{"id":14710,"date":"2023-07-20T21:23:14","date_gmt":"2023-07-21T04:23:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/?p=14710"},"modified":"2023-07-28T03:49:11","modified_gmt":"2023-07-28T10:49:11","slug":"issue-of-the-week-personal-growth-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/?p=14710","title":{"rendered":"Issue of the Week: Personal Growth"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"Layers<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The Age of Instagram Face<\/em>, The New Yorker, illustration by Sol Cotti<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Critiques of the youth culture that emerged as a contextual reference in the past 50 plus years have been many and searing–deservedly so. Being a natural human being in a natural body aging naturally was increasingly assaulted by the advertising and other profiteering agents as not good enough. The unique beauty of aging at every stage of life has been replaced, by some, with an always stay young, literally fear of death ethos. The result is, as the saying goes with its genesis in the sixties era, plastic people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Many people and movements have revolted against this unnatural grotesquery and it see-saws like so many cultural issues. The problem today, pointed out so insightfully in The New Yorker by Jia Tolentino, is that it’s not just the proliferation among some as they age to create a fake face, a fake body–ultimately by definition a fake self–but the spread of this profoundly sexist, objectifying, all look the same, self-esteem destroying in any meaningful way cultural modality to the young themselves–a terrifying prospect for the future of human nature, a kind of mutilation of human nature, often in the name of needing to do so to counter the very biases it ends up feeding. The nexus of all this with the virus of social media is of course no accident. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The date of publication of this article is particularly meaningful for the writer here whose grandfather was born this day and grandmother died this day, both whose natural beauty from youth to old age was unscarred by the unnatural and was a shining testament to what is irreplaceable about the beauty of natural humanity. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tolentino won the National Magazine Award for Columns and Essays this year. Her article, The Age Of Instagram Face<\/em>, written and published just before the covid pandemic started, is as perceptive in breadth and depth as it gets. It is, in many ways, her best ever. And its application to reality has never been more important to come to terms with. Here it is:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Age of Instagram Face<\/a><\/em>, By Jia Tolentino, December 12, 2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How social media, FaceTune, and plastic surgery created a single, cyborgian look.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This past summer, I booked a plane ticket to Los Angeles with the hope of investigating what seems likely to be one of the oddest legacies of our rapidly expiring decade: the gradual emergence, among professionally beautiful women, of a single, cyborgian face. It\u2019s a young face, of course, with poreless skin and plump, high cheekbones. It has catlike eyes and long, cartoonish lashes; it has a small, neat nose and full, lush lips. It looks at you coyly but blankly, as if its owner has taken half a Klonopin and is considering asking you for a private-jet ride to Coachella. The face is distinctly white but ambiguously ethnic\u2014it suggests a National Geographic<\/em> composite illustrating what Americans will look like in 2050<\/a>, if every American of the future were to be a direct descendant of Kim Kardashian West, Bella Hadid, Emily Ratajkowski, and Kendall Jenner (who looks exactly like Emily Ratajkowski). \u201cIt\u2019s like a sexy .\u2009.\u2009. baby .\u2009.\u2009. tiger,\u201d Cara Craig, a high-end New York colorist, observed to me recently. The celebrity makeup artist Colby Smith told me, \u201cIt\u2019s Instagram Face, duh. It\u2019s like an unrealistic sculpture. Volume on volume. A face that looks like it\u2019s made out of clay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instagram, which launched as the decade was just beginning, in October, 2010, has its own aesthetic language: the ideal image is always the one that instantly pops on a phone screen. The aesthetic is also marked by a familiar human aspiration, previously best documented in wedding photography, toward a generic sameness. Accounts such as Insta Repeat<\/a> illustrate the platform\u2019s monotony by posting grids of indistinguishable photos posted by different users\u2014a person in a yellow raincoat standing at the base of a waterfall, or a hand holding up a bright fall leaf. Some things just perform well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The human body is an unusual sort of Instagram subject: it can be adjusted, with the right kind of effort, to perform better and better over time. Art directors at magazines have long edited photos<\/a> of celebrities