The Invisible Man's Struggle with Selfie Culture
In an era defined by visual documentation and social media presence, how does someone without a visible physical form navigate the challenges of digital existence and personal identity?
As told to this publication by the Invisible Man himself (as verified by the floating pen that wrote this article):
Growing up, I always felt somewhat invisible—figuratively speaking, of course. Little did I know that one day, thanks to a regrettable combination of scientific curiosity and questionable chemical compounds, I would achieve literal invisibility. While this condition has its advantages (excellent for surprise parties, unmatched at hide-and-seek), navigating today’s selfie-obsessed social landscape presents unique challenges for those of us without visual presence.
The Profile Picture Predicament
The first hurdle any invisible person faces in the digital age is the dreaded profile picture request. Every platform demands visual representation, with increasingly sophisticated “real person” verification systems that seem specifically designed to discriminate against the visibly challenged.
I’ve tried various approaches:
The Empty Room Shot: A simple photograph of whatever background I happen to be standing against. This inevitably gets flagged as “suspicious activity” or mistaken for minimalist art.
The Floating Objects Approach: Pictures of my clothes hovering mysteriously in space. These tend to attract the wrong crowd—primarily ghost hunters and paranormal enthusiasts sending endless messages about “crossing over.”
The Creative Description: “Picture unavailable due to light refraction anomaly.” This works until friends comment, “Just use a filter like everyone else!”
I’ve settled for using photos of Claude Rains from the 1933 film adaptation of my condition. This has created confusion when meeting people in person (or as “in person” as one can be while invisible), particularly when they express disappointment that I don’t look like a classic Hollywood star.
Instagram Invisibility
The real challenge comes with platforms entirely predicated on visual content. Instagram, TikTok, and Snapchat might as well have “No Invisibles Allowed” signs posted at their digital doors.
My Instagram feed consists primarily of:
- Empty chairs captioned “Just chillin’ #Monday”
- Floating coffee cups with “Starting my day right! ☕”
- Doors opening mysteriously with “Making an entrance! #NoFilter (literally)”
My follower count remains stubbornly low, despite my extremely unique content. The algorithm clearly discriminates against those of us existing outside the visible light spectrum.
Dating App Disasters
Perhaps nowhere is visible privilege more apparent than in the realm of dating apps. I’ve experimented with honesty (“Scientist, enjoys long walks, completely invisible”) which attracts either skeptics or people with highly specific fetishes.
My most successful profile described my condition as “visually minimalist,” which secured several dates. These typically ended when my dinner companions realized they were indeed sitting across from an empty chair that occasionally lifted a wine glass.
The rare second dates have occurred with particularly open-minded individuals or those who appreciate the novelty of a floating dessert spoon addressing them with charming anecdotes.
Verification Woes
In an era increasingly concerned with identity verification, invisibility presents numerous bureaucratic challenges:
- Facial recognition software has nothing to recognize
- Video calls become existential exercises in trust
- “Confirm you are human” captchas feel personally attacking
I recently spent three hours trying to convince a customer service representative that I was indeed on camera during our troubleshooting session. “I can’t see anyone,” she repeatedly stated, to which I could only reply, “Exactly! That’s literally why I’m calling!”
The Authentic Self Paradox
The modern mantra of “showing your authentic self” online creates philosophical conundrums for the invisible community. What is authenticity when your authentic state is, by definition, unseeable? Is a picture of an empty couch with an indentation where I’m sitting more or less authentic than a digitally created approximation of what I might look like if visible?
Social media gurus advise “being seen” and “increasing visibility” to build your personal brand. These metaphors become painfully literal when applied to my circumstances. I’ve considered launching a personal brand around the concept of invisibility, but marketing consultants insist this lacks “visual appeal” and “shareable content potential.”
Invisible Influencing
Despite these challenges, I’ve carved out a niche as what might be called an “invisible influencer.” My YouTube channel, “The Invisible Review,” features products seemingly testing themselves. My most popular video, “Makeup Application When No One Can See You Anyway,” has garnered significant attention, particularly from philosophical communities debating whether it constitutes performance art or existential commentary.
I’ve received sponsorship offers from:
- Ghost VPN (“Because no one does privacy like someone no one can see”)
- Minimalist furniture brands (“The perfect backdrop for your non-appearance”)
- Halloween supply companies (offering year-round employment opportunities)
Finding Community
Perhaps the most meaningful development in my invisible journey has been connecting with others who feel unseen, whether literally or metaphorically. I moderate a support group called “Transparency Issues” for the invisibly challenged, which currently includes myself, a partially invisible man who didn’t get the formula quite right (his left ear and right pinky toe remain visible), and a woman who claims to become invisible only during tax season.
We share strategies for navigating a visually-dominated world and advocate for more inclusive practices, such as “presence indicators” rather than visual verification and alternative authentication methods that don’t require facial recognition.
Looking Forward (Figuratively)
As I navigate the complexities of existing without being seen in a world obsessed with visual documentation, I remain hopeful for greater understanding and accommodation. Technology continues to evolve, and perhaps someday social platforms will offer invisible-friendly features that allow us to participate fully in digital society.
Until then, I’ll continue my advocacy work, posting empty room selfies with inspirational captions about inner beauty, and experimenting with various clothing combinations that best suggest a human form while floating eerily through public spaces.
If you’d like to follow my invisible journey, you can find me on Instagram at @TheRealInvisibleMan—I’m the account with nothing in the photos except occasionally floating sunglasses and the persistent question from commenters: “Is this art or a glitch?”