ShahNawaz Nazir
Every few weeks in Kashmir, the same kind of debate starts all over again. A girl uploads a reel on Instagram or another social media platform, and within hours it spreads everywhere. People begin sharing it in WhatsApp groups, discussing it with friends, and writing long comments online. Some criticize the girl and say Kashmir is losing its values, modesty, and cultural identity. Others defend her, saying every person has the right to live freely and express themselves however they choose. Soon, social media turns into a battlefield of opinions, arguments, and judgment. But many people fail to understand one simple truth: whether someone is praising the reel or criticizing it, they are helping it become more popular. Social media platforms do not care about people’s intentions. The algorithm only sees engagement. If you watch a reel multiple times, share it, comment on it, or even discuss it angrily, you are increasing its reach. In many ways, outrage has become a form of promotion. Kashmir still has not fully understood that in today’s digital world, even criticism can turn ordinary content into viral fame.
Behind these repeated online controversies lies a much deeper issue. Kashmir today is a society caught between tradition and modern life. On one side are people who want to protect modesty, privacy, family values, and cultural identity. They fear that social media is changing society too quickly and pulling young people away from their roots. On the other side are those who want freedom, confidence, creativity, and the chance to participate in a modern global culture. They believe social media can be a tool for self-expression and opportunity. Then there is a third group—the silent majority—who are less interested in these arguments and more focused on survival. They want jobs, business opportunities, financial stability, and growth. For them, social media is not just entertainment; it has become necessary. Today in Kashmir, restaurants attract customers through reels, local businesses sell products through Instagram and WhatsApp, artists and freelancers find clients online, and tourism depends heavily on digital content. Even political leaders now depend on their online presence to remain visible. This means that pretending social media can simply be avoided is unrealistic. It has become a powerful part of daily life and an important tool for progress.
At the same time, social media has created a serious new problem: the addiction to attention. This issue affects both girls and boys. Young women may be judged more harshly, but young men are also changing their behavior to gain online approval. Many now rent expensive cars just for one video, display borrowed luxury items, or build fake lifestyles to impress followers. Some spend hours perfecting their image, shaping their bodies, or sharing opinions designed only to gain views and likes. Slowly, many people begin to measure their self-worth through numbers on a screen. Followers, comments, and likes become signs of success. Attention becomes identity. This is dangerous because it can make people dependent on outside validation. Instead of asking who they truly are, many begin asking how they appear to others online. Confidence becomes performance. Real life becomes secondary to digital life. The problem is no longer about reels, clothing, or even gender—it is about how social media is changing the way people understand themselves and their value.
Kashmir is especially vulnerable to this problem because it is already a society under emotional pressure. People here live with strong social expectations, fear of public judgment, economic difficulties, and constant comparison with others. Reputation matters deeply. Family honor matters deeply. In such an environment, when someone suddenly gains attention online, society reacts strongly. People feel curiosity, jealousy, fascination, anger, and admiration all at once. One simple reel can become a major social event. Yet there is also great hypocrisy in how society responds. The same people who publicly shame others for “attention-seeking” are often the first to watch every story, follow every update, and share every controversial post. The same people writing “Have some shame” in comment sections may be secretly consuming the very content they claim to oppose. This shows that Kashmir does not only have a social media problem—it has a contradiction problem. We want modern success, but we fear modern exposure. We want opportunities, but we feel uncomfortable with visibility. We want freedom, but we struggle with its consequences. We want to preserve tradition, but often resist adapting it to a changing world.
The real question Kashmir needs to ask is not whether girls should make reels. That debate is too narrow and misses the bigger issue. The more important question is whether we can build a healthier digital culture. Can social media be used for education, creativity, business, and meaningful self-expression without turning human dignity into a marketplace for attention? Can we teach young people how to use these platforms wisely without using shame as a weapon? The internet is not going away, and the influence of social media will only grow stronger. The next generation of Kashmiris will not be shaped only by their families, schools, or places of worship—they will also be shaped by screens, algorithms, and online trends. That reality has already arrived. The challenge now is to create a balance: to protect our values while accepting change, to embrace opportunity without losing dignity, and to encourage freedom while teaching responsibility. Kashmir must learn not only how to live in the digital world, but how to shape that world in a way that reflects the best of who we are.
(The author is a freelancer and can be reached at [email protected])
