How Instagram Fostered Recession-Ready Scams, Dressed as Female Empowerment (Part I)
In the midst of Covid-19, Instagram has provided a haven from reality and a familiar platform for users to stabilise their incomes via entrepreneurship and the exchange of handmade products and homegrown knowledge. This summer, influencer Sarah Akwisombe claimed to have made £1 million in a matter of months by selling business courses and coaching to fellow women via the platform. Now, dozens are demanding refunds and questioning her sales tactics. In this two-part series, Raise The Bar explores claims that faux-feminist spaces are exploiting women using tactics derived from problematic MLM schemes. Is this tried and tested scam now alive and well on Instagram?
10 years ago, a new social media app called Instagram launched. In its infancy, it emerged as a place to share cute, filtered photos of friends, pasta bakes and innuendo-heavy street signs. As the years progressed, so did the app. The photo-focused platform added video sharing capabilities, 24-hour ‘Stories’, the layering of music and text and the ability to interact instantly via polls and question boxes. As young Facebook users experienced the dismay of friend requests from their weird Uncle Kev, it provided a haven. By 2018, Instagram reached 1 billion monthly users. Those who took shelter from the prying eyes of older relatives today make up its largest user demographic; 65% are aged 18-34.
But Instagram’s evolution has been mired with doubts about its ethics and intentions. Ex-employees of various social media giants have admitted that these apps were designed (and are maintained) to be addictive. Following a decision in 2015 to open up the feed to anyone willing to pay, up to one in four posts is now an advert. Accusations of a bullying culture and posts encouraging self-harm and eating disorders have proliferated. And, using carefully guarded and ever-changing algorithms, the site rewards some with increased visibility, while deleting images it deems inappropriate (including the apparent censoring of black women’s bodies earlier this year).
“Instagram presents itself as a tonic”
Despite its myriad issues, Instagram presents itself as a tonic. And, when the news broke early this year that a pandemic was headed for the UK, followed by that of a nationwide lockdown, Instagram offered itself up as a haven once again. Nothing brought the contrast between frightening reality and soothing visuals into sharper focus more than Covid-19. Death, isolation and fear could in one click be replaced by beautiful images, stunning videos and cathartic memes. Inside a filter bubble partially of their own making, users could scroll endlessly through their perfect world.
Instagram has held onto its brand identity as both a tonic and a haven, but while its offering looks the same, it is at its core very different. Pedestrian photos from friends who want to share their day now jostle for space not just alongside traditional adverts, but Italian food posted by a high-end restaurant and aspirational home interiors shared by a furniture manufacturer.
It is likely the case that most people you follow outside of your social circle on Instagram are benefiting from your attention, either through monetisation strategies or the social power it gives them. But the habit of daily checks has been solidified, as has the craving for safety and familiarity. Both lure us back. It makes it difficult to recognise that what was once a meeting place for our friends is today a sales platform.
It’s here that we find the influencer. It is an influencer’s job to intentionally create appealing content that aims to grab and hold your attention in order to sell something. Instagram has created a seamlessness to influencing that makes the original home of the practise, YouTube, look clunky and unintuitive. Those with the aesthetic and clout to sell coexist in a much more concentrated manner. And, unlike the elevated, distant podium that many celebrities sit a-top, influencers are accessible; interactivity is not just possible, but instantaneous. If a consumer wants what is on sale, they can simply ‘swipe up’ or hit the ‘link in bio!’.
“For the most part, influencers are women selling to other women. And when a fair exchange takes place, this is significant progress for women’s economic power.”
The gender split on Instagram is pretty even; at 51.2%, women only just outnumber men. But when you move into the realm of Instagram as an influencer’s tool, it’s a women’s game. The Business of Apps notes that “female influencers aged 18-34 claim over 50% of influencer interactions and 45% of influencer followers,” adding that the most-followed influencers are “females aged 25-34, who claim nearly 25% of Instagram influencer followers.” For the most part, influencers are women selling to other women. And when a fair exchange takes place, this is significant progress for women’s economic power.
Instagram’s role as a safe, empowering space for women is by no means a new phenomenon. It’s been building for several years now, slowly but surely. Crucially, these spaces are led and populated by fellow women. Female users can be creative on their own terms and authentic in their aesthetic. They can also be heard. Mansplaining, interruptions, inappropriate comments or condescension from men are, for the most part, locked out. With ample cheerleading, women can try their hands in areas that have traditionally been a man’s game. Business, finances and entrepreneurship, traditionally patriarchal spaces that have long been exclusionary to women, entered the picture.
When Covid-19 hit, the worldwide crisis was felt through its very personal and intimate nature. Finances, careers, livelihoods and lifestyles were at best shaken and at worst destroyed. When the first national lockdown began in March and in-person interactions were limited, if not banned, the world moved online. As the term zoom transformed from an adjective to a noun and friends nagged us to download something called House Party, Instagram’s crucial demographic of young to early middle-age women were getting creative.
“Out of economic uncertainty, innovation and perhaps a tinge of panic, Instagram burst to life with business innovation”
A collision of circumstances occurred. Instagram’s pre-established familiarity and myriad features designed for connectivity, accessibility, monetising and selling met with a sudden need for income and financial stability. Those beginning to realise that they could be entrepreneurs and businesswomen themselves had to simply adopt the tried-and-tested models of audience engagement established by influencers they’d witnessed working for years. Out of economic uncertainty, innovation and perhaps a tinge of panic, Instagram burst to life with business innovation. Artists with small boutiques set up robust customer and delivery services: florists taught flower-arranging, bookshops reviewed their wares and musicians shared new songs via Lives. Inspired by one another’s ideas and actions, women were able to reach their target audience instantly and to express their creativity and identity using a mixed media of photos, videos and text. They became influencers in their own right.
Stats back up the theory; 2020 has been a record year for the creation of new companies, and it’s in e-commerce that the biggest growth has occurred: up 88% compared to 2019. Using this free tool, new income streams were ripe for the taking. So too was the opportunity for a new challenge and both personal and professional growth. The appeal was abundant.
To those willing to pivot their careers, or try something new entirely, there were two distinct selling pathways available: product and service. The first is the category that boob-shaped mugs, macrame plant hangers and hand-drawn art fall into. In these cases, the exchange is tangible; money and physical product changed hands. There is clear value for everyone, and consumer laws in place for protection.
The selling of a service, knowledge or information, however, is far more elusive. Traditionally, we have established ways to pin down such things and their ephemeral nature. Consider universities; money is exchanged for knowledge. Said knowledge is crystallised by the orderly environment in which it’s delivered: qualifications, training, classrooms, materials and grades. This process stands alongside signifiers of legitimacy; delivery comes from a lecturer who might have authored a dozen books on their topic, holds a relevant PhD and is well-regarded by equally eminent colleagues. Arising issues are taken to department heads, HR departments or unions. Complaints trigger a chain of events to establish the wronged party.
“Looking at all the evidence, it’s clear that pockets of exploitation were inevitable”
In the sphere of Instagram, none of these elements is mandatory. Some aren’t even expected. There are no legal or ethical requirements for formal training or qualifications. There are no HR departments, which makes accountability challenging. There is simply an entirely unregulated business. The Instagrammer at the helm decides themselves whether or not they are sufficiently qualified to sell what they sell. They decide how they will monetise their communities, and whether their price point is fair. Looking at all the evidence, it’s clear that pockets of exploitation were inevitable.
Business and financial coaching, an offering that falls firmly into the second of the two sales categories above, is an area that has proliferated on Instagram at high-speed this year. Looking for advice or guidance of this nature as the pandemic unfolded, women looked to be nurtured and inspired, not patronised or made to feel stupid. Leaning into fellow women on Instagram who looked like them and spoke like them, who could also give them what they were after, was to be expected. Instagram, after all, has cultivated an app that fosters connections and networks. Why learn from someone who has nothing in common with you, and none of the same goals, when you can learn from a fellow woman who has identical goals and the life you envision for yourself? The fact is, formal qualifications or recognised training is of little significance if it is held by somebody you don’t want to learn from.
Much of the female-led business and coaching services found today on Instagram are aimed at ambitious, tenacious young women who want to build a fulfilling, rewarding life for themselves. This describes followers of influencer Sarah Akwisombe perfectly. Akwisombe claims to have made £1 million between March and September 2020 by selling business courses and coaching via both her personal Instagram and her No Bull Business School account, which have over 46,000 and 28,000 followers respectively.
