My name is Grace Atwood and I am an influencer. Yet now, as the coronavirus pandemic continues to spread around the world, being an influencer feels really weird and a little bit scary. I know what you’re thinking—how can it be that hard? But it is, especially as I want to set a good example for my followers, and I don’t want to influence anyone to make bad decisions or spend money they don’t have.
Influencing isn’t my side hustle or something I do just for fun. It can be fun, but it is my job and if I don’t do it, I can’t pay my rent. It’s not just sharing pretty photos on Instagram. I post to my blog six days a week, I have a podcast with weekly episodes, an email newsletter, and I spend a lot of time managing my social media channels (primarily Instagram and my blog’s Facebook group). During non-pandemic times I spend my time working with brands to develop cool ways to showcase their products in a format that my readers will enjoy. I work about 60 hours most weeks, sometimes more.
Influencing isn’t my side hustle or something I do just for fun. It can be fun, but it is my job and if I don’t do it, I can’t pay my rent.
When the shelter-in-place rules were first put into effect in New York, where I live, I was incredibly nervous to post my standard slew of sponsored content. On average, about 25 percent of my content is sponsored. It’s always disclosed and I am really conscious to make sure it’s never higher than that percentage. I also make money from banner advertising on my blog and affiliate links.
I was afraid of looking tone deaf and frivolous and of alienating my readers. But I have a year-long contract with Sephora (which I am eternally grateful for right now), and I had a sponsored post that needed to go up on my blog on March 17, right as things started to get bad. I was torn: Professionally, I was really proud of the post. But personally, it felt insensitive to suggest people buy things when I knew how many people were already struggling financially because of the pandemic.
I thought hard about the decision. I have to keep all of my own projects going so that I can pay my rent and buy groceries. I have savings from my job as an influencer but I do not have a trust fund or rich parents, and I wanted to keep paying the people who depend on me like my web design team, an SEO agency, my partnerships director, and my part-time assistant. Sponsorships allow me to do that.
Plus, I knew my finances were going to take a hit. I’ve had my blog for 10 years and March 2020 was on track to be the best month of my entire career—but not so after some of my sponsors moved or cancelled planned posts. In March, my income was about half what it typically would be—and that’s a generous assessment. April will likely be much worse.
Yet, my workload remains the same: Even though I don’t have very much sponsored content I still post other, unpaid content to my blog and Instagram every day. While I’m fortunate to still have campaigns with some great beauty and spirit brands, a lot have been cut. On my podcast, most of our advertisers have dropped out due to market uncertainty and the clothing line I was launching has been pushed out indefinitely. So was pretty much every fashion partnership. (I get it, though—no one really needs to buy high heels and party dresses right now. And to be honest, I just feel fortunate to even have any work at all when millions of people have filed for unemployment.)
I was honest with them—that we started working on this in January, that I love all the products but didn’t want them to feel pressured to shop, and that I did feel like my role in all of this was to be a distraction. I hit "publish" and prepared for the worst.
So I decided to publish the Sephora post. But prior to sending it out into the world, I went on my Instagram Story and explained the predicament to my audience. I was honest with them—that we started working on this in January, that I love all the products but didn’t want them to feel pressured to shop, and that I did feel like my role in all of this was to be a distraction. I hit "publish" and prepared for the worst.
The response from blog readers and Instagram followers blew me away. "No PLEASE keep posting, sponsored and non-sponsored!" "You are my favorite distraction." "More beauty products!" I was shocked but the messages encouraged me to keep going. Perhaps people do need distraction—as long as I'm able to do it while realizing that with influence comes responsibility. If you have a platform you should be held to a higher standard.
I know that if I make a mistake or act irresponsibly while social distancing, I'm going to be put under a microscope. Audiences are fickle and can think you’re the best one minute and the worst the next. I’ve learned the importance of keeping things real and honest—even if it's about the dread and uncertainty I feel related to the pandemic.
I know how lucky I am. I can do my job alone at home, styling, shooting, editing and publishing content all on my own. I'm learning how to take my photo using a remote (it’s the most awkward!), and am sharing things like book recommendations and columns on distracting things I love in addition to my regular fashion and beauty content. Like so many others who are homebound, I'm able to ride the waves of productivity but can also get depressed and just want to lay on the couch.
It's no secret that some influencers have made controversial choices in recent weeks, but I'm actually pretty down to get influenced by those who are using this time to make content that makes us all feel better: People like Ashley Spivey, who regularly reminds others to stay home and save lives, or Alisha Ramos and the Girls Night In team who created a whole social distancing care package. As important as Governor Cuomo's addresses are (seriously, I love them...and him), I'm finding it's actually these influencer accounts that are the most soothing and distracting, in a good way.
No one knows what the next month or even the next few days will bring, so for now, like many of my readers, I'm gonna do my best to pay my bills. I hope you don't mind.
***
This article originally appeared on Cosmopolitan.com. Minor edits have been made by the Cosmo.ph editors.
