In this episode, we unpack why “influencer” has become a dirty word and explore the hidden psychology behind influencer hate, online criticism, and the way women’s success is judged in the digital age. We discuss whether society holds female creators to a different standard, the connection between visibility and misogyny, why women with platforms often become targets, and how we can separate valid accountability from unfair judgement.

Phi dives into social media culture, female entrepreneurship, beauty and lifestyle industries, jealousy, authenticity, ambition, and why women who build careers from their voice, personality, creativity, and communities can provoke such strong reactions. Is influencer criticism really about the content, or does it reveal something deeper about how we view successful women?

Resources from today's episode

Introduction Influencer Misogyny

I saw a post recently that said something that genuinely made me stop and think:

“Sometimes hating influencers is actually a socially acceptable form of subtle misogyny.”

And I know that sentence is going to trigger people.

Because “influencer” has become one of those words that people love to hate.

It’s almost become an insult.

Someone says, “She’s an influencer,” and there’s often an assumption attached:

She’s fake.

She’s shallow.

She has no real skills.

She’s obsessed with herself.

She just takes photos and gets free things.

And I want to unpack this because I think there is a much bigger cultural conversation happening underneath the influencer hate.

Now, before anyone thinks this episode is “defending all influencers,” that’s not what I’m saying.

There are absolutely valid criticisms of influencer culture.

There are conversations around authenticity, consumerism, advertising transparency, privilege, overconsumption, unrealistic beauty standards, and people selling lifestyles that may not reflect reality.

Those conversations matter.

But I think we also need to ask ourselves:

Why has “influencer” become such a specifically loaded word?

And why are so many of the people who receive the most intense criticism women?

Rise of the Influencer

Let’s go back.

The word influencer didn’t always exist in the way it does today.

Before social media, we already had people influencing culture.

Celebrities influenced fashion.

Athletes influenced brands.

Actors sold products.

Musicians created trends.

Magazines told us what beauty looked like.

Advertising executives literally built entire careers around influencing consumer behaviour.

But when everyday people, especially women, started building businesses online through their personalities, suddenly the conversation changed.

A woman creating content from her bedroom, building a community, monetising her knowledge, selling products, creating businesses, or making money through her personal brand was often dismissed.

“She just posts online.”

But that sentence is interesting.

Because historically, women’s work has often been minimised when it exists in spaces traditionally associated with femininity.

Beauty.

Fashion.

Lifestyle.

Relationships.

Wellness.

Community.

Emotional labour.

Things that women have always been doing, but society often doesn’t assign the same value to.

Why Does “Influencer” Feel Like a Dirty Word?

think one of the reasons the word influencer has become so controversial is because it challenges traditional ideas of what “real work” looks like.

There is still a belief that if you are not exhausted, struggling, or hidden behind a corporate title, then somehow your success is less legitimate.

There is this idea that work only counts if it looks like suffering.

And I think influencers disrupted that.

They said:

What if my creativity is my job?

What if my personality is part of my business?

What if building trust and community is valuable?

And that makes some people uncomfortable.

Because suddenly the person who was considered “ordinary” can create wealth, influence culture, and build a career without needing traditional approval.

Influencer Genders

I think the misogyny conversation becomes interesting.

Because when we look at who gets targeted most heavily, it is often women.

Women who post beauty content.

Women who share motherhood content.

Women who talk about relationships.

Women who create lifestyle content.

Women who are visible.

And visibility has always been something women are punished for.

A woman who is too quiet is ignored.

A woman who is too confident is arrogant.

A woman who shares herself is attention seeking.

A woman who monetises herself is fake.

There is this impossible standard where women are expected to be visible enough to inspire others, but not so visible that people accuse them of wanting attention.

And I think that contradiction is worth examining.

Because sometimes the criticism is not actually about what someone is doing.

Sometimes it is about discomfort with a woman taking up space.

Influencer Accountability

Now, I want to be really clear.

Not all criticism of influencers is misogyny.

That would be an unfair argument.

Women can absolutely be criticised.

People with platforms should be held accountable.

If someone promotes harmful products, lies to their audience, exploits vulnerable people, or creates unrealistic expectations, those are important conversations.

Influence comes with responsibility.

But the question is:

Are we criticising the behaviour?

Or are we criticising the identity?

Because there is a difference.

Saying:

“I disagree with this person promoting this product”

is different from:

“She’s just an influencer, what do you expect?”

The second one dismisses an entire category of work.

Influencer Jealousy

Another thing I think is fascinating is how often influencer criticism is tied to resentment.

People will say:

“She doesn’t deserve that.”

“She just got lucky.”

“She just takes photos.”

And sometimes there is a deeper question underneath:

Why does she get to have that?

Why does she get paid for something I don’t value?

Why does she have freedom I don’t have?

And I think it’s important to acknowledge that jealousy is human.

But sometimes society has a strange way of expressing discomfort with women’s success.

We rarely say:

“That male CEO is annoying because he posts about his lifestyle.”

We rarely question whether a famous male athlete “deserves” their platform because people enjoy watching them.

But when a woman builds a career around her image, personality, taste, or community, suddenly there is a different level of suspicion.

Double Standard of Visibility

I also think there is a fascinating double standard around authenticity.

Influencers are often accused of being fake.

But every profession involves presentation.

A lawyer presents themselves professionally.

A CEO manages their public image.

A politician carefully crafts their messaging.

A celebrity has a public persona.

The difference is influencers often blur the line between personal and professional.

They are selling trust.

Their audience feels like they know them.

And that creates a unique responsibility.

But it also creates a unique vulnerability.

Because people feel entitled to judge them as if they are a friend.

Maybe the question isn’t:

“Are influencers good or bad?”

Maybe the question is:

“Why does a woman making money from her personality provoke such a strong reaction?”

Why do we celebrate someone becoming famous through traditional channels, but question someone who builds an audience directly?

Why do we respect certain forms of influence but dismiss others?

And why does being visible as a woman still come with so much punishment?

On Close

I think the healthiest place to land is nuance.

Influencers are not above criticism.

They are people with platforms, and platforms come with responsibility.

But criticism becomes dangerous when we stop looking at actions and start attacking entire categories of people.

Because sometimes what looks like criticism of an industry can reveal deeper beliefs about whose work we value.

And maybe the reason “influencer” became such a dirty word is because it represents something bigger:

Women creating their own opportunities.

Women building businesses from their voices.

Women deciding they don’t need traditional permission to be successful.

And that is a conversation worth having.

Because maybe the question isn’t just:

“Why do we hate influencers?”

Maybe it’s:

“Why do we struggle so much with women who influence?”

Phi Dang