How To: Live Vicariously Through Better Skilled YouTubers
An essay dedicated to the Internet, the kindest of teachers
Becca Masker
I was two years old before I was able to walk unaided. In their panic, my parents took me to a doctor who diagnosed me as simply “lazy.” The early years of my life were defined by my struggle to reach the same physical milestones as the other kids in my class. I was terrible at ball games. I couldn’t ride a bike without stabilizers until I was 10. I was the oldest kid in my ballet class and then again in my swim class. I was always the last in every race on sports day. My other classmates regularly made fun of how I ran, flapping my arms with every stride like I was trying to take off. So naturally, I found solace in the activities that allowed me to avoid any kind of movement—drawing, reading, and watching YouTube videos on my dad’s computer. They became my safe space.
I relied on my mum to do my hair until I was 11. On school trips, my friends would have to brush and plait my hair for me. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t get the same look as the other girls in my classes. My messy buns would sag throughout the day and evoked a “dragged through the bush” aesthetic instead of the cool, effortless Effie-from-Skins look I was going for. My mascara would smudge, and any make-up attempt with my Barry M eyeshadow palette would result in panda eyes. Finally, out of desperation, I turned to my dad’s computer and typed “how to do make-up” into Google.
Tanya Burr
Louise Pentland
On the videos tab, I discovered Michelle Phan. Then Tati Westbrook, Zoella, Tanya Burr, and Louise Pentland. And suddenly, I was away. I learnt how to do a smokey eye, what lipstick suited my skin tone, and how to do my make-up like Effy Stonem, Emma Watson, Selena Gomez, and Alexa Chung. I was obsessed. What came so effortlessly to my friends, I could now re-watch and practice in the quiet of my own home until I finally got it right. The shame I felt about not being able to do basic motor skills subsided because now I could learn at my own pace, and even better, I was able to participate.
However, as we moved from the 2000s into the 2010s, the cultural dominance of the Kardashians took over, and the grungy Alexa Chung-inspired makeup that I could replicate with ease was replaced by the highly contoured Instagram face. Despite the confusing amount of powders and creams available, my hands couldn’t create the right contours, and I couldn’t do a cut crease to save my life. Instead of the simplicity and ease I was used to, I would get sensory overload from the amount of product on my face. Plus, most of the time, I was using the wrong foundation for my complexion, so I just ended up looking orange. With the changing trends in beauty, I moved on from makeup tutorials but kept watching YouTube in other categories.
Hannah Hart
Jenn Im
I watched fashion YouTubers like Jenn Im and their Jeffrey Campbell heels. Then onto cooking channels with Hannah Hart and her “My Drunk Kitchen” series. I watched videos of people chopping onions and would practice with my mum’s blunt kitchen knives until I could recreate a rough approximation. The How-To Youtubers were always much kinder than my IRL teachers—I could replay them repeatedly, and they would never get mad or frustrated. I could watch their hands often until I could copy the same movement. They were more personable and engaging. They were more than happy to show me their mistakes—in fact, their mistakes made the videos more entertaining and the endings more satisfying. I learnt how to carry myself and style myself, so I could give the appearance that I didn't feel so awkward and alien in my body.
When I went to university, the physical pressure of academic work, household chores and working part-time hospitality proved immense. I was always behind or forgetting about some tasks. I frustrated managers because it took me twice as long as any employee to complete any physical task they set me. I had always suffered from migraines, but they became frequent and more intense. As a result, I retreated more and more into watching YouTube. I turned to gardening videos, carpentry, home renovations, and sewing videos, even though I had no intention of ever pursuing these projects. Seeing people, do work successfully distracted me from the stresses of my own life. Watching people being productive made me feel productive, even if I was rotting away in bed watching videos on my laptop.
During a creative writing class, we did a handwritten task for other students to review. Unfortunately, my writing sample proved illegible to all my fellow students. My tutor kept me after class and recommended I get tested for dyslexia. After an online test and multiple in-person assessments, I was diagnosed with dyspraxia or Developmental Coordination Disorder instead. Typically diagnosed in children, dyspraxia affects your ability to perform physical tasks. There is no cure or medication; the only treatment is breaking down difficult movements into smaller parts and practising them regularly. Something I had been teaching myself using YouTube the whole time. I got extra time for my exams and was sent on my way.
There is very little support for adults with dyspraxia, with most treatment focusing on children. Dyspraxia even used to be previously called “clumsy child syndrome.” Yet, it still affects people beyond childhood, especially when learning new skills at work or home. While the focus is on coordination development, it also severely affects the social and emotional skills of the person it affects. The “clumsiness” of people with dyspraxia often results in a feeling of personal failing, embarrassment and social anxiety. I have not ridden a bike in years for fear of hurting myself or someone else. When I visit European cities with friends who want to go on bike tours, I have learnt to recuse myself from a perfectly timed migraine.
I still watch the ‘How To’ videos as an escape. Over the pandemic, I got into homesteading videos for a while before the evangelical undertones became too spooky. My TikTok FYP page is full of videos of people creating elaborate meals and makeup looks with the snap of their fingers. Yet, I do not find these videos as helpful as the YouTube videos. They are more complicated—and sometimes impossible—to pause or rewind. Steps are often skipped or done off-screen, and I can only view them on my phone instead of on a larger screen.
I have begun to question the false sense of productivity these videos make me feel. I know that the creators of these videos do immense amounts of testing and lighting and editing to make their videos look effortless, to make it seem like you can accomplish what they have. But I have become increasingly frustrated that the meal or my makeup doesn't look the same when I attempt it. I yearn to return to the slower, longer-paced videos, but my brain has been re-wired by my FYP, and I feel I can no longer concentrate for that long anymore. Perhaps I should go cold turkey and break up with the ‘How To’ genre.
But then, how else will I learn?