“Akwisombe is the picture of success. She speaks in a relatable, open manner; offering a rawness and intimacy at a time when women are struggling both personally and professionally.”
At face value, Akwisombe is the picture of success. She speaks in a relatable, open manner; offering a rawness and intimacy at a time when women are struggling both personally and professionally. She posts motivational slogans in bold colours: “Want to be liked or want to be paid?” reads one. “Judgement is you being triggered by someone else’s success” reads another. Akwisombe wraps her guidance on financial and business success in ‘positive thinking’ wrapping paper and presents it with a feminist, motivational call-to-arms. It’s an alluring proposition.
Sarah’s offering branches out into the spiritual; namely the idea of manifesting. Manifesting refers to the theory that a mind is so powerful that it has the ability to make thoughts, beliefs or wishes come true. So, if you manifest a goal to make more money, and commit to this manifestation, you will make more money. It is an element of the theory behind the bestselling book The Secret. So, not only is Akwisombe selling something elusive, in the form of business coaching and advice, a portion of the advice she is giving is intangible too. The ‘value-added’ is almost impossible to pin down.
“Akwisombe, however, holds limited business experience herself and is not a member of any accredited coaching organisations”
Akwisombe, however, holds limited business experience herself and is not a member of any accredited coaching organisations. She stated in an interview with Refinery 29, “I’m not a life coach and [have] never used that word in my life to describe myself.” However, on various videos that she has deleted from her Instagram feed, now only available to view on sites like Undelete.news, she does describe herself as a coach.
When approached with the right to reply to these claims, Akwisombe told me “I haven't ever claimed myself to be a life coach. I have used the word 'coach' to describe the work I do, but not life coach which is quite different to performance or business coaching. Many people working as a mentor or coach do not hold an industry qualification as many business owners prefer to be coached by someone who has hands-on experience over qualification. I believe that is the choice of the student.”
It seems that the halo effect of her offering - namely how successful she has been financially - works to outshine any questions around the legitimacy and value of her products. And the secret here is that Akwisombe has made her money telling people how to make money. Whether they do or not, she still gets paid.
As summer ended and autumn arrived, the bubble of Akwisombe’s apparent success burst. It transpired that dozens upon dozens of women were fighting for refunds and apologies from her. There were repeated claims that she did not deliver what she promised to her clients across both her business courses and 1-1 coaching session. Many felt they were owed refunds up to several thousand pounds. Some were denied refunds and are still fighting for them at the time of writing; several have taken to their own Instagram accounts to share their story. Others say they are too afraid to ask for refunds, fearing repercussions and reputation damage.
To these claims, Akwisombe told me “We have sought legal advice and have been advised that we are not obligated to give refunds that are for services already rendered, in many cases some months ago. I have always held an open door policy where any of my students are able to give feedback to me directly and privately either via Instagram, Facebook message or email.”
“The coaching company Akwisombe signed up to has previously advocated the use of multi-level marketing schemes as a way to become a successful Instagram influencer”
Many cite the same point as the catalyst for these issues; Akwisombe bringing her own business coach, Llewellyn Davies, onboard to formulate and co-deliver her offering. Lewellyn, commonly referred to as Lewy, is one half of the business coaching company, Champions of Mind, which he runs with his brother Rhys. Crucially, a Facebook video from 2018 proves that the coaching company Akwisombe signed up to has previously advocated the use of multi-level marketing schemes as a way to become a successful Instagram influencer. Llewellyn Davies declined the opportunity to comment.
If you’ve scrolled through Facebook in the last few years, you’ve probably seen brand names like Arbonne, JuicePlus and Younique crop up. Posts by that girl you went to school with, or your mum’s friend back home, declare with enthusiasm that they are now selling miracle, high-quality products at bargain prices. And, not only are they selling, but they’re also hiring. If you come on board, you too can live the dream. An idyllic job, free goodies and friends for colleagues are just one sign up form away. Financial success and freedom awaits.
This is multi-level marketing or MLM for short; it’s also known as referral marketing or network marketing. It is a model in which one individual sits at the top and recruits ‘downlines’- usually friends, family and colleagues- to also sell the same products in exchange for a share of the profits. Each downline then does the same, and the levels stack up, ad infinitum.
“Less than 1% of people under MLM contract, per year, are profitable.”
Yet despite the glossy veneer and effusive praise sellers give their job and products, the reality behind MLM is often something quite different. Anti-MLM campaigners and researchers have been working tirelessly for years to expose what they believe to be a high-level and entirely legal scam. Robert Fitzpatrick, author of False Profits and founder of the website Pyramid Scheme Alert, says that “Less than 1% of people under MLM contract, per year, are profitable.”
MLM schemes have prospered, online and offline, for decades. But we don’t expect to find them buried beneath empowering feminists with a vivid, uber-motivational Instagram feed. Yet peeling back the layers of this year’s explosion of digital entrepreneurship begs the question; is a new form of MLM now alive and well on Instagram too? It seems likely. “Amongst austerity from the government, reduced wages and public employment being privatised, MLM speaks like a lone voice claiming to offer the average person a real chance—a financial salvation,” says Fitzpatrick. The arrival of Covid-19 amplified this voice further.
To consider the idea that MLM schemes have changed clothing and made the leap, we must consider the identifying factors they are known by. The encouragement of snap decisions is one, as is a tendency for sellers to rush potential buyers and downlines into making a commitment, usually of a financial nature. Claims of limited timeframes to make a purchase or sign up, and limited numbers of products, are common. There are also reports of the use of Neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) in communications; a way of using language to subtly but effectively convince a person to do or think something. It is sometimes used in a healthcare setting by therapists and psychologists, but sometimes too in sales, to push and manipulate. Prominent anti-MLM blogger Timeless Vie describes it as a scalpel: “a tool that can be used to heal as well as harm.”
“The making of complaints or requesting refunds is often met with both offence and defence in the form of verbal attacks”
Another key identifier is that of holding a positive mindset and being part of a special community. The making of complaints or requesting refunds is often met with both offence and defence in the form of verbal attacks. Negativity of any form is actively discouraged, and as such, those unhappy with what they have signed up for must either be silent or face consequences. Finally (though this is by no means a complete list), MLM schemes always make the same promise sign up, hand over your money, and one day soon you too can have financial freedom. You too can have the perfect life.
Women who feel they have been exploited by Akwisombe have cited all of these elements as ways in which they were sold to. In part two of this series, we will hear from these women directly, and explore further claims that refunds requested for poor services have been rejected.
Some will inevitably question why women have been signing up for business, coaching or financial advice from unqualified strangers on Instagram. What is on sale first and foremost, is motivation and inspiration at a challenging time. Then factor in job losses, money issues and isolation, and the fact that social ‘checks’, in which we run decisions or impulses to purchase something by friends or peers, aren’t happening as usual. Other socialising, learning and opportunities for career development have not been able to exist in their usual form this year. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen female-to-female business offerings implode; it’s reminiscent of the recent scandal at The Wing (and its subsequent downfall).
The lure of paying support from a real person you can hear, see and contact becomes even stronger when they flash up in full colour, with big smiles and inspirational quotes on a screen you carry with you everywhere, day after day. Instagrammers selling their services via the platform can present themselves in a manner that appears authentic, transparent, and overwhelmingly trustworthy. The app’s features allow for a sense of intimacy and work to replace real relationships during the pandemic. Choosing to learn from those who ‘have it all’ over trained professionals doesn’t come from a place of ignorance; it comes from a place of trust.
“Whilst the ethics of capitalism can be debated, when women are left feeling cheated and out of pocket, the pendulum undoubtedly swings to exploitation”
Instagram has undergone many subtle transitions over the last decade. It appears that its newest incarnation is to foster the creation of faux safe spaces where feminism and the ideals of empowerment are being used as a vehicle to sell. And whilst the ethics of capitalism can be debated, when women are left feeling cheated and out of pocket, the pendulum undoubtedly swings to exploitation.
In the next part of this series, we will ask what should be done to regulate offerings from self-titled coaches like Akwisombe, and what can be done to protect women from recession-ready scams with exploitative tactics hidden at their core.
written by Grace Holliday
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