to better match unrealistic beauty standards; now you can do that to pictures of yourself with just a few taps on your phone. Snapchat, which launched in 2011 and was originally known as a purveyor of disappearing messages, has maintained its user base in large part by providing photo filters, some of which allow you to become intimately familiar with what your face would look like if it were ten per cent more conventionally attractive\u2014if it were thinner<\/a>, or had smoother skin, larger eyes, fuller lips. Instagram has added an array of flattering selfie filters to its Stories feature. FaceTune, which was released in 2013 and promises to help you \u201cwow your friends with every selfie,\u201d enables even more precision. A number of Instagram accounts are dedicated to identifying the tweaks that celebrities make to their features with photo-editing apps. Celeb Face<\/a>, which has more than a million followers, posts photos from the accounts of celebrities, adding arrows to spotlight signs of careless FaceTuning. Follow Celeb Face for a month, and this constant perfecting process begins to seem both mundane and pathological. You get the feeling that these women, or their assistants, alter photos out of a simple defensive reflex, as if FaceTuning your jawline were the Instagram equivalent of checking your eyeliner in the bathroom of the bar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think ninety-five per cent of the most-followed people on Instagram use FaceTune, easily,\u201d Smith told me. \u201cAnd I would say that ninety-five per cent of these people have also had some sort of cosmetic procedure. You can see things getting trendy\u2014like, everyone\u2019s getting brow lifts via Botox now. Kylie Jenner didn\u2019t used to have that sort of space around her eyelids, but now she does.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Twenty years ago, plastic surgery was a fairly dramatic intervention: expensive, invasive, permanent, and, often, risky. But, in 2002, the Food and Drug Administration approved Botox for use in preventing wrinkles; a few years later, it approved hyaluronic-acid fillers, such as Juv\u00e9derm and Restylane, which at first filled in fine lines and wrinkles and now can be used to restructure jawlines, noses, and cheeks. These procedures last for six months to a year and aren\u2019t nearly as expensive as surgery. (The average price per syringe of filler is six hundred and eighty-three dollars<\/a>.) You can go get Botox and then head right back to the office.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A class of celebrity plastic surgeons has emerged on Instagram, posting time-lapse videos of injection procedures and before-and-after photos, which receive hundreds of thousands of views and likes. According to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, Americans received more than seven million neurotoxin injections in 2018, and more than two and a half million filler injections. That year, Americans spent $16.5 billion on cosmetic surgery; ninety-two per cent of these procedures were performed on women<\/a>. Thanks to injectables, cosmetic procedures are no longer just for people who want huge changes, or who are deep in battle with the aging process\u2014they\u2019re for millennials, or even, in rarefied cases, members of Gen Z. Kylie Jenner, who was born in 1997, spoke on her reality-TV show \u201cLife of Kylie\u201d about wanting to get lip fillers after a boy commented on her small lips when she was fifteen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ideals of female beauty that can only be met through painful processes of physical manipulation have always been with us, from tiny feet in imperial China to wasp waists in nineteenth-century Europe. But contemporary systems of continual visual self-broadcasting\u2014reality TV, social media\u2014have created new disciplines of continual visual self-improvement. Social media has supercharged the propensity to regard one\u2019s personal identity as a potential source of profit\u2014and, especially for young women, to regard one\u2019s body this way, too. In October, Instagram announced<\/a> that it would be removing \u201call effects associated with plastic surgery\u201d from its filter arsenal, but this appears to mean all effects explicitly<\/em> associated with plastic surgery, such as the ones called \u201cPlastica\u201d and \u201cFix Me.\u201d Filters that give you Instagram Face will remain. For those born with assets\u2014natural assets, capital assets, or both\u2014it can seem sensible, even automatic, to think of your body the way that a McKinsey consultant would think about a corporation: identify underperforming sectors and remake them, discard whatever doesn\u2019t increase profits and reorient the business toward whatever does.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smith first started noticing the encroachment of Instagram Face about five years ago, \u201cwhen the lip fillers started,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019d do someone\u2019s makeup and notice that there were no wrinkles in the lips at all. Every lipstick would go on so smooth.