Who’s Responsible for What We See on Social Media?

“Social media’s no good. We’d all be better off without it.” Another guy at the table disagreed. “Nah, there’s heaps of good stuff on there.”

The conversation drifted on for another few minutes before someone changed the subject. Nobody convinced anyone else. They rarely do. Conversations about social media often end where they began, because it’s one of those topics that can cover everything while pointing to nothing in particular.

Part of the reason, I think, comes down to something simple: “social media” feels like one thing, but it’s actually made up of many interconnected parts—the design of platforms, the various creators who produce the content, the rules and regulations governing the system, and the people who use it in everyday life—all of which influence one another in different ways at different times.

This piece focuses on one relationship that often gets blurred in conversations about social media and body image: the relationship between the platform that shows the content and the creators who made it.

One feed, many hands

Open a social media app and what you see looks like a single, continuous stream. That’s the point of a feed: it pulls together posts from a personal trainer, a fashion label, a friend, a stranger’s activism and a health campaign, then stitches them into a single scrolling “runway.” It feels like one unified thing; the seams don’t show, so we often talk about it that way.

But that apparent unity can blur something important. The platform doesn’t create every post, style every photograph or write every caption. Content creators—businesses, influencers, institutions, organisations and everyday users—do, each making choices that can influence how bodies are represented and experienced, whether they intend to or not.

A feed isn’t a neutral, transparent window onto the world; it’s a curated selection, organised by systems designed to predict what will keep someone scrolling. Now, if those systems consistently amplify some representations of the body over others, that’s an outcome of design choices, and it deserves scrutiny in its own right. But it’s a different question from who created the representation in the first place.

Creators are responsible for the images and messages they produce and for how they choose to circulate them. Platforms are responsible for the systems that organise, target and amplify them.

Of course, those responsibilities overlap. For instance, social media platforms set the conditions within which content circulates, and creators can use those systems in ways that work to their advantage. The point isn’t to pretend they operate separately, but to be clearer about who made which choices.

Why the distinction matters

When we collapse all of this into one thing and simply talk about what we’ve seen on “social media,” the platform can become the explanation for everything that appears.

Take two examples that point in opposite directions. An established fashion magazine produces narrow, edited images of the “ideal” body and now uses social media to extend the reach of images it’s been circulating for years. A grassroots body positivity account, meanwhile, uses the same platform to share representations of bodies that have often been excluded, so audiences can come across body types they might otherwise rarely see.

Both use the same platform, but they are doing very different things. They tell different stories, make different bodies visible, and invite us to see ourselves and others in different ways.

If “social media” simply absorbs the blame or credit for both examples, we can lose sight of the questions that matter most: who created this image, why this body, what interests are shaping the representation, and who benefits if I accept the invitation it’s making?

Instead, we’re left with the much thinner claim that “social media is good” or “social media is bad.” That doesn’t just let the magazine off lightly or undersell the advocacy work. It flattens two very different acts of representation into a single explanation, even though we should be asking different questions of each.

Scrolling forward

So, is social media good or bad for body image? The honest answer is: it really depends. To get beyond that, we need to be precise about which part of social media we mean.

I’ll admit to being genuinely torn about what follows from that. There’s a strong argument that what’s really needed is structural change: different incentives for platforms, clearer accountability for those who produce idealised or potentially harmful representations, and a serious rethink of how body image experiences are being shaped at scale. That change matters, and it won’t happen quickly.

But we’re also living right now, not at some future point once those structures have been dealt with. So alongside the larger argument, it’s worth asking a few questions about the image in front of you today: who made it, what am I being asked to believe about my body, and does accepting that help or hinder what I’m actually trying to do with it?

None of this lets platforms off the hook. Their systems shape what we see, what gains attention, and which representations become more visible. But the creators making that content matter too. Collapse both into “social media,” and it becomes harder to see who is responsible for what.

Your body is for living your life. It’s worth knowing who’s asking you to see and experience it in a particular way.


This article does not constitute personalised advice or professional consultation. For personalised assistance, please consult with a relevant professional. The opinions expressed are solely my own and do not necessarily reflect any organisation’s or individual’s views.

Leave a comment

About Me

Hiya, I’m Darren, a Kiwi writer and researcher exploring how contemporary life shapes the way we experience our bodies and body image.

Through my writing, I bring together ideas from media, psychology, sociology, and body studies to better understand the influences that shape everyday bodily experience.

My hope is to encourage curiosity, critical thinking, and a richer conversation about what it means to live in a body.