonest” has faded; now it can be “hiding = creative or intriguing.” A VTuber’s privacy is respected as part of the act, and fans focus on the content (be it gaming, singing, chatting). This reflects a broader acceptance among youth that you don’t need a literal face to have a digital presence. It’s a profound cultural change. Compare that to early social media where a blank profile or avatar might be met with distrust.

Media Narratives: News outlets like The New York Times, Wired, and Vox have published pieces on Gen Z digital trends. A Vox article in 2020 humorously catalogued “Gen Z selfie poses”, highlighting that many were intentionally absurd or face-hiding (like the “hand over mouth” or the “we irritating” pose where girls cover their faces) (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox) (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox). The tone was that these teens are creating a “new visual language” with “plenty of irony” (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox). That framing, while lighthearted, actually reinforces our thesis: the traditional selfie was a straightforward presentation (“here’s me looking good”). The new language is indirect, coded, playful – you might scrunch your nose, hide your mouth, roll your eyes back (the e-boy thing) – all these gestures are like masking through performance. As one TikTok influencer quoted in Vox said, “teenagers… love hiding their faces” (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox). It’s almost a passing comment in that article, but it’s gold for us: a direct acknowledgement from an observer within the culture that face-hiding is beloved by a self-conscious generation.

The Reddit Anecdote: There is a vibrant Reddit discussion around a 2022 Atlantic piece titled “The personal brand is dead. Gen Z would rather be anonymous.” Many Redditors (often Gen Z or millennials) chimed in to agree. Some pointed out that being too visible can be dangerous; others said they find people who overshare their lives online somewhat off-putting now. One user wrote about having multiple online personas and how freeing it is to not have them linked. This crowd-sourced sentiment aligns with survey data: for example, Snapchat’s internal data had shown that younger users prefer features like posting to a select group (private stories) rather than public ones. Instagram likewise introduced a “Close Friends” feature, suggesting that even big platforms had to adapt to a more privacy-seeking behavior.

All this data and discourse leads to a clear conclusion: Gen Z is negotiating their digital identity on their own terms, often by limiting the exposure of that identity. The numbers (less frequent selfies, high anonymous account usage, mental health concerns tied to social media) and the narratives (trends, forums) reinforce each other. We have, effectively, a generation pulling a partial vanishing act – not disappearing from online (they are extremely online) but strategically withholding the central signifier of the self, the face, or compartmentalizing where and with whom the face is shown.

This careful curation of self is indeed a response to the cultural pressures we dissected earlier. Now that we have established what’s happening and some reasons why (surveillance, data, peer culture, etc.), we can delve deeper into a psychoanalytic interpretation. The next section will synthesize these findings with Lacanian and Žižekian theory to interpret the “imaginary crisis” more explicitly – essentially connecting the dots between the data and the unconscious/subconscious drives. But before that, we will touch on one specific intergenerational angle – the role of parents – in the following section, as it deserves focused attention given how prominently it appears in discussions about Gen Z’s privacy instincts.

Intergenerational Dynamics: Sharenting, Digital Legacy, and Gen Z’s Rebellion

One cannot fully understand Gen Z’s stance on digital self-exposure without looking at their relationship to their parents’ generation and how that earlier generation used (or misused) social media. Many Gen Z were effectively “raised on Instagram/Facebook” in two senses: not only did they grow up using these platforms (often since childhood), but many were features of their parents’ social media content years before they had accounts of their own. The term “sharenting” (a portmanteau of sharing + parenting) describes parents habitually posting about their kids – from baby photos and cute anecdotes to, in some cases, every milestone and mishap of a child’s life (Is “sharenting” taking away our children’s right to privacy?). For older millennials who became young parents circa 2010s, this was normal; for their Gen Z children, now teenagers, this has become a source of discomfort and even anger. This section explores how intergenerational media practices – especially sharenting and family digital habits – have prompted Gen Z to set new boundaries. It also looks at the concept of digital legacy and why Gen Z might be highly conscious of the permanent records being created about them. Finally, it touches on how some parents are responding and the evolving social norms (and even legislation) around these issues.

The Sharenting Era and Its Consequences: In the mid-2000s to 2010s, as Facebook and later Instagram took hold, proud parents found an easy way to share their lives: just post the kids’ photos online for friends and family. A toddler covered in spaghetti sauce? Post it. A child’s first day at school with a goofy grin? Post it. Multiply this by years, and some teens today find there are hundreds of images of their childhood online, possibly with embarrassing content (naked baby bath pics, tantrum moments, etc.), none of which they consented to. A widely reported case was that of an 18-year-old Austrian woman who sued her parents for posting embarrassing baby photos on Facebook – over 500 pictures – despite her asking them to take them down (A Teen Sued Her Parents Over Embarrassing Facebook Photos) (18-Year-Old Sues Parents for Posting Inappropriate Photos on …). She felt her rights to privacy were violated, and that case in 2016 was one of the first to highlight this generational conflict.

While not every teen takes legal action, many express frustration. By their logic, how can they be expected to eagerly plaster their face online when they’re still dealing with the fallout of someone else doing it for them all those years? It’s almost as if some Gen Z were “public figures” (in the small community sense) from toddlerhood without choice, and adolescence is their time to reclaim control. A commentator described it as: “Our social media babies are coming of age. Their push for privacy is reshaping the conversation around digital footprints.” (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation) Those “social media babies” is Gen Z and younger. Indeed, some have pushed for or supported proposed laws that would let minors force removal of content featuring them or even entitle them to earnings if parents monetized their childhood (such as family vlogs or child influencer accounts) (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation) (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation).

This is quite a reversal from earlier assumptions that kids/teens don’t care about privacy. On the contrary, because their privacy was often disregarded early on, they care intensely about it now. They are, as one article put it, “seeking control over their digital footprints” (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). That means pruning what’s out there and being cautious about adding more. It’s telling that some teens ask parents to take down old photos; others simply develop a habit of not smiling or covering their face whenever a camera is out at family gatherings – thus ensuring there isn’t a “clean shot” to post. The “nose cover” trend we discussed is a perfect microcosm: it arose specifically in family photo situations, where teens felt conscripted into being photographed and so found a subtle way to subvert it (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel) (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel).

Embarrassment and Autonomy: Amanda Jenner, a parenting expert, noted that covering their faces is a way for teens to deal with the awkwardness of adolescence in an era when unflattering photos can be widely shared (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). She mentioned that before smartphones, embarrassing family photos were “simply thrown in an album and only looked at on special occasions,” whereas now they can be circulated and used against the kids (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). The result is that the “nose cover pose allows them to be in a photo to satisfy their parents while still maintaining autonomy” (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel). This illustrates the negotiation happening: Gen Z kids aren’t necessarily trying to upset their parents; often, they love sharing moments but on their own terms. By half-complying (posing for the photo) and half-rebelling (covering the face), they strike a balance. The quote, “Unfortunately, this is the way it is today” (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel), from the expert, reflects a resigned acceptance that parents have to adjust – you can’t expect digital-native teens to be okay with unfiltered exposure the way it might have been in the past.

Digital Legacy Concerns: Another layer is that Gen Z is aware that whatever goes online might stay online indefinitely. The internet is an archive. They think about future ramifications: Could that silly picture from middle school resurface when they’re applying to college or jobs? Could it be fodder for cyberbullying by peers? These questions weigh on them. In places like Europe, “Right to be forgotten” laws under GDPR allow individuals to request deletion of personal data. While these are not specific to under-18s, growing up in an environment with such discussions trains young people to value control over information. In the U.S., there’s no broad law like that, but the conversation is happening – often propelled by Gen Z’s vocal discontent with what’s been done with their images.

