Why so many influencers get called tone-deaf and how to avoid it

It often feels like the people most equipped to endure life’s discomforts are the ones without a voice, while those with the loudest platforms use them to complain the most. The imbalance is jarring, and it shapes the way influencer content is received.

That’s the real issue. The people genuinely struggling - working two jobs, caring for their families, getting through the week - don’t have a platform. They’re not crying on Stories or putting their stress into carousels. But influencers are. And while most don’t mean harm, the disconnect between the life they show and the life they moan about is often ridiculous.

We work with influencers. We see the reality behind the content. And we also see just how easily it goes wrong.

Not all influencers are wealthy - but most still look it

Let’s be honest: not every influencer is rich. Plenty are scraping by between deals, waiting on late payments, and sending invoices the same day a post goes live. We’ve had creators chase payment 24 hours after signing a 30-day contract - and fair enough, they might need it. But what’s jarring is how, if you looked at their profile, you’d assume they were loaded. Designer bags, aesthetic travel, outfit after outfit. It gives the appearance of serious wealth, even when the reality is much shakier.

That’s the disconnect. And that’s the reality behind the scenes.

Still, what matters more than their actual bank balance is the image. If your content looks like luxury - spa days, unboxings, holidays, expensive loungewear - and then you cry on Stories about how hard life is, the audience won’t see vulnerability. They’ll see entitlement.

Case in point: Molly-Mae and the perception gap

Molly-Mae Hague is a recent example, and probably one of the most high-profile. The ex–Love Island star is regularly accused of being out of touch, and whether it’s fair or not, most of it comes from how her content appears to the public.

It didn’t help that she once famously said “we all have the same 24 hours in a day” - a line that felt like it was made in a lab for tone-deaf internet quotes. I audibly gasped when I saw it. It was the sort of thing that makes you think, oh gosh, good luck navigating this one.

More recently, she got emotional about not having had “one fun thing” this summer, which didn’t land well with fans. Comment sections were quickly flooded with people pointing out her holidays, her £3.5 million house, her access to childcare, and events like Wimbledon. To the average follower scrolling her feed, it looks like she’s living the absolute dream - luxury trips, beautiful interiors, a wardrobe most people would kill for. So when she suddenly appears online laughing about how rubbish her summer has been, it creates whiplash. Especially when some of those same followers haven’t been able to afford a weekend away in the UK this year.

The criticism wasn’t always kind, but the underlying message was this: lots of people are going through the same things you are, without the resources to soften the blow.

I even saw a clip of hers pop up on my own feed. She was saying she dreaded her daughter waking up from a nap, because it was going to be a tough afternoon – and I believed her. For a few seconds, it felt sincere. I even thought, god, I bet it really is hard. I’m exhausted spending an hour with someone else’s child, let alone doing it every day. But then, within seconds, her sister walks in wearing one of Molly’s own fashion pieces and it suddenly shifts into what feels like a soft sales pitch. The mood changes completely. Her sister says something like, ‘I never would have considered buying the EV before but now I would, I love this set, it’s so flattering, oh yeah it looks good on absolutely everyone’ - and just like that, the whole thing feels packaged.

Even if it wasn’t deliberately planned, the fact nobody on her team flagged how awkward that transition looked is baffling. You go from feeling empathy to feeling like you’re in the middle of a product demo. And again, it’s not that she isn’t allowed to struggle. She has every right to find parenting hard. I’m not a parent, but I’m sure it’s bloody hard. I genuinely hope she’s getting the support she needs if it’s all feeling overwhelming. But there also has to be a moment of acknowledging the reality: she’s navigating those challenges with far more resources than 99 percent of mums out there. And when you don’t acknowledge that, it just comes across as tone-deaf.

Her content shift hasn’t been well received

To make things harder, a lot of her recent content has been framed around complaining - at least, that’s what her audience keeps pointing out. Whether it’s work stress, motherhood struggles, or general low moods, she seems to be trying to pivot into something more open and honest. And to be fair, that might be exactly what she needs right now. From a personal perspective, it’s possible she’s going through something deeper. Mental health dips can show up in all kinds of ways, and sometimes sharing honestly online is the only bit of escapism someone has. I genuinely hope she’s getting whatever help or support she might need behind the scenes.

But from a public image perspective, it’s a tricky space to navigate. When your platform is built on aesthetic perfection, wealth, and success, suddenly switching to vulnerability doesn’t always translate. Especially when your followers are dealing with the same emotional challenges, but without any of the financial cushion.

