That’s So Relatable: Why We’re Obsessed With Being Perceived

That’s So Relatable: Why We’re Obsessed With Being Perceived

You know that feeling when you see a TikTok of someone documenting their "highly specific" 3:00 PM anxiety spiral and you realize, wait, everyone actually does that? That’s the core of why that's so relatable became the defining phrase of the 2020s. It isn't just about memes. It’s a desperate, digital-age search for "me too" in a world where we’re all increasingly isolated behind glass screens.

Honestly, the bar for relatability has shifted. Five years ago, a celebrity was "relatable" if they ate a slice of pizza in a ballgown. Now? That feels fake. Performative. Today, being relatable means showing the messy, unedited, and slightly embarrassing parts of the human experience that we used to hide.

The Science of Why We Crave Relatability

Biologically, our brains are wired to seek out reflections of ourselves in others. It’s called "mirroring," and it’s a survival mechanism. When we say that's so relatable, we’re basically signaling to our tribe that we share the same reality. According to a study published in Nature Communications regarding social media psychology, "self-disclosure" on social platforms triggers the same pleasure centers in the brain as food or money.

But there is a catch.

The digital version of relatability is often a curated mess. You’ve seen the "day in my life" videos where the creator wakes up at 5:00 AM, drinks greens, and journals. Then they post a clip of them crying about being overwhelmed. People flood the comments with "this is so relatable," but is it? Or is it just another form of aesthetic branding? True relatability usually happens in the mundane. It’s the shared frustration of a "no-reply" email or the collective panic of realizing you left the stove on.

Why Gen Z Rejects the Polished Look

The shift toward the "ugly" aesthetic—blurry photos, photo dumps, and raw venting—is a direct reaction to the "Instagram Face" era of 2016. We’re tired of perfection. It’s exhausting to look at. Research from the American Psychological Association has consistently shown that viewing idealized images leads to lower self-esteem.

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Consequently, we’ve pivoted.

We want the grit. We want the person who forgot to do their laundry for three weeks. This is why creators like Emma Chamberlain became global icons. She didn't pretend to be a polished star; she vlogged from her bed with a breakout and a coffee. That was the moment the internet decided that being "cool" was out and being that's so relatable was the only currency that mattered.

The Economic Value of Being Relatable

In the business world, relatability is worth billions. Brands are no longer trying to be aspirational; they're trying to be your best friend. Look at the Duolingo owl on TikTok. It’s unhinged. It’s chaotic. It’s relatable because it taps into the specific, weird humor of the internet rather than acting like a faceless corporation.

  • Influencer Marketing: A 2023 report by Influencer Marketing Hub found that "micro-influencers" (those with smaller, more niche followings) often have much higher engagement rates than A-list celebrities. Why? Because they feel like real people you could actually know.
  • The "Flawsome" Trend: This is a marketing term for brands that embrace their flaws to appear more human. When a brand admits they messed up, it makes them more likable.

However, there’s a fine line between authentic connection and "cringe" marketing. When a 50-year-old CEO tries to use "no cap" in a LinkedIn post, the relatability factor dies instantly. It feels like "Fellow Kids" meme energy. You can't force the vibe.

When Relatability Becomes Toxic

We have to talk about the dark side. Sometimes, the obsession with being that's so relatable leads to a race to the bottom of who can be the most "struggling."

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Trauma dumping has become a major issue on platforms like TikTok and X (formerly Twitter). In an effort to be seen as authentic and relatable, some users share deeply personal, traumatic experiences without a filter. While this can foster community, it can also lead to "compassion fatigue" among followers. Expert Dr. Sherry Turkle, a professor at MIT, has written extensively about how digital intimacy can be a "simulacrum" of real connection. We feel like we know these people, but we don't. We're just relating to a 15-second version of their pain.

  1. The Comparison Trap: Even relatable content can make you feel bad. If you see someone being "relatably messy" but their house is still beautiful and they're wearing $200 loungewear, it creates a new, unattainable standard of "perfectly imperfect."
  2. The Echo Chamber: We tend to only "relate" to people who look, think, and act like us. This shrinks our worldview.

The Evolution of Slang and Identity

Language moves fast. What was "relatable" yesterday is "cheugy" today. The phrase that's so relatable is actually starting to age out in some circles, replaced by "real" or "literally me." These linguistic shifts happen because as soon as a phrase becomes too mainstream—think "girlboss" or "on fleek"—it loses its power to signify an "in-group" connection.

Slang is a social handshake.

When you use the right terms, you're saying, "I'm part of this culture." If you get it wrong, you're an outsider. This is why brands spend so much money on "cultural consultants" just to make sure they don't use a word that went out of style three months ago. It’s a high-stakes game of keeping up.

How to Actually Connect Without Being Cringe

If you’re a creator, a brand, or just someone trying to exist online without feeling like a bot, the key isn't trying to be "relatable." It’s being specific.

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Generic relatability is boring. "Don't you hate Mondays?" is a snooze. But saying, "Don't you hate it when you're on a Zoom call and your cat starts screaming at a ghost in the corner?"—that's specific. That’s a real moment.

People don't relate to the broad strokes; they relate to the tiny, weird details of life.

Actionable Steps for Authentic Communication

Stop trying to curate the "perfectly messy" life and just exist. If you want to tap into the power of shared experience, focus on these shifts:

  • Move from Aspiration to Validation: Instead of showing people what they should be, show them that what they already are is okay.
  • Use Humor as a Bridge: Self-deprecating humor is the fastest way to break the ice. It signals that you don't take yourself too seriously.
  • Acknowledge the Context: Don't pretend you're "just like everyone else" if you have significant advantages. True relatability requires honesty about your own position.
  • Listen More Than You Post: Relatability is a two-way street. Read the comments. See what people are actually struggling with. Don't guess.

The bottom line is that that's so relatable isn't just a phrase; it's a symptom of a world that feels increasingly disconnected. We use it to find our way back to each other. Whether it's through a meme about iced coffee or a vulnerable post about mental health, we're all just looking for proof that we aren't alone in the chaos.

Instead of chasing the trend, focus on the truth. The most relatable thing you can be is yourself, even if that self is a little weird, a little messy, and totally un-curated. That is where the real connection happens.

Check your recent posts. Are you sharing because it’s true, or because you think it’ll get a "me too" in the comments? Shift your focus toward genuine storytelling rather than trend-hopping. People can smell a "relatability play" from a mile away. Stay weird, stay specific, and stop worrying about the aesthetic of your struggle. The internet has enough "perfect" messes; what it needs is more people who are actually real.