From meals to holidays and weddings, social media is reshaping how we experience life. Are we creating memories or performing for an audience?
THERE was a time when food arrived at the table and the first thing we did was eat.
Today, food must first earn its right to be consumed. The nasi lemak arrives but nobody touches the sambal. The teh tarik is poured but nobody drinks it. The birthday cake is cut but nobody celebrates yet.
Because first, we need a photo.
“Wait, don’t kacau first.”
“Take from this angle.”
“Can move the plate a bit?”
“Hold on, the lighting not nice.”
By the time the photo shoot is over, the only thing hot is our patience.
Welcome to the era where everything has become content.
In Malaysia, we have always loved sharing. Food, celebrations, family gatherings and special moments have always been part of our culture.
We are a nation that believes good food must be shared, open houses must be crowded and family milestones must be celebrated loudly. But somewhere along the way, sharing has become documenting.
A holiday is no longer just a holiday. It needs a full album, a TikTok transition and a caption reminding everyone that “life is beautiful”. A trip to Penang is incomplete without a photo at Armenian Street. A visit to Bali requires the perfect infinity pool picture.
Even a simple meal at a mamak has become a potential content at a mamak joint. The roti canai is not just roti canai anymore; it is “late-night supper vibes” with the right angle and background music.
And then there are Malaysian weddings. Once upon a time, guests came to eat, congratulate the couple and go home with a packet of bunga telur. Today, some weddings look like movie productions. There are pre-wedding videos, cinematic entrances, drone shots and photographers following every movement like it is a royal ceremony. Again, there is nothing wrong with celebrating love beautifully.
The problem comes when the moment itself becomes secondary to capturing it. Sometimes we are so busy recording happiness that we forget to actually feel it.
This obsession with content has also reached our children.
Many Malaysian parents proudly share every milestone – the first steps, first words, first day of school, birthday celebrations and achievements.
And honestly, who can blame them? Children are precious.
Every parent wants to freeze those beautiful moments before they disappear. But sometimes, we need to ask ourselves: Are we preserving memories or are we creating a performance?
Some children today have an online presence before they even understand what a camera is. Their funny reactions become videos, their tantrums become entertainment and their daily activities become a series of posts.
“Say this again.”
“Smile again.”
“Do that one more time.”
Sometimes childhood has to wait while the camera gets ready. It is not only children. All of us have become photographers, directors and social media managers for each other.
A friend wants a picture at a café and suddenly everyone becomes a professional photographer.
“Take another one.”
“Cannot, my eyes closed.”
“Again, but make me look natural.”
After 20 attempts, even the waiter starts wondering whether we are ordering coffee or filming a commercial. But perhaps the bigger issue is not that we are creating content.
Content creation has brought many good things: it has helped small Malaysian businesses grow; allowed home bakers, artists, entrepreneurs and creators to build careers; and helped important stories reach millions of people.
The problem is when everything – even private moments – starts needing an audience.
A kind act is recorded before it is completed. A family gathering becomes a photo session. A personal struggle becomes a public announcement. Even sadness sometimes comes with a camera facing us.
There is also a hidden pressure behind this culture. The pressure to look happy. To look successful. To look like life is always exciting.
But behind many perfect posts are tired parents, stressed creators and ordinary people trying their best to keep up with an algorithm that is never satisfied.
Maybe that is why many of us feel exhausted – because life itself has started feeling like a performance.
Perhaps some moments are still too precious to share: the laughter that happens when nobody is recording, the conversation over teh tarik that lasts for hours, the family dinner where everyone is too busy eating to take a photo, the moment our children look at us, not the camera.
Maybe the best memories are not always the ones with the most likes. Sometimes, the happiest moments are the ones that never made it online.
And perhaps, in a world where everything has become content, the most meaningful thing we can create is a moment that belongs only to us.
Hashini Kavishtri Kannan is the assistant news editor at theSun.
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