When the COVID-19 hit New York City in March 2020, many people fled the city. As months passed by, people who fled posted photos of their new “office stations” from their second homes. I remember thinking, ”How is this fair?” when I saw people with alternative options for housing.

“Mountain mama” a person captioned on Instagram with a picture of her and her newborn baby. I could not resist but judge her because she was notorious for sharing photos of herself at Central Park and geo-tagging every posts — making sure that people knew that she resided in New York City since 2018. But there she was, holding a newborn child in her arms, posing from her pandemic home in the mountains — far away from the city that she prided in.

At the same time, my roommate and I stayed in a tiny apartment 24/7 and relied on pantry foods that quickly disappeared after 2 weeks. There were moments when we could not sleep — worried if we’ll be furloughed or laid off and won’t be able to pay for rent during a pandemic. “Are you ready to go?” She wore a mask that she’d received for her job training prior to the pandemic and gloves that we had saved for cooking. “Yup,” she stepped out of the apartment and went to the grocery store around the corner. As soon as she came back, I sanitized everything from the grocery bag, and she threw her “outdoor” clothes to a laundry basket and scrub-washed her hands. “Hey, I got us some bleach and hand soap,” we did everything we knew best at the time to not contract the virus. Everything that kept us alive shut down and everyday became a risk. Thankfully, my mom had connections with her family in Korea who had access to KN94 and N95 masks. She sent us a pandemic emergency package that included masks, latex gloves, rice and other pantry items. I stood by the window, looked down the street and impatiently waited for the UPS truck to pull over. “LOOK! I SEE THE BOX! HE’S BRINGING IT HERE!” He rang the door and without a second thought, I buzzed him in. That’s how desperate we were during the pandemic year of 2020, and it was one of the most depressing moments of my life. The pandemic hit NYC to another level and those of us who remained in the city suffered.

Later in 2020, when vaccines were making headlines, the Mountain Mama posted pictures of her baby at the Panama Beach. I boiled inside. In Spring of 2021, she posted a photo of her at Central Park — with a ten-month-old child — and wrote, “after 51 weeks, we are finally back in NYC! [My baby] is a New Yorker now!” I cringed so hard that I almost choked on my own saliva. Those who fled slowly crawled back to the city as businesses reopened. Soon, I was seeing people post “Looking for jobs in NYC” on LinkedIn and alumni career page. More people putting “NYC” in their Instagram bio. This romanticized version of New York City living (I blame Gossip Girl, F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Sex and the City and social media for this) resurfaced and became a trend. Whenever I see posts like these, I cannot help but be petty because of the adversity that real New Yorkers and city residents had to overcome — especially in 2020 when the city was empty and depressing. Then I realized that way too many people use the city for their social status. “[My baby] has a New Yorker side eye,” Mountain Mama said. Frustrated by these fake, self-proclaiming people on social media, I deactivated my account and tried to process these feelings with my therapist.

To be honest, I don’t think my therapist fully understood why I felt that way because she was not familiar with the culture around social media. Still to this day, I get bothered by people who call themselves a New Yorker after moving to the city in less than a year and post photos of themselves in random streets of Manhattan or Brooklyn — then geo-tagging them. The worst? They glamorize New York City by only highlighting the gentrified neighborhoods and promoting Whiteness of the city-living — ignoring the fact that it is one of the most diverse cities in the country. The-basic-white-girl interests and hobbies in the city are generic. They love brunches and drinking mimosas. They wear clothes that don’t keep you warm in the winter and pose in the streets for photos. They have to go to visually-pleasing, Instagram-worthy restaurants. They complain about mountains of trash in the streets and say, “The reality of living in NYC” on TikTok videos. They go to museums not because they genuinely appreciate art but for social media posts. They go to mediocre Broadway shows with their “friends who came to visit,” and post a photo of the Playbill program. I guess what I’m trying to say is that everything about their so-called NYC life is staged for their social status and social media brags. What makes this whole thing toxic is businesses know very well that these non-native New Yorkers and “influencers” help them earn profit.

Back in 2020, we saw companies speak out ”against” racism and White influencers call themselves as ”allies.” Clearly, these posts never exempted them from being racist and being part of the systemic racism. They continue to be performative and use BIPOC guests/models as a token for maintaining their “friendly”/likable personas. These people exhibit colonial behavior. Like colonialists, these White influencers relocate, shower themselves with self-proclaiming labels, use the entire place as a photo op playground, and use other people’s culture to pretend and show-off their social status. New York City has become a photo booth for White influencers or what I like to perceive them as, modern-day colonialists.

The city is known for endless opportunities. People from all over the world come to start a new life. The history of immigration shaped the development of diverse neighborhoods in NYC. What I am sensing here is that Whiteness defines what the city is for these newcomers, and businesses use it for their economic gain while the general public is drawn to that — encouraging people to desire a white city. I hope more people come to the city to learn, to grow, and to explore. For once, take a break from taking pictures and geo-tagging NYC to show that you are here. We get it. You’ve made it here — whether for a job or for new experience. Don’t make New York City “white” by staying in your own narrow-minded garden than what the city can really offer and is made of. If we continue to advocate the city as an opportunistic place for White influencers, who are we becoming not only as a city but as society?

I think it takes a lot to consider yourself as a New Yorker. When my friends call me a New Yorker, I say, “please don’t call me that.” I stayed in the city during the worst time of the pandemic. The experience has taught me many things, but there is one thing that I learned. I’m not a New Yorker.