The PR perks become invisible after a while

Back when I worked in journalism, I’d get invited to the same kind of press events that people like Molly-Mae and other influencers now attend regularly - product launches, brand dinners, gifting suites. There’s usually champagne, a couple of courses, and a goodie bag worth more than your weekly shop. You’d eat well, skip dinner, and go home slightly tipsy with two new serums and a scented candle.

I don’t get those invites as much now - which probably explains why I still see it for what it is: a privilege.

But when you live in that world constantly, it becomes your normal. You forget that being handed £300 worth of products just for turning up is not normal. And once that mindset kicks in, it becomes very easy to sound tone-deaf without even realising it.

Influencing isn’t meaningless - but it’s not hard labour either

Look, I get it. Influencing takes time. There are contracts, edits, planning, pressure. But I’ve seen the workflow. I’ve helped organise the brief. I’ve scheduled the shoot. It’s not the same as working night shifts on a hospital ward. It’s not stocking shelves till 3am or teaching 30 kids on three hours of sleep.

It’s a flexible, well-paid, mostly self-directed career based on your personality. You work from home. You film yourself using a product. You edit it. You post it. You invoice. And in some cases, chase the invoice within six hours.

So yes, it has its challenges - but when the person filming the video also gets free clothes, free skincare, free trips, and has a manager doing half the admin, it’s not the kind of struggle most people can relate to.

The audience followed you because you were relatable

That’s how it all starts. A low-budget haul. Filming in your bedroom. Posting from your car. But then things get shinier. Suddenly it’s better lighting, new wardrobe, new flat, gifted items in every corner. Even if the life is borrowed, the look changes. And if your content keeps selling the dream, your audience stops seeing you as one of them.

We’ve run influencer campaigns where half the comments on the final post are some version of: “Must be nice.” And that’s the issue - not that you’re doing well, but that you’re still pretending you’re not.

You don’t have to downplay your success. But if you’re going to share your lows, you have to show some self-awareness about how you come across to the people watching from cramped flats and exhausted lunch breaks.

Especially right now, it’s painfully obvious

Right now, people are living through real trauma. War. Poverty. Grief. And yet, scroll Instagram and you’ll still find someone sat in a hotel robe, crying on Stories about how emotionally draining their Bali content trip was.

That’s not vulnerability. That’s PR disaster.

We’ve had brands pull campaigns last-minute because a creator posted something that felt tone-deaf in the middle of a global crisis. It’s not just cringe anymore - it’s reputationally damaging.

If you want to talk about how hard things are, fine. But read the room. And maybe don’t frame your brand trip stress next to a luxury sunset photo with “grateful but struggling” underneath it.

The influencer bubble makes bad decisions feel normal

Part of the problem is the circle. Once you’re in the influencer space, you only hear from other people who do what you do. You start to believe that a delayed PR parcel is a real issue. That burnout from back-to-back spa treatments is worth crying about.

I’ve seen creators post emotionally vulnerable captions from gifted hotel beds. I’ve seen breakdowns sandwiched between discount codes. And it’s not that they’re faking the emotion - it’s that they’ve lost track of how it comes across.

When everyone around you is validating your version of stress, it becomes very easy to forget what most people are dealing with.

So how do you avoid sounding tone-deaf?

1. Check the news before you post.
   Just glance at the headlines. If there’s a bombing, a natural disaster, or people being killed, maybe don’t post the press trip reel that day.

2. Don’t try to sell both the dream and the struggle.
   If you’re making your life look perfect, people will expect you to enjoy it. You can’t have it both ways.

3. Stop pretending to be broke if you’re not.
   You might not have millions in your account, but if you’re chasing £2,000 brand fees while wearing £500 loungewear, people will notice the disconnect.

4. Keep at least one person in your life who’ll say, “this sounds awful.”
   If your manager, agent or friend always agrees with you, they’re not helping. The best reputations are protected by someone who isn’t afraid to say no.

5. Acknowledge the privilege.
   You don’t have to apologise for your life - but showing awareness goes a long way. Gratitude reads better than entitlement.

Final thought

People are tired. Of war. Of stress. Of bills. And when they open their phones, they don’t want to see someone who’s been gifted everything crying about how draining it all is.

You don’t have to fake relatability - but you do have to understand that perception matters. If your life looks great 90 percent of the time, don’t be shocked when people roll their eyes at your one bad day.

The audience isn’t jealous. They’re just emotionally maxed out. So if you’ve got a platform, use it with perspective. Because in PR – and in life – it’s not what you post. It’s how it lands.