Photograph by Fred Lahache / Connected Archives
Words by Anmol Irfan
Last year, when Mashal Mush posted about her wedding, one thing in particular stood out: this was the first desi wedding I’d seen where the bride was proudly sharing that she’d worn a pre-loved gown. It made me think about my own wedding a few months earlier—and about all the ways in which wedding culture promotes unsustainable consumerism. And so, I started following Mush soon after only to realize the impact just one person had on my shopping habits—I started putting shopping bans on myself, and reusing my outfits by pairing different elements together for different weddings I had to attend —by sharing their own efforts in sustainability.
This probably doesn’t come as a surprise. After all, that is the purpose of an influencer, right? Influencing others. But in a world of social media personalities pushing online shops, affiliate links, and the latest outfits and brand deals, just what exactly are we being influenced to do? And where does someone like Mush, whose aim is to promote consuming less, fit into the influencer economy?
Sustainability influencers or content creators—although the term is broad—largely encompass public personas online who create and post content to share the different ways in which we can advocate for or adopt more ethical lifestyle choices. For someone like Natalie Shehata, an “alternative educator” who posts about sustainable lifestyle changes, the term “content creator” doesn’t feel representative of their ambitions. “I think what’s interesting is when people see me as a content creator because I don’t see myself as one,” they told Atmos. “I think I’m an inspirer and an alternative educator. Also I wear many hats, and whatever avenue I’m working on I want to encourage people to think for themselves and go deeper.”
Shehata is not alone in her discomfort around the label. Navigating titles, like the term content creator, can be complicated, especially in the sustainability space where influencers are operating in a digital society that runs on algorithms that privilege ads and sponsored content over infographics about the climate crisis.
Seventy-one percent of social media users are more likely to purchase products based on social media referrals, according to research conducted by Global Web Index. Another study shows that over 40% of X users have made purchases as a direct result of a tweet from an influencer. After all, if a user looks at a product on social media, the algorithm will flood their feed with similar products, in turn encouraging users to buy more. Because almost every other post on Instagram is now an ad, products are brought to users’ attention who may not even have realized they were interested in buying them in the first place. Consequently, climate videos with no paid promotion that communicate the hard and painful truth of environmental collapse—along with other organic content—get deprioritized.
And so, many eco-influencers have been forced to find ways of working around the algorithm and its restrictions in efforts to influence sustainably and still stay true to their values.
“Sustainability influencer as a term is an oxymoron—and a fine line to walk,” said Brennan Kai, who uses her platform to advocate for sustainable eating. Though Kai can’t deny the importance of working with the algorithm, she’s selective—and skeptical—about promoting products. If she does deem a product worthwhile, she ensures she doubles down on content that raises awareness around food waste, including zero waste recipes—information that people can benefit from without buying.
“Sustainability influencer as a term is an oxymoron—and a fine line to walk.”
Kai also notes that the shift towards lifestyle tips—as opposed to product recommendations—has evolved along with her own personal journey as she’s seen first-hand what content works for both her page and herself. “In the beginning I was almost entirely focused on sustainable swaps or [sharing] products [my followers should] stop using, swap out or buy,” she said. “Since then, I’ve come to have a more holistic understanding of sustainability; that it’s not something you can buy. That doesn’t mean I don’t support sustainable products, but for me it’s about zooming out a bit and helping people take a sustainable-minded approach to daily life.”
But these aren’t easy decisions to make. According to Kai, promoting less consumerism still has a clear impact on her numbers and engagement. And as someone for whom content creation pays the bills, these numbers are anything but frivolous. It’s why she’s open to taking on paid collaborations even if the item she is promoting isn’t necessarily a sustainable product per se. The primary criteria is that the item can aid her or others in living sustainable lifestyles.
Mush takes a similar approach. With help from the hashtag #StylingNotShopping, she caters to her mainly Pakistani audience by advocating against fast fashion and raising awareness around the systems of not enoughness that leave many feeling they continuously need new clothes. “Understanding the local context and challenges there [is a big part of my job],” said Mush. “People are still trying to get by and make ends meet, so they may not have the resources—and sustainable brands are seen as expensive.” It’s why Mush reframes much of her content to be relatable, accessible, and easy-to-follow: a win for both her community—who can more seamlessly integrate her advice into their routines—and her engagement. After all, the more people can learn from and share her advice, the further her posts will travel.
Maintaining a balance between promoting ethical values and staying relevant on social media can be challenging. Not only does the algorithm love over-consumption, it also keeps changing. For Shehata, years of experience in content creation and work beyond the digital sphere has allowed her to rethink her relationship to social media. The solution to being a sustainability influencer isn’t frequency, she said, but rather what she described as “slow” media with relaxed posting times, a pace that’s also better suited to nurturing a slow lifestyle.
“When there’s constant noise and information coming from every direction, instead of mobilizing, that can freeze people,” said Shehata. “And I want people to feel like they can participate. What I do is plant the seed, and then people can come and get the nutrients they need to blossom. If I was always posting online—that’s not sustainable for me, and it’s not authentic to be making more and more noise.”
The constant noise can also come in the form of excessive brand opportunities. Because too many brands have become literate in effectively greenwashing their “responsible” capsule collections and “sustainable” product drops, eco-influencers need to actively research the products they are handed—and that includes difficult conversations that require greater transparency from brands. They also need to be sure of their mission, tone of voice, and niche, so as to ensure their content is benefiting their followers. “As an eco-content creator, you’re kind of between a rock and a hard place.,” said Kai. “There are deals I am offered where I have to write a pros and cons list and ask myself, Is this something I will use in everyday life? If the answer is yes, then I’ll consider promoting it. I have turned down big deals because my ethics don’t align.”
“Something I’m really trying to own in my messaging is embracing imperfect environmentalism. It’s a strategy that invites people into the movement.”
There’s no one-size-fits-all solution, and eco-content creators who try to stay away from brand opportunities and product deals need to find other ways to please the algorithm and secure visibility. Alyssa Barber, who focuses on community-based climate action, says her approach to navigating the algorithm comes from using powerful language, which she feels works as a hook that can at times be as effective as selling a product. The aim is for Barber to avoid promoting excessive products.
“Content creators will recommend products that fit into their [respective] criteria, that’s fine,” said Barber. “[But] we [can also] leverage the language available to us, using strong hooks, strong wording,” For instance: Barber credits the term “anti-haul,” which was coined by anti-consumerist beauty influencer Kimberly Clark, as being a big win for sustainability influencers—both with regard to their purpose-driven mission and in terms of amplifying their reach. The algorithm promotes the word “haul,” but instead of showing new clothes, eco-influencers share content that discourages viewers from buying excessively.
This approach doesn’t come without issues. Critics have called out this concept of “de-influencing” as a smart reimagination of influencer marketing. The idea is that influencers share “bad” products with their followers to build trust, only to then promote products that are, by contrast, considered “authentic” recommendations. This criticism doesn’t in any way target the intentions of those wanting to build more sustainable communities, but it does serve to highlight the product-based nature of social media.
That’s why the road to environmentalism is different for everyone, as each person navigates the restrictions of social media as best they can. While Barber focuses on what she describes as a “new lifestyle” with content geared towards individual action, Lauren Bash is focused on demanding systemic change. And she relies on skills she’s developed from her time working in video production to create engaging and educational content that she routinely shares with her 127,000 followers.
“It wasn’t until this year I found what my lane is—because climate and sustainability covers a lot of ground,” Bash told Atmos. “There’s a bunch of strategies you can take when communicating, for example, some of my friends will share climate news. What works for me is taking climate jargon and breaking it down for [my followers].”
The reality is that environmental influencing can be messy; the journey is often imperfect, and most eco-content creators will be the first to admit this. Working against the very algorithm that drives their work is hardly easy, and all of them are quick to point out that they, too, are learning along with their followers. Not only does it make their journeys more honest, but also more relatable—because in a world that is built on fast-accelerating consumerism, slowing down is perhaps one of the most difficult shifts we can make.
“Something I’m really trying to own in my messaging is embracing imperfect environmentalism,” said Bash. “It’s a strategy that invites people into the movement. And what that looks like [in practice] in the environmental content creation space is flaunting our imperfections; making environmentalism more attainable.”
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Can Content Creation Be Sustainable?