The Six Pixels of Separation article (2023) on “The Sharenting Trap” emphasizes that as awareness grows, so does the call for legislative action to protect children’s privacy (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation) (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). It even mentions organizations like “Quit Clicking Kids” advocating against monetizing children’s content (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). The mention of generative AI was ominous: it warned that with new AI tools, having a complete digital history of your child accessible to anyone could facilitate deepfakes, stalking, etc., and could impact a child’s future opportunities (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). Many Gen Z are tech-literate enough to foresee these issues – they know their images could be taken and manipulated (a real fear, especially for teen girls who worry about their pics being used inappropriately).

Parental Oversight vs Teen Agency: Of course, not all parents overshare or clash with their kids on this. Some parents of Gen Z (especially those more aware of these issues) do respect their teens’ wishes for privacy. Some have even adopted practices like using emojis to cover their kids’ faces in posts, or using nicknames and private accounts to limit exposure. However, this then feeds into Gen Z’s notion that covering the face is the norm or ideal – if mom and dad are doing it to protect a younger sibling, the teen might think, “Shouldn’t I do the same for myself now that I can?”

There’s also the dynamic of “sharent shaming” – where teens make fun of parents who overshare. Countless TikTok videos show Gen Z mocking the way “Facebook moms” post dozens of similar baby photos or use their kids for likes. It’s become a trope that the younger crowd laughs at. This humor masks a serious boundary assertion: they don’t want to be props in someone else’s online persona (even if it’s their parent’s). They want to control their narrative.

Intergenerational Knowledge Gap: Often, Gen Z are more net-savvy than their parents, so they might be aware of risks that parents naively ignore. A teen might think: “Mom doesn’t realize that by tagging me at our local school and posting my face, she’s exposing me to strangers.” A small example: some teens ask their parents not to post real-time vacation photos or location tags because it could signal their home is empty (a safety risk) or just feels invasive. This role-reversal (child teaching parent about digital safety) further cements in the teen’s mind how crucial it is to be careful with personal info like one’s image.

Sibling Influence: For the oldest Gen Z (born late 90s), their parents might have been Gen X or older millennials who were also learning these boundaries in real-time. But for younger Gen Z and Gen Alpha, their older siblings (the early Gen Z themselves) might set the example. We see cases where an older sibling refuses to be in family vlogs or heavily limits their social media, which then informs the younger ones. So a cultural shift is happening: no longer is it just “uptight” parents policing teen social media; now teens themselves police what their family can share about them. They are, in a sense, raising their parents’ awareness, albeit often through conflict or refusal.

Family Dynamics and the “Algorithmic Legacy”: Another interesting facet is how some Gen Z consciously curate even family-facing social media. For instance, they might have one Instagram account where they allow family members as followers, and another (under a slight alias) where they post more freely for friends. They’ve learned to create audience partitions. This way, they can avoid a scenario where mom sees a post she doesn’t like or wants to share. It’s a way to manage upward the parental gaze. In doing so, they ensure the family’s digital archive of them (what the parents see and possibly save) is what they are comfortable with.

Parental Acceptance and Shifting Norms: How are parents reacting to all this? Many are gradually understanding. Hearing phrases like “It’s not about you, it’s about them wanting control” helps parents not take it personally. Some parents lament that they can’t proudly post their kids’ achievements because the kid forbids it, but at the same time, they don’t want to alienate their children. The more forward-thinking parents realize that teaching consent and respecting a child’s wishes in the digital realm is part of healthy parenting now. It parallels other forms of autonomy (like choosing clothes or hobbies) – now kids also have a say in their virtual representation.

In popular media, you even see storylines (in TV shows, etc.) about kids confronting parents about social media. It’s becoming part of the cultural script.

In summary, the intergenerational angle reveals a cause and effect: Gen Z’s privacy tools (hiding faces, pseudonyms) are, in part, reactive measures to the overexposure many experienced (or feared) due to sharenting and a lack of digital consent in childhood. It’s also a proactive stance to ensure they don’t repeat that pattern; if and when they become parents, perhaps they will be much more careful about exposing their own kids (we’re already seeing some millennial/Gen Z new parents who never show their baby’s face on public accounts, a dramatic shift from a decade prior).

The family and legacy context reinforces the broader theme: showing one’s face online is not a trivial act for Gen Z – it is loaded with implications of control, consent, and future uncertainty. By carving out spaces where they are faceless or by directly negotiating with parents about image use, they are reshaping social norms around what it means to grow up in public. They are effectively demanding a right that might seem obvious in retrospect: the right to not have a place (i.e., a public face) if they don’t want one, the right to choose when and how they are seen.

Now, having examined external factors (surveillance, data) and relational factors (parents, legacy), we move to a more interpretive section. What does all this mean for Gen Z’s sense of self from a psychoanalytic viewpoint? We will now synthesize the cultural evidence with Lacanian theory to delve into the imaginary crisis – essentially analyzing the inner psychological landscape of a Gen Z individual navigating these waters.

The Imaginary Crisis of Subjectivity: A Psychoanalytic Interpretation

We have described what Gen Z is doing (hiding faces, avoiding selfies) and many of the external reasons why (surveillance, social pressure, sharenting, etc.). Now we turn inward, using the language of psychoanalysis to interpret how these behaviors reflect deeper processes in the psyche of Gen Z individuals and in the collective psyche of this cohort. The phrase “imaginary crisis of subjectivity” suggests that something is amiss or in flux with how young people imagine themselves (their identity, ego, self-image) in the digital mirror. Let’s unpack this step by step, bringing in Lacanian terms and tying them to the concrete phenomena we’ve seen, and also adding Žižek’s perspective on how these personal struggles tie into the larger ideological landscape.

The Fractured Mirror: Recall Lacan’s Mirror Stage – normally, the mirror gives a (mis)recognition that helps coalesce the ego. Now imagine a funhouse mirror instead of a normal one – one that exaggerates, distorts, or multiplies your reflection. Social media often acts like a hall of mirrors: there’s the curated selfie you took (idealized image), the candids your friends tagged you in (maybe unflattering, out of your control), the filtered versions of you (alter-ego images), and even the hypothetical images (how you imagine others see you based on their comments or lack thereof). For a developing subject, this can be dizzying. Instead of one stable mirror image to identify with, Gen Z is confronted with too many – leading to what we might call an identity vertigo.

This is the Imaginary crisis: the realm of images that should provide comfort (“I see myself, I know who I am”) becomes a source of confusion and self-doubt (“Which image is the real me? Do these images actually represent me, or do they alienate me from myself?”). Psychoanalyst Elsa Godart, in a book on selfies (not directly cited here but paraphrased), argues that the selfie can either be narcissistic reinforcement or, conversely, an alienating experience where you seek yourself and don’t find satisfaction. The Gen Z trend indicates the latter: lack of satisfaction in images leading to pulling away from them.

Refusal of the False Self: Donald Winnicott, another psychoanalyst, talked about the concept of “false self” – an identity one puts on to cope with external demands, which can smother the “true self”. Social media encourages a performance that can feel like a false self. Many Gen Z feel a gap between how they present online and who they feel they are. Instead of continuing the charade, some prefer to drop it. This is similar to what Lacan might call stepping out of the Imaginary trap – not playing the game of ideal image at all. For example, a teen might think: Everyone posts happy selfies but I’m depressed; rather than post a fake smile, I’d rather post nothing or something abstract. This refusal to partake in the expected image economy is a reclaiming of authenticity, but it leaves a vacuum in terms of ego-ideals. If I’m not the smiling selfie person, who am I? Possibly this leads to identifying with being faceless or being an “outsider” online – a new kind of identity that is defined by what it’s not (not a selfie-poster, not an open book).

Anxiety and the Gaze: Lacan famously said that the essence of anxiety is not not being seen, but the fear of being seen too much. In Gen Z’s case, the crisis can be understood as an anxiety of over-exposure. They grew up with the Other’s gaze literally in their pocket – any friend could demand a selfie via Snapchat any time, any acquaintance could scroll their history. The boundaries between interior self and exterior portrayal became porous. Psychoanalytically, when the protective barriers of the self are weak, anxiety arises. The face is a kind of “surface” of the self – if it’s constantly on display, the interior may feel intruded upon. Many youth experience a sense of violation or loss of privacy just from the ambient expectation to share their life visually. Thus, covering the face is like restoring a boundary. It’s re-establishing a safe inside vs outside. This can be seen as a healthy defense (setting boundaries is psychologically healthy), but it also indicates that the prior situation was stress-inducing enough to require a defense.

Lacan’s concept of the barred subject ($) is useful here: the subject is divided, with something hidden behind the bar that language/image can’t capture. Social media tries to un-bar the subject by making everything transparent and shareable. Gen Z’s tactics effectively put the bar back in place – “you see my posts, but you don’t see me, not fully.” This preserves their enigma, which is crucial for mental integrity.

Object a – the Face as Commodified Object: In Lacanian theory, object a (like the gaze or the voice) is something of the subject that gets objectified and can circulate. One could say the face, in selfie culture, became an object of exchange (for attention, likes, etc.). It’s like the face isn’t wholly the person; it’s a part that can be disembodied (a floating image on someone’s screen). Perhaps unconsciously, some Gen Z recoil from this alienation. They don’t want their face to become a thing consumed by others. They might not articulate it that way, but they express it by not offering it up. For them, maybe it’s better to have no face online than to have it be objectified or misunderstood.

Interestingly, when they do share images, Gen Z often focus on parts of themselves – a hand making a peace sign, feet dangling off a ledge in a photo, a mirror selfie with the phone covering the face. These partial objects could be seen as them controlling which part becomes object a. They might be okay with their shoes or silhouette being out there (low stakes, not personally identifying in the same way a face is). They choose the object that stands in for them. This is reminiscent of how Lacan describes fetishes or decoys – you focus on a part to avoid the whole that causes anxiety.

Jouissance and Retreat: Lacan’s concept of jouissance (excessive, often painful enjoyment) can be applied to social media usage. There is a certain jouissance in the endless scroll, the thrill of getting likes, but it can turn on you and become suffering (compulsion, envy, self-critique). Many Gen Z have hit a point of burnout – a sign that the activity of self-display and consumption stopped being fun and became a source of pain. In psychoanalysis, when an activity yields diminishing enjoyment and increasing pain, the subject might either pursue it more intensely (neurotic repetition) or abandon it (avoidance). We see Gen Z split – some indeed doomscroll more (trapped in anxiety), others throw up their hands and log off or heavily moderate their behavior (a kind of negation of jouissance). The ones engaging in selfie aversion are in the latter camp: they identify that taking and posting selfies doesn’t give them joy, it gives them stress or emptiness, so they cut it out. This conscious cutting off of a form of jouissance is like a symptom – a deliberate limitation to prevent worse suffering. One could say the symptom (face hiding) is solving an internal conflict: “I feel pressured to show myself, but I hate it, so I develop a pattern (like always using an emoji on my face) that lets me participate socially without undergoing the thing I hate.”

Symbolic Deadlock and New Signifiers: Žižek’s idea of symbolic deadlock can be applied to identity: Perhaps Gen Z finds that the existing symbolic vocabulary to define oneself (name, gender, location, photos, bio – basically the profile format) is inadequate or oppressive. So they jam the system by refusing parts of it. Not putting a photo is like leaving a lacuna in the symbolic structure – a gap that says “I’m not playing by those rules.” Some even use default avatars or joke images in protest of real-name networks. It’s reminiscent of early internet culture where anonymity was valued (like on forums where having an avatar of an anime character instead of your face was normal – Gen Z, interestingly, has kind of revived early internet anonymity ethos, possibly as a reaction to the real-name, real-face era of Facebook that their parents ushered in).

Žižek also often speaks of how ideology handles dissent. If Gen Z’s withdrawal from selfies is a dissent from the “ideology of transparency and self-promotion,” one might ask: does that create a new ideology of its own? Possibly yes – an ideology of opacity or mystique. Gen Z might pride themselves on being harder to pin down. A telling micro-trend: on TikTok, some users deliberately mislead about their identity (e.g., a user who never reveals their face or gender, letting people guess – and they enjoy the speculation). Playing with identity fluidity and ambiguity is a theme (connect also to more openness to gender fluidity – not directly our focus, but conceptually related in resisting fixed categories). This can be seen as a form of reclaiming subjectivity from a system that wants to categorize and market it.

The Role of Irony and Detachment: A hallmark of Gen Z communication is irony. Psychoanalytically, irony and memes can be seen as defenses – ways to make light of or gain distance from something overwhelming. Posting a half-faced selfie with a sarcastic caption like “felt cute, might delete later” (a meme in itself) is a way to preempt criticism by not taking one’s own image seriously. It’s a protective disavowal: “Yes, this is me, but I’m laughing at me, so you can’t hurt me by laughing at me, because I’m in on the joke.” This is a common psyche-saving move. If we recall, Lacan said after the Mirror Stage, the subject is at the mercy of the image; by making the image a joke, Gen Z attempts to assert mastery over it. However, too much detachment can lead to a feeling of hollowness – if everything is a joke, where is the real me? Some Gen Z express feeling numb or fake after curating multiple ironic personas. This is again a crisis of subjectivity: how to be genuine in a world that often rewards being a meme. The choice of facelessness can be read as a desire for genuineness – paradoxically, by showing nothing, they feel they aren’t projecting anything fake. If you see a beautiful selfie, it might be a lie; if you see a blank icon or a cartoon, at least I’m not lying about myself – I’m just not showing myself at all.

Psychological Outcomes – Good or Bad?: It’s worth asking: is this faceless strategy psychologically beneficial for Gen Z? It can cut both ways. On one hand, it can reduce anxiety and allow them to explore interests and communication free from body-image concerns. On the other hand, identity development does involve integrating one’s appearance with one’s self-concept; if someone is always hiding, could that stunt their self-acceptance? Mental health professionals have mixed views. Some encourage teens to reduce social media use if it’s harming them (the American Psychological Association even suggests limits on teen social media exposure for mental health). Others worry that avoiding showing oneself entirely might reinforce negative self-image (i.e., “I hide because I think I’m ugly, and never getting validation or challenging that thought might keep me stuck feeling ugly”).

From a Lacanian standpoint, one might say a complete retreat from the Imaginary is impossible; humans need some image to identify with. So Gen Z might be forging new images – perhaps identifications with characters, aesthetics, or communities that are less about individual face and more about group symbols. Think of the proliferation of aesthetic subcultures (e.g., cottagecore, dark academia, etc.) on platforms like Tumblr/Pinterest: teens build a sense of identity by curating moodboards rather than selfies. Their “mirror” is the collage of images that represent their vibe, not their own face. This is fascinating – it’s like a displacement of the ego onto a palette of imagery. Psychoanalytically, you could argue they’re externalizing parts of themselves into these aesthetic objects (the soft-focus pic of a forest, the neon anime graphic, etc.), which collectively stand in for their personality. This is creative but also indicates that the straightforward self-image (face) is sidestepped in favor of indirect self-symbols. It’s a workaround for the Imaginary: an imagistic identity, but not centered on one’s body.

Žižek: Subjectivity under Late Capitalism: Žižek might point out that late capitalism first compelled people to treat themselves as commodities (hence the mania for personal branding and selfies), and now we see a pushback where the subject says “I won’t be an object for you.” He would likely note that even this pushback can be commodified – e.g., anonymity itself can be marketed (VPN ads, privacy-focused platforms, etc., show how capitalism finds a way to profit from every trend). But at the subjective level, Gen Z’s malaise and reaction fit into what he calls the “cynical distance” – they know the system is silly or harmful, so they engage with ironic distance or drop-out behaviors, yet they are still within the system’s ambit.

Another Žižekian angle: The Imaginary crisis could also be seen as a failure of the Symbolic. Traditionally, a person’s identity was anchored by symbolic roles (I’m a student, a member of X community, child of Y family, etc.) and those gave meaning beyond just the image. Social media flattened a lot of that into the image (everyone from different parts of life sees the same profile of you). Žižek might say the big Other (the guarantor of stable identity) has eroded, leaving people clinging to images and then getting disillusioned by them. The Gen Z response might be an unconscious attempt to rebuild some symbolic order – maybe more private communities with rules and trust (like private Discords or group chats function as a sort of small Other that validates them in more nuanced ways than an algorithmic feed). The decline of broad public sharing and rise of intimate sharing (close friends, private accounts) could be the subject seeking a more manageable Other to relate to.

Summing up the Psychoanalytic View: Gen Z’s selfie aversion signals a search for a new equilibrium of self. They are caught between the allure of visibility and the comfort of obscurity, and many tilt toward the latter to protect the coherence of their identity. The “crisis” isn’t a breakdown in a clinical sense, but a turning point where the old way (mirror=identity) doesn’t work smoothly, and a new way (maybe mirror=identity is optional or fragmented) is forming. In Lacan’s triad, if the Imaginary is in crisis, perhaps they lean more on the Symbolic (rules of privacy, pseudonyms) or find the Real (some authenticity) in more raw unmediated interactions (like face-to-face hangs where phones are away – ironically some Gen Z value in-person time highly as a contrast to online life).

In psychoanalytic terms, one could interpret the faceless trend as a massive act of collective symptom formation that attempts to solve the following problem: “How can I be a subject (with desire, with uniqueness) in a digital network that constantly tries to mirror me and objectify me?” The symptom (hiding, anonymity) is an answer: “I will withhold the part of me you expect (my face), thereby preserving my desire (you cannot fully know or enjoy me), and asserting my uniqueness (I am not just another selfie in the feed).” It’s a sort of mass psychological hack.

Of course, this solution has trade-offs: it can lead to new forms of alienation (being invisible can feel lonely, or you become a voyeur of others’ lives while keeping yourself hidden, which has its own psychic toll). There’s also the issue of oscillation – some days a teen might feel confident and post a selfie, then regret it and delete it, going back and forth. That indicates the crisis is dynamic, not a one-time choice. It’s an ongoing negotiation: “How much of me do I show today? And how do I feel afterward?”

Understanding this deep psychological layer adds empathy to why Gen Z might seem “weird” to older folks in how they use social media. It’s not just trendiness; it’s serving a psychological need in the face of new challenges.

Now that we’ve delved into the interior logic of Gen Z’s facelessness, we should examine one major external development that will shape the future of this issue: advances in AI and the move toward virtual identities. The next section will look at how AI, avatars, and new technologies intersect with these identity practices, potentially offering both solutions and new problems for Gen Z’s quest to manage their digital self.

The Avatar Age: AI, Filters, and the Future of Identity

As Gen Z navigates their subjectivity in the digital realm, technology continues to evolve, introducing new tools and challenges. The rise of artificial intelligence (AI) in media – from sophisticated photo filters to deepfake technology to entirely virtual influencers – is changing the rules of online identity. In this section, we explore how Gen Z engages with these developments. We’ll look at the prevalence of filters and digital masks, the phenomenon of VTubers and virtual avatars (which we touched on before), and the implications of deepfakes and AI-generated content on trust and self-representation. We’ll also consider whether these technologies are empowering Gen Z to craft identities on their own terms, or if they pose new threats to authenticity and privacy.

AR Filters and “Digital Masks”: Gen Z grew up with Snapchat lenses and Instagram filters that can, with a swipe, beautify or transform one’s face into dogs, anime characters, or glittery fairies. These started as playful tools but have become a ubiquitous part of taking selfies – so much so that many young people feel uncomfortable posting an unfiltered photo. There’s a term “Snapchat dysmorphia” that predates Zoom dysmorphia, referring to people wanting to look like their filtered selves (e.g., surgically altering their face to match the smoothed skin or big eyes of a filter) ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ). This shows how the line between real face and digital face is blurred. Some Gen Z have essentially never presented an unfiltered face online; from their first profile picture, they perhaps used a touch-up tool. Filters can be seen as a form of digital mask – they allow you to show your face but “improve” or hide aspects of it.

However, many Gen Z are aware of the distortions filters create. On TikTok, it’s common to see “filter vs no filter” comparison videos, where users educate peers on how dramatically a filter changes appearances. This technical awareness can either cause alarm (leading to more insecurity) or skepticism (leading to rejecting filters). We see both reactions. Some continue using heavy filters, essentially presenting an augmented identity; others have started movements like #nofilter, urging peers to normalize real skin and flaws.

The existence of filters offers a compromise for those anxious about showing face: you show an edited version of face. But to some Gen Z, this feels inauthentic, thus not a perfect solution to their imaginary crisis. Interestingly, certain stylized filters (like turning you into a cartoon or adding funny effects) feel more acceptable because they are obviously not real – they’re more like digital costumes. A trend on Instagram has been using face filters that put, say, an emoji or a blur over the face in stories – effectively built-in tools to hide the face cutely. So tech companies also acknowledge users may want not just beautification but anonymization features. For example, Snapchat launched a feature called “My AI” that can generate images; more relevant, on Snapchat you also have the option to use Bitmoji (a cartoon avatar of yourself) as your virtual representation. Many Gen Z enjoy Bitmojis because it’s them, but not a photo – a safe middle ground.

Deepfakes and Trust Erosion: On the flip side, AI that can fake identities raises stakes. If any image or video can be potentially faked, one might become more cautious about putting one’s real face online in a context where it could be misused. Already, there have been troubling cases of non-consensual deepfake pornography, where someone’s social media photos are used to create explicit fake images. This particularly scares young women – a new reason to be wary of having high-res selfies floating around. As the Sharenting Trap article warned, an extensive digital history makes people vulnerable to such AI-driven harassment (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation). Gen Z, being early adopters, are among the first to grasp what deepfake tech can do; thus, some may proactively limit face images to mitigate risk.

Conversely, some use AI for creative self-expression. For example, apps like Reface allow users to put their face into movie scenes; other AI apps generate “portraits” of you in various artistic styles. These can be fun, but they also again detach the face from reality. A person might prefer to use an AI-generated avatar that looks 10% better or more stylized than them as a profile picture – that’s already happening (you upload selfies to an app, it outputs cool anime-style portraits, and many will use those instead of a photo). This automated beautification or stylization can become addictive and further push actual photos out of the equation.

VTubers and Virtual Identities: We discussed VTubers as content creators using avatars. It’s worth noting that some regular folks are starting to use avatars in everyday social media too. For instance, Apple’s Memoji and Snapchat’s Bitmoji let people send cartoon avatar versions of themselves in chats and even use them as video filters (so instead of your face in a video call, a cartoon face mimics your expressions). These give a sense of presence without revealing the real face. For Gen Z, who often have grown up customizing avatars in video games or The Sims, it’s intuitive to have a “virtual self.” Already on forums or Discord, many teens identify more with their chosen profile pic (be it an anime character or a custom avatar) than with an actual photo of themselves. The identity play is happening in a digital symbolic realm.

The growth of the VTuber market to an estimated $6.28 billion in 2023, projected to reach $117 billion by 2032, is jaw-dropping (Vtuber (virtual YouTuber) Market Size, Share, Value and Forecast 2032). While that encompasses entertainment and tech infrastructure, the psychological driver is that audiences (largely Gen Z and Gen Alpha) embrace fictitious characters as personalities. Some VTubers are essentially online friends to their fans, similar to how one might have felt a bond with a human YouTuber, but here the “friend” is a cartoonish character voiced by a hidden real person. A survey noted that one reason people become VTubers is “higher privacy protection compared to other contemporaries” (Vtuber (virtual YouTuber) Market Size, Share, Value and Forecast 2032). This directly shows that anonymity is a selling point for creators too – they can achieve fame or community without sacrificing personal privacy. Gen Z creators see that as very attractive. Even outside of streaming, that philosophy carries: why show my real self when I can curate a cooler, safer digital persona?

Virtual Influencers and AI Personas: Relatedly, we now have virtual influencers like Lil Miquela, who has 2.5+ million Instagram followers (Miquela (@lilmiquela) • Instagram photos and videos) (Discover The Top 12 Virtual Influencers for 2025 – Listed and Ranked!) but is completely CGI. Lil Miquela collaborates with real fashion brands and is treated somewhat like a real person by fans. This blurs reality, but what’s notable is that younger audiences don’t seem to mind – they follow these profiles for the content or aesthetic, not caring that there is no “real” face. In a sense, Gen Z is content interacting with masks. The mask has become autonomous. For our topic, it underscores that the cultural primacy of the human face is diminishing online. A powerful image or persona can engage people without an actual human face attached.

For Gen Z individuals, seeing virtual influencers succeed might reinforce the idea: “If a fake persona can be popular, I shouldn’t worry so much about putting my real self out there. I could instead create my own alias/character.” In fact, some Gen Z have multiple TikTok or YouTube accounts where they play different characters or explore different aesthetics, effectively being their own “virtual influencers” on a small scale.

Algorithmic Gaze 2.0 – AI Moderation and Recognition: There’s also the facet of algorithms scanning faces for moderation or surveillance. TikTok’s algorithm has been reported to auto-detect faces and possibly downrank content with certain features (a controversy about purported “ugly suppression”). On the positive side, some apps might downrank overtly sexual images of minors, etc., for protection – which could misfire if, say, any bikini picture of a teen gets flagged. But either way, if users suspect that the algorithm treats them differently based on their face, they might adapt by avoiding showing it. Similarly, with the rise of facial recognition in public (some countries use it heavily for security), youth might culturally become more comfortable covering their face (with masks, fashion items). The COVID-19 pandemic got everyone used to face masks; interestingly, some young people found it a relief to walk around with a mask not just for health but because it eased social anxiety. Masks are normal in many East Asian societies even pre-COVID, and they do give anonymity in crowds. So between digital masks (filters) and physical masks, Gen Z has tools to not be immediately recognizable if they don’t want to be.

AI and Creativity – New Possibilities: On a brighter note, these technologies allow Gen Z to craft identity in creative ways. They can literally design an avatar to represent them – choosing attributes that reflect their inner self better than their genetic appearance might. For a generation that values diversity and self-definition (think of how many Gen Z embrace the idea that gender, sexuality, etc., are self-identified rather than assigned), the ability to self-fashion one’s visual identity is appealing. A shy teen might become a bold-looking VTuber online, expressing a side of themselves they can’t in person. In that sense, anonymity or alternative identity can be freeing and even psychologically beneficial – a form of exploring the self through imaginative play.

One could argue this is a modern extension of Lacan’s Imaginary: instead of identifying with the mirror of your flesh, you identify with a mirror of your creation. It’s like building your ideal-I and then attempting to inhabit it. There’s potential for empowerment, but also the risk of further alienation if one feels one’s real self is completely divorced from the ideal avatar.

Integration of AI with Daily Communication: Big tech companies foresee a future of embodied AI avatars for each user. For example, Meta (Facebook) is investing in metaverse avatars for social interaction. Gen Z reaction is mixed – some are enthusiastic gamers who love the idea, others mock it (witness the lukewarm interest in Facebook’s Horizon Worlds). It might be that Gen Z prefers the lightweight anonymity of text and 2D images rather than a full VR representation (which ironically might demand showing more of self in motion). But as AR gets integrated (like wearing AR glasses that can overlay info on people’s faces), privacy will get new wrinkles. Will future glasses show someone’s social media profile when you look at them? If so, not having your face in a database is a way to opt out. Science fiction-like as it sounds, these techs are on the horizon and Gen Z will have to adapt.

Balancing Authenticity and Anonymity: AI can also generate fake social media posts and mimic style (e.g., using ChatGPT to write captions or produce content). There’s a potential that personal profiles become less personal and more curated by AI to optimize engagement. Some Gen Z might do this for convenience or clout, but others will find it even more reason to retreat – if everything is manufactured, showing something real (like a raw face) might feel even more exposing. Alternatively, as the internet floods with AI-generated images, a real unedited photo might ironically gain a cachet of authenticity. So the pendulum could swing – maybe in a few years, a grainy unfiltered selfie could be valued as vintage “realness” amidst AI perfection. Cultural tastes do react against over-tech. Already, one sees some trends like posting disposable camera photos or film camera selfies (which often are less polished) as a statement of unfiltered reality. Some Gen Z aesthetics (e.g., the indie sleaze resurgence) embrace on-camera flash and messy angles, deliberately against the AI/algorithmic smoothness.

Protections and Solutions: There are efforts to help young users navigate these AI-laden waters. For example, some platforms verify profiles (so followers know Lil Miquela is not a person but a brand-run avatar). There’s talk of watermarking AI-generated images to distinguish them. Gen Z, being digital natives, often become savvy at spotting fakes. Yet, the emotional impact remains – knowing logically that everyone uses a filter doesn’t necessarily stop you from feeling bad that you can’t measure up.

From a psychological standpoint, the integration of AI means Gen Z must form an identity not just in relation to other humans, but in relation to machines and machine-generated people. It’s a new dimension to the question “Who am I among others?” when some “others” are not real and the notion of “real” itself is blurred. This can exacerbate the imaginary crisis (“if everything is image and even AIs have images, where do I find the real me?”). But it can also relieve it (“since everything is image, I can treat it as a game and not invest so much self-worth in it”).

Adaptive Strategies Noted: Some Gen Z have creative methods to remain authentic while using anonymity. For instance, using voice notes or video with just voice while showing scenery – letting personality through without face. Others make aesthetic pages that convey their feelings or tastes, which friends know belong to them, thus expressing identity in an oblique way. And some embrace ephemeral content – saying, “I’ll show my face briefly on a story that disappears in 24h, but not on a permanent post.” This ephemeral sharing (via Snapchat or IG/FB stories) is hugely popular among Gen Z – it satisfies the urge to be seen and connect in the moment, but doesn’t become an eternal artifact. It’s like the middle ground between total anonymity and permanent exposure. We might interpret ephemeral media as the digital version of day-to-day interactions (as opposed to the timeline/profile which is like a permanent record). Gen Z tends to favor those in-the-moment channels.

In conclusion for this section: AI and new tech are double-edged for Gen Z’s identity crisis. They provide new masks to wear – some empowering (avatars that enable free self-expression) and some problematic (filters that enforce unattainable beauty, deepfakes that threaten consent). Gen Z seems to be selectively embracing the parts that give them more control over how they appear (e.g., VTubing, pseudonymity) and rejecting the parts that take away control (e.g., random tagging or facial recognition).

The long-term trajectory may be that by the time Gen Alpha or Beta (future kids) come of age, the idea of a singular, stable, photo-ID identity might be antiquated. We could imagine a norm where everyone online is behind some kind of avatar or digital veil, and direct human-to-human image sharing is intimate/reserved. That would be almost a return to pre-internet privacy but executed through tech.

With the role of technology outlined, we move to our final major section: New Social Rituals and Post-Selfie Culture, where we’ll examine how these trends manifest in the cultural practices and “rituals” replacing the selfie. That will set the stage for the conclusion, where we tie everything together and reflect on implications.

New Rituals of Self-Presentation: Post-Selfie Culture Takes Shape

As Gen Z moves away from the classic selfie-centric mode of social media, they aren’t abandoning visual culture altogether – rather, they’re inventing and popularizing new forms and rituals of digital expression. In this section, we survey some of these emerging cultural forms that characterize the post-selfie era. These include the rise of VTubers and virtual performances (already discussed, but now looked at as a routine entertainment form), the proliferation of avatars and pseudonymous personas, the trend of moodboards and aesthetic accounts, and even changes in how people photograph themselves and their lives (for example, the “photo dump” carousel posts or emphasis on environment over faces). We’ll also consider how Gen Z handles real-time face-sharing in contexts like video calls or live streams – sometimes turning those into less self-focused experiences as well. In other words, what do Gen Z do online instead of taking lots of selfies?

VTubers and Digital Performers – A New Celebrity Ritual: We’ve touched on VTubing as an industry, but it’s worth noting how it’s becoming a mainstream part of youth culture, especially in East Asia but spreading globally. Watching a VTuber’s livestream is a ritual for many – tuning in to see an anime avatar chat or play games. Fans have communities, lingo, and fan art around these characters. Importantly, in VTuber fandom, it’s often considered poor etiquette to seek out the real identity of the performer (they call it a breach of the “seiso” or purity of the act). This norm – don’t chase the real face, just enjoy the persona – might spill over to regular friendships. It fosters an ethos of respecting boundaries and enjoying interaction at face (or mask) value. The fact that a chunk of Gen Z spends hours consuming content where nobody’s real face is shown normalizes faceless interaction as legitimate and even emotionally fulfilling.

Avatar Communication – “PFP as identity”: On forums, Discord, and even Twitter (“X”), people often recognize each other by username and profile picture (PFP). Changing one’s PFP can be like changing your haircut – a notable event in that community. Some will stick to one avatar that becomes “them” online (be it a favorite cartoon character or a logo). This is a new ritual: customizing and updating avatars as a form of self-expression. For example, when there’s a trending art style meme (like everyone making their PFP a certain creature or color for a day), Gen Z participates en masse – it’s participatory but doesn’t involve their actual likeness, it’s more symbolic. This is somewhat ritualistic (think of it like digital costume parties).

Apps like Zepeto (popular among teens in Asia and globally) allow people to create 3D avatars and take snapshots in virtual settings, effectively replacing selfies with avatar selfies. Teens use these to share on Instagram or messaging, saying “this is us hanging out in Zepeto” rather than actual photos. It’s playful, but also telling: they sometimes prefer a cute virtual photo of “them” than an actual photo.

Moodboards and Aesthetic Pages: A big trend on Instagram is the “moodboard” or thematic page – often not tied to a person’s name or face at all. For instance, accounts that just post visual inspirations: architecture, outfits (without the poster wearing them, often magazine pics or self-taken but faceless modeling of clothes), quotes with stylish typography, etc. Many of these are run by Gen Z who treat the Instagram grid as an art gallery or diary of mood, rather than a place to showcase their own visage. One example cited was @hidden.ny (Hidden New York), a popular moodboard that curated hip-hop and streetwear aesthetic; the creator remained anonymous for a long time and amassed a big following (How an Instagram creator became a hyped streetwear brand by …). The appeal is curation as personality – followers get a sense of the curator’s taste and indirectly, a sense of them, without ever seeing them. This new ritual is reminiscent of older internet blogs or Tumblr, but it’s been integrated into the Instagram ecosystem which initially was designed around personal posting. In essence, Gen Z repurposed a platform meant for selfies into one for vision boards. The creativity here is that identity can be expressed in what you like and share, not just how you look.

Challenges and Meme Poses – “We irritating” and others: Instead of serious posed selfies, Gen Z engages in collaborative posing memes. The “we irritating” pose (two girls covering their face, which became a meme format) (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox) is an example – it’s done to be funny and to fit a meme, not as a genuine attempt at looking attractive. Similarly, planking, T-posing, the Harlem Shake video trend, or recent TikTok dance trends – these involve people showing themselves, but in a performative way where the individual identity is downplayed in favor of participating in a collective joke or trend. Often, in these, one’s face might be present but it’s making a silly expression or partially obscured (like everyone doing the “wayning” where they cover face and shake head to music, etc.). This ritual of trend participation means the social reward comes from communal recognition (“you did the thing!”) rather than personal validation (“you look good!”). It shifts the frame from “judge my appearance” to “enjoy my act”. Even the much-maligned “TikTok dances” can be seen in that light – yes, some are thirst traps, but many are just an excuse to move and be part of something, often shot at a distance where facial details are secondary to the dance moves.

Ephemeral Snaps and Private Stories – The New Hanging Out: Gen Z often prefer communicating with quick snaps or short videos that disappear. Sending an ugly/funny face on Snapchat to a friend is a bonding ritual – it’s showing trust (“I can send you this because I know you won’t screenshot and shame me”). This is more intimate and not for clout, so it doesn’t conflict with their curated image because it’s not public. Meanwhile, the concept of a “photo dump” on Instagram (posting 5-10 random images in a carousel after a week or month, often captioned just “dump” or something) has become a norm. These dumps usually include maybe one semi-nice pic and then a bunch of casual or bizarre ones (a blurry selfie, a picture of their food, a screenshot of a funny chat, a pet photo, etc.). It’s deliberately anti-aesthetic, or rather, it’s a new aesthetic of authenticity. Usually, if their face appears, it might be slide 7/10, not the cover image of the post. It says: my life isn’t a curated magazine, it’s a series of moments, and I’ll share some – maybe me making a stupid face or lying on the floor – without highlight-reeling everything. The ritual here is end-of-week or end-of-month dumps, replacing the daily selfie posts of the Instagram early days.

BeReal and candid culture: The app BeReal (which prompts users at a random time each day to post a front-and-back camera photo within 2 minutes) gained traction by appealing to authenticity. It forces a selfie plus a photo of what’s in front of you, with no time to glam up. Many Gen Z hopped on it because it felt like an antidote to Instagram. However, even with BeReal, you see coping tactics: some would delay posting until they looked okay (even though that breaks the intended spontaneity), or they’d post something not showing themselves clearly (like phone pointed to ceiling). Still, the general vibe on BeReal among friends is that nobody cares how you look; it’s more about “what are you up to right now?” So that is a new ritual – the daily unfiltered check-in – that might actually help some overcome image anxiety by making it casual. It’s less performative since there are no likes or viral mechanics, only friends see it. This suggests that platform design can influence behavior: when metrics and strangers are removed, Gen Z might share their face more freely because the context feels safe (Symbolic order restored to a small circle). Thus, some are fine to share genuine selfies privately even if they avoid public ones.

Faceless Influencers and Content Creators: A notable development is that one can now become a content creator and even influencer without showing one’s face. Platforms like TikTok have “storytime” narrators who film something like their hands cooking or painting, or just use subtitles over gameplay footage, to tell a story. Some have millions of followers and we never see them. On YouTube, channels like “Voice-over commentary” over slideshow, or animation channels, have huge Gen Z audiences. Essentially, Gen Z doesn’t require a human face to connect with content. Even personal vlogs have evolved: some do vlogs showing point-of-view shots rather than talking head style. A subset of “faceless YouTubers” exists and is well respected in various niches (tech reviews, horror narration, etc.). This broadens the imagination of a young person: they realize, “I can have a voice online without a face.” So a ritual now might be doing a TikTok video showing just your outfit in the mirror with your head cropped out – focusing on fashion while keeping anonymity. Many do this, and viewers are fine as long as the content is interesting.

Collaborative Identities: Another interesting trend is group accounts or communal personas. For example, friend groups running a single TikTok together, or couples sharing one Instagram. In those cases, the identity is plural, which diffuses individual spotlight. A group of friends might make a meme page where they all contribute but none is individually identified as the “face” of it. This again ties to collectivist use of social media vs individualist. It’s a ritual in the sense of group bonding activity.

The Return of Text and Audio: Amid visual overload, some Gen Z retreat to text-based platforms or audio. The resurgence of interest in podcasts (lots of young listeners) and even writing (some go to Twitter not to post pics but to quip in text) shows not everything has to be image. On Discord, long conversations happen with maybe profile pics but no real faces. This could be seen as a ritual of returning to older internet styles (like chat rooms). Some have “vent servers” or diaries on platforms like Notion that they might share in text form with friends. It’s all part of diversifying the modes of expression.

In-Person Aesthetics, Digital Second: A notable social shift is some Gen Z prioritize how things feel in real life rather than how they look online. For instance, they might go to a concert and not take any photos for social media, whereas millennials might have snapped many for Instagram. There’s an ethic of “live in the moment, not through the screen” that some youth advocate – a backlash to their parents recording everything. Ironically, enjoying an experience without posting about it becomes a flex of its own (something like “the coolest thing I did isn’t even on social media”). The ritual here is non-ritual: purposely not documenting something, which is a new kind of social code emerging – sometimes friends brag about taking zero pics on a night out because “we were having too much fun IRL.”

Cultural Variations in Rituals: Globally, these trends manifest with local flavor. In East Asia, as mentioned, anonymous accounts are long normal (e.g., many Japanese Twitter users have no personal info and just tweet about hobbies). In Latin America, there’s a strong meme culture – humor pages and community pages often overshadow personal posting. In some Middle Eastern contexts, the ritual of using cartoons or abstract images as avatars is common (for privacy or modesty), and group chats or WhatsApp take precedence over public feeds. So Gen Z in those regions might engage more in closed networks to express themselves, which again means less public-facing identity performance.

Curated Imperfection as New Perfection: It’s worth noting some critique: what looks like messy authenticity can itself become a curated style. For example, influencers caught on that posting one “silly” photo among polished ones makes them seem relatable. There’s talk of “Instagram casual” being the new aesthetic, where you make planned posts look random. Gen Z can sniff out true authenticity vs performative authenticity to an extent, but inevitably, some of the anti-selfie ethos can be co-opted. Brands now run TikTok accounts with memes and faceless humor to appeal to youths. So the dance continues: as mainstream culture adopts Gen Z’s faceless/meme-y style, some in Gen Z might ironically swing back to something else (perhaps the cycle might bring a new way of personal sharing but on their own terms in the future).

All these cultural practices show a landscape in flux – not devoid of images, but images being used differently. The rituals of social validation have shifted from “look at my beautiful selfie” (like-era validation) to “laugh at this with me” or “appreciate this vibe I curated” (more about shared context or taste). This indicates a reorientation of what is valued socially: moving from appearance to experience, humor, aesthetic sense, and community belonging. In effect, Gen Z is diversifying identity expression, not relying on the single axis of personal looks that dominated the early social media stage.

Having gone through introduction, context, theoretical framing, gaze/surveillance, data, intergenerational dynamics, psychoanalytic deep-dive, AI/avatars, and these new cultural rituals, we have a comprehensive view of the phenomenon. Now, we will conclude by tying together these insights, reflecting on the broader implications, and considering what lies ahead. The conclusion will summarize key findings and perhaps suggest how this Gen Z approach might influence future norms and the mental well-being of the generation as they mature.

Conclusion: Facing the Future of the Faceless Generation

Generation Z’s aversion to selfies and embrace of faceless digital personas is more than a passing fad – it represents a nuanced response to the complexities of growing up in a hyper-visible, hyper-mediated world. Over the course of this report, we have seen how this trend emerges from a confluence of factors: the cultural context of selfie saturation and backlash, the psychological pressures of the gaze and self-image, intergenerational tensions over privacy, and the transformative impact of technology on identity practices. Grounding our analysis in Lacanian psychoanalysis and Žižek’s cultural theory has revealed that at its core, this is indeed an “imaginary crisis of subjectivity.” Gen Z is renegotiating the relationship between their image (Imaginary) and their sense of self (subjectivity) in the face of late-capitalist digital culture’s demands.

Key conclusions and reflections from our exploration include:

• Rebellion and Repair: Gen Z’s selfie-shyness is a form of rebellion against the previous era’s norms of constant self-display and a repair mechanism for the self. By hiding their faces or limiting their visibility, young people reclaim a sense of agency over their identity that they felt was eroded by surveillance, parental oversharing, and the homogenizing forces of social media. As one commentary succinctly observed, “the youngest adult generation is frustrated with being surveilled”, instigating “a retreat into smaller internet spaces” and anonymity (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic). This retreat is not a total disappearance but a strategic regrouping – they are finding ways to be present online without being exposed. In doing so, they draw boundaries that previous cohorts neglected, essentially teaching society new digital etiquette around consent and visibility.
• The New Face of Subjectivity: Lacan’s idea that our identity is tied to our mirror image is being challenged. Gen Z demonstrates that one can develop a personal brand or presence without a face, or with a fluid, ever-changing face. The object a (cause of desire) for them might be the mystery or the curated aesthetic rather than the photogenic face. This decoupling of self from face can be liberating (allowing them to focus on other qualities and creative outputs) but also raises questions: Will this generation have a different relationship to their own embodiment because of this? Some therapists note that avoiding looking at oneself can sometimes hinder self-acceptance – yet, forcing constant self-scrutiny is clearly harmful too. Gen Z seems to seek a healthier middle ground: use images playfully and artfully, but don’t tie self-worth to them. In a way, they are decentering the face in personal identity.
• Community and Authenticity Redefined: One of the most striking outcomes is how Gen Z has shifted the locus of authenticity from the individual image to the community experience and the narrative. Authenticity is found in sarcasm, in joint meme culture, in mutual vulnerability in private circles – not necessarily in showing an unedited face to the world. They’ve redefined “being real” to mean “being real with those I choose” rather than “showing everything to everyone.” This selective authenticity might actually be more authentic, because it recognizes the realities of context. They are debunking the social media myth that what’s posted publicly is one’s true self; instead, truth is contextual and relational.
• Global Convergence and Divergence: Across different regions, we observed converging trends toward anonymity and careful self-presentation. In North America and Europe, the conversation often centers on mental health and consent; in East Asia, anonymity is a long-standing cultural tech practice now amplified by youth tastes (Japan’s Top Social Media Platforms for 2025 – 10th Edition – Humble Bunny); in other regions like the Middle East, anonymity intersects with safety and custom. Gen Z globally share a digital environment and many cultural exports (TikTok dances, memes), pointing to a kind of global youth culture of digital nativity. It’s likely that norms around privacy and self-image will become more universally aligned toward the Gen Z way as this cohort occupies more of the cultural center stage worldwide.
• Ideological Implications: Žižek’s perspective helps us see that Gen Z’s facelessness can be interpreted as an ideological critique of the status quo. They implicitly reject the neoliberal idea that everyone should market themselves (the “personal brand”). In its place, they valorize opacity, ambiguity, and collaborative identity – which resist easy commodification. Even the way they consume content (favoring TikTok’s algorithmic discovery where creators are often ordinary peers, over celebrity-centric Instagram) hints at a desire for a different cultural logic. Some might worry that anonymity could reduce accountability or social cohesion, but Gen Z is showing that it’s possible to have vibrant communities built on shared interests and humor rather than personal fame. They might be forging an internet that is less about ego and more about content and connection. That said, as their attitudes become mainstream, corporations adapt – anonymity can be monetized or co-opted (we see anonymous Q&A apps that still track data, etc.). The push-pull will continue, but Gen Z has at least shattered the presumption that everyone wants to be an influencer with their face everywhere.
• Mental Health and Self-Concept: Early indicators suggest that Gen Z’s strategies may be a double-edged sword for mental health. On one hand, their reduced emphasis on selfies can alleviate some of the social comparison and body-image pressures that plagued millennials on social platforms (More than half of Millennials have taken a selfie. Older generations do not know what selfie is). On the other hand, if taken to extreme, social withdrawal or constant masking can exacerbate loneliness or identity diffusion. The key will be balance: using anonymity as a tool for empowerment, not as an escape from all social interaction. Encouragingly, many Gen Z do maintain rich social lives – they just don’t always document them publicly. And they are more open to discussing mental health challenges, meaning they may actively course-correct if certain practices make them unhappy. The Zoom dysmorphia phenomenon taught many about the distortions of cameras ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ) ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ), possibly instilling a healthier skepticism about images. Gen Z might tell themselves and each other: “Don’t take online images (including your own) too seriously – they’re not the whole you.” This mantra, if held, could mitigate some of the psychological harm of social media.
• Future Trajectories: As Gen Z becomes adults and Gen Alpha comes into teenage years, will the faceless trend persist or was it a youth phase? Some patterns may shift as responsibilities and roles change. For instance, will a Gen Z professional avoid putting a photo on LinkedIn? Possibly not, if it’s required – though maybe they will push LinkedIn towards more creative, less headshot-centric modes. Already, we see even in professional spheres, a bit more informality creeping in (cartoon avatars in email footers, etc.). Society at large might become more tolerant of people not wanting to show face in various contexts (like remote work or virtual classrooms allowing camera-off without stigma). We might also see improved tools for selective sharing – as demanded by this generation, tech companies could implement finer privacy controls, or social networks that operate on smaller scales (reviving the idea of personal webpages or closed networks vs one giant public square).

It’s also likely that post-selfie culture will produce new art and media. We might see novels, films, and art coming out about the themes of anonymity, identity play, and digital subjectivity, created by Gen Z artists reflecting on their experiences. In academic theory as well, this generation’s habits may inspire new theoretical developments beyond Lacan and Žižek – perhaps a reformulation of identity theory that accounts for multi-layered personas and “distributed self” across physical and digital realms.

In closing, Gen Z’s relationship with selfies and online identity can be seen as a corrective evolution of digital culture. They inherited a world of over-sharing and over-scrutiny, and their collective adjustments are teaching everyone how identity might be handled more delicately in the information age. The title of this report, “The Face Without a Place,” encapsulates the poignancy of this moment: the face, traditionally anchored in a place (a social context, a sense of stable identity), finds itself unmoored in a placeless digital expanse; in response, Gen Z often chooses to remove the face from that expanse (the face without a place is then no face in that space), in order to resolve the crisis of subjectivity that this placelessness created. They are proving that one can be present and heard, even influential, without always being seen.

Perhaps the lesson Gen Z offers is that subjectivity in the digital age thrives when it retains an element of the unseen, the private, the imaginative. By withdrawing the literal face, they open up symbolic space for personality, creativity, and genuine connection to emerge in less obvious ways. In a sense, Gen Z is putting the “I” back in “image” – reminding us that behind every picture (or avatar or post) is an I, a subject, who is more than what can be captured in pixels. And sometimes, protecting that “I” means not putting it on display for all to see.

As we move forward, stakeholders from parents to educators to platform designers would do well to heed Gen Z’s preferences. Encouraging healthy digital habits might mean encouraging the very things Gen Z is gravitating towards: smaller communities, consent in sharing, creativity over vanity, and respect for boundaries. In doing so, we might foster an internet culture that supports subjectivity rather than eroding it.

Gen Z’s faceless stance is a mirror held up to society – challenging us to reevaluate notions of visibility, privacy, and what it means to have a self in the digital era. In that mirror, we don’t see their faces clearly, but we do see a reflection of our collective digital anxieties and hopes. And perhaps, through their navigation of this imaginary crisis, Gen Z will help all of us find a healthier integration of our real and virtual selves.

Sources:

• Bandara, P. (2024). Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos. PetaPixel – Report on the “nose cover” trend among Gen Z and commentary from parenting experts (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel) (Generation Z Teens are Covering Their Faces in Family Photos | PetaPixel).
• Jennings, R. (2020). A taxonomy of Gen Z selfie poses. Vox – Analysis of TikTok visual trends and Gen Z’s ironic selfie habits (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox) (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox).
• Tiffany, K. (2022). The Personal Brand Is Dead: Gen Z would rather be anonymous online. The Atlantic – Examination of Gen Z’s retreat to anonymity, with examples like Tumblr resurgence and secret-sharing apps (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic) (Anonymity Online Is In – The Atlantic).
• Six Pixels of Separation (2023). The Sharenting Trap – The Rise of the Anti-Sharenting Movement – Discusses Gen Z’s push for privacy, legal considerations, and the impact of AI on digital legacy (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation) (The Sharenting Trap – The Rise Of The Anti-Sharenting Movement – Six Pixels of Separation).
• Pew Research Center (2018). Teens, Social Media & Technology – Survey data on teen social media behaviors; notable finding that ~45% of teens often/sometimes post selfies (girls more than boys) (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center) (1. Teens and their experiences on social media | Pew Research Center).
• Bharwana, A. (2021). “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic. Acta Biomedica – Letter highlighting increased cosmetic consultations due to video-call self-perception (82.7% of dermatologists’ patients unhappy with looks post Zoom) ( “Zoom Dysmorphia”: the rise of a new issue amidst the pandemic – PMC ).
• Muraro, M. (2023). Guide: How to Start a “Faceless” Instagram Account. YourSocialTeam Blog – Notes Gen Z’s desire for privacy and how faceless profiles remove appearance pressure (Guide: How to Start a “Faceless” Instagram Account for Your Small Business — Your Social Team).
• Humble Bunny (2025). Japan’s Top Social Media Platforms – 10th Edition – Provides stat that 45% of Japanese social media users prefer anonymity, highlighting cultural anonymity norms (Japan’s Top Social Media Platforms for 2025 – 10th Edition – Humble Bunny).
• Capture Photography Festival (2019). The Narcissistic Selfie (Guest Blog) – A psychoanalytic art critique noting “with the selfie, the mirror acquires agency” and describing the Imaginary of social media (GUEST BLOG POST: The Narcissistic Selfie – Capture Photography Festival) (GUEST BLOG POST: The Narcissistic Selfie – Capture Photography Festival).
• Monti, G. (2022). Nobody cares about “perfect” Instagram feeds anymore. NSS Magazine – Describes Gen Z Instagram as a “diary” of blurry photos and cringe memes, and notes success of photographers who never show themselves (Nobody cares about “perfect” Instagram feeds anymore) (Nobody cares about “perfect” Instagram feeds anymore).
• Additional sources include Reddit discussions, TikTok content observations, and academic works on selfies and digital identity for theoretical context (TikTok selfie faces are everywhere | Vox) (The selfie and the intolerable gaze of the Other – ResearchGate).