\u201d It has made his job easier, he noted, archly. \u201cMy job used to be to make people look like that, but now people come to me already looking like that, because they\u2019re surgically enhanced. It\u2019s great. We used to have to contour you to give you those cheeks, but now you just went out and got them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was something strange, I said, about the racial aspect of Instagram Face\u2014it was as if the algorithmic tendency to flatten everything into a composite of greatest hits had resulted in a beauty ideal that favored white women capable of manufacturing a look of rootless exoticism. \u201cAbsolutely,\u201d Smith said. \u201cWe\u2019re talking an overly tan skin tone, a South Asian influence with the brows and eye shape, an African-American influence with the lips, a Caucasian influence with the nose, a cheek structure that is predominantly Native American and Middle Eastern.\u201d Did Smith think that Instagram Face was actually making people look better? He did. \u201cPeople are absolutely getting prettier,\u201d he said. \u201cThe world is so visual right now, and it\u2019s only getting more visual, and people want to upgrade the way they relate to it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This was an optimistic way of looking at the situation. I told Smith that I couldn\u2019t shake the feeling that technology is rewriting our bodies to correspond to its own interests\u2014rearranging our faces according to whatever increases engagement and likes. \u201cDon\u2019t you think it\u2019s scary to imagine people doing this forever?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, yeah, it\u2019s obviously<\/em> terrifying,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beverly Hills is L.A.\u2019s plastic-surgery district. In the sun-scorched isosceles triangle between the palm trees and department stores of Wilshire and the palm trees and boutique eateries of Santa Monica, there\u2019s a doctor, or several, on every block. On a Wednesday afternoon, I parked my rental car in a tiny underground lot, emerged next to a Sprinkles Cupcakes and a bougie psychic\u2019s office, and walked to a consultation appointment I had made with one of the best-known celebrity plastic surgeons, whose before-and-after Instagram videos frequently attract half a million views.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d booked the consultation because I was curious about the actual experience of a would-be millennial patient\u2014a fact I had to keep mentioning to my boyfriend, who seemed moderately worried that I would come back looking like a human cat. A few weeks before, I had downloaded Snapchat for the first time and tried out the filters, which were in fact very flattering: they gave me radiant skin, doe lashes, a face shaped like a heart. It wasn\u2019t lost on me that when I put on a lot of makeup I am essentially trying to create a version of this face. And it wasn\u2019t hard for me to understand why millennial women who were born within spitting distance of Instagram Face would want to keep drawing closer to it. In a world where women are rewarded for youth and beauty in a way that they are rewarded for nothing else\u2014and where a strain of mainstream feminism<\/a> teaches women that self-objectification is progressive, because it\u2019s profitable\u2014cosmetic work might seem like one of the few guaranteed high-yield projects that a woman could undertake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The plastic surgeon\u2019s office was gorgeous and peaceful, a silvery oasis. A receptionist, humming along to \u201cI Want to Know What Love Is,\u201d handed me intake forms, which asked about stress factors and mental health, among other things. I signed an arbitration agreement. A medical assistant took photos of my face from five different angles. A medical consultant with lush hair and a deeply warm, caring aura came into the room. Careful not to lie, and lightly alarmed by the fact that I didn\u2019t need to, I told her that I\u2019d never gotten fillers or Botox but that I was interested in looking better, and that I wanted to know what experts would advise. She was complimentary, and told me that I shouldn\u2019t get too much done. After a while, she suggested that maybe I would want to pay attention to my chin as I aged, and maybe my cheeks, too\u2014maybe I\u2019d want to lift them a little bit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then the celebrity doctor came in, giving off the intensity of a surgeon and the focus of a glassblower. I said to him, too, that I was just interested in looking better, and wanted to know what an expert would recommend. I showed him one of my filtered Snapchat photos. He glanced at it, nodded, and said, \u201cLet me show you what we could do.\u201d He took a photo of my face on his phone and projected it onto a TV screen on the wall. \u201cI like to use FaceTune,\u201d he said, tapping and dragging.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Within a few seconds, my face was shaped to match the Snapchat photo. He took another picture of me, in profile, and FaceTuned the chin again. I had a heart-shaped face, and visible cheekbones. All of this was achievable, he said, with chin filler, cheek filler, and perhaps an ultrasound procedure that would dissolve the fat in the lower half of my cheeks\u2014or we could use Botox to paralyze and shrink my masseter muscles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I asked the doctor what he told people who came to see him wanting to look like his best-known patients. \u201cPeople come in with pictures of my most famous clients all the time,\u201d he said. \u201cI say, \u2018I can\u2019t turn you into them. I can\u2019t, if you\u2019re Asian, give you a Caucasian face, or I could, but it wouldn\u2019t be right\u2014it wouldn\u2019t look right.\u2019 But if they show me a specific feature they want then I can work with that. I can say, \u2018If you want a sharp jaw like that, we can do that.\u2019 But, also, these things are not always right for all people. For you, if you came in asking for a sharp jaw, I would say no\u2014it would make you look masculine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoes it seem like more people my age are coming in for this sort of work?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think that ten years ago it was seen as anti-cerebral to do this,\u201d he said. \u201cBut now it\u2019s empowering to do something that gives you an edge. Which is why young people are coming in. They come in to enhance something, rather than coming in to fix something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd it\u2019s subtle,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEven with my most famous clients, it\u2019s very subtle,\u201d the doctor said. \u201cIf you look at photos taken five years apart, you can tell the difference. But, day to day, month to month, you can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I felt that I was being listened to very carefully. I thanked him, sincerely, and then a medical assistant came in to show me the recommendations and prices: injectables in my cheeks ($5,500 to $6,900), injectables in my chin (same price), an ultrasound \u201clipofreeze\u201d to fix the asymmetry in my jawline ($8,900 to $18,900), or Botox in the TMJ region ($2,500). I walked out of the clinic into the Beverly Hills sunshine, laughing a little, imagining what it\u2019d be like to have a spare thirty thousand dollars on hand. I texted photos of my FaceTuned jaw to my friends and then touched my actual jaw, a suddenly optional assemblage of flesh and bone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The plastic surgeon Jason Diamond was a recurring star of the reality show \u201cDr. 90210\u201d and has a number of famous clients, including the twenty-nine-year-old \u201cVanderpump Rules\u201d star Lala Kent, who has posted photos taken in Diamond\u2019s office on Instagram, and who told People<\/em><\/a>, \u201cI\u2019ve had every part of my face injected.\u201d Another client is Kim Kardashian West<\/a>, whom Colby Smith described to me as \u201cpatient zero\u201d for Instagram Face. (\u201cUltimately, the goal is always to look like Kim,\u201d he said.) Kardashian West, who has inspired countless cosmetically altered doppelg\u00e4ngers<\/a>, insists that she hasn\u2019t had major plastic surgery; according to her, it\u2019s all just Botox, fillers, and makeup. But she also hasn\u2019t tried to hide how her appearance has changed. In 2015, she published a coffee-table book of selfies, called \u201cSelfish<\/a>,\u201d which begins when she is beautiful the way a human is beautiful and ends when she\u2019s beautiful in the manner of a computer animation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I scheduled an interview with Diamond, whose practice occupies the penthouse of a building in Beverly Hills. On the desk in his office was a thank-you note from Chrissy Teigen. (It sat atop two of her cookbooks.) As with the doctor I\u2019d seen the day before, Diamond, who has pool-blue eyes and wore black scrubs and square-framed glasses, looked nothing like the tabloid caricature<\/a> of a plastic surgeon. He was youthful in a way that was only slightly surreal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Diamond had trained with an old guard of top L.A. plastic surgeons, he told me\u2014people who thought it was taboo to advertise. When, in 2004, he had the opportunity to appear on \u201cDr. 90210,\u201d he decided to do it, against the advice of his wife and his nurses, because, he said, \u201cI knew that I would be able to show results that the world had never seen.\u201d In 2016, a famous client persuaded him to set up an Instagram account. He now has just under a quarter million followers. The employees at his practice who run the account like that Instagram allows patients to see him as a father of two and as a friend, not only as a doctor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Diamond had long had a Web site, but in the past his celebrity patients didn\u2019t volunteer to offer testimonials there. \u201cAnd, of course, we never asked,\u201d he said. \u201cBut now\u2014it\u2019s amazing. Maybe thirty per cent of the celebrities I take care of will just ask and offer to shout us out on social media. All of a sudden, it\u2019s popular knowledge that all these people are coming here. For some reason, Instagram made it more acceptable.\u201d Cosmetic work had come to seem more like fitness, he suggested. \u201cI think it\u2019s become much more mainstream to think about taking care of your face and your body as part of your general well-being. It\u2019s kind of understood now: it\u2019s O.K. to try to look your best.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a sort of cleansing, crystalline honesty to this high-end intersection of superficiality and pragmatism, I was slowly realizing. I hadn\u2019t needed to bother posing as a patient\u2014these doctors spent all day making sure that people no longer felt they had anything to hide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I asked Diamond if he had thoughts about Instagram Face. \u201cYou know, there\u2019s this look\u2014this Bella Hadid, Kim Kardashian, Kylie Jenner thing that seems to be spreading,\u201d I said. Diamond said that he practiced all over the world, and that there were different regional preferences, and that no one template worked for every face. \u201cBut there are constants,\u201d he said. \u201cSymmetry, proportion, harmony. We are always trying to create balance in the face. And when you look at Kim, Megan Fox, Lucy Liu, Halle Berry, you\u2019ll find elements in common: the high contoured cheekbones, the strong projected chin, the flat platform underneath the chin that makes a ninety-degree angle.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you make of the fact that it\u2019s much more possible now for people to look at these celebrity faces and think, somewhat correctly, that they could look like that, too?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe could spend two whole days discussing that question,\u201d Diamond said. \u201cI\u2019d say that thirty per cent of people come in bringing a photo of Kim, or someone like Kim\u2014there\u2019s a handful of people, but she\u2019s at the very top of the list, and understandably so. It\u2019s one of the biggest challenges I have, educating the person about whether it\u2019s reasonable to try to move along that path toward Kim\u2019s face, or toward whoever. Twenty years of practice, thousands and thousands of procedures, go into each individual answer\u2014when I can do it, when I can\u2019t do it, and when we can do something but shouldn\u2019t, for any number of reasons.\u201d I told Diamond that I was afraid that if I ever tried injectables, I\u2019d never stop. \u201cIt is true that the vast majority of our patients absolutely love their results, and they come back,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We talked about the word \u201caddiction.\u201d I said that I dyed my hair and wore makeup most days, and that I knew I would continue to dye my hair and spend money on makeup, and that I didn\u2019t consider this an addiction but a choice. (I thought about a line from the book \u201cPerfect Me<\/a>,\u201d by the philosopher Heather Widdows: \u201cChoice cannot make an unjust or exploitative practice or act somehow, magically, just or non-exploitative.\u201d) I asked Diamond if his patients felt more like themselves after getting work done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can answer that in part because I do these things, too,\u201d he said, gesturing to his face. \u201cYou know when you get a really good haircut, and you feel like the best version of yourself? This is that feeling, but exponential.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the way to Diamond\u2019s office, I had passed a caf\u00e9 that looked familiar: pale marble-topped tables, blond-wood floors, a row of Prussian-green snake plants, pendant lamps, geometrically patterned tiles. The writer Kyle Chayka has coined the term \u201cAirSpace<\/a>\u201d for this style of blandly appealing interior design, marked by an \u201canesthetized aesthetic\u201d and influenced by the \u201cconnective emotional grid of social media platforms\u201d\u2014these virtual spaces where hundreds of millions of people learn to \u201csee and feel and want the same things.\u201d WeWork<\/a>, the collapsing co-working giant\u2014which, like Instagram, was founded in 2010\u2014once convinced investors of a forty-seven-billion-dollar vision in which people would follow their idiosyncratic dreams while enmeshed in a global network of near-indistinguishable office spaces featuring reclaimed wood, neon signs, and ficus trees. Direct-to-consumer brands fill podcast ad breaks with promises of the one true electric toothbrush and meals that arrive in the mail, selling us on the relief of forgoing choice altogether. The general idea seems to be that humans are so busy pursuing complicated forms of self-actualization that we\u2019d like much of our life to be assembled for us, as if from a kit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went to see another Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, one who had more than three hundred thousand Instagram followers. I told the doctor that I was a journalist, and that I was there for a consultation. He studied my face from a few angles, felt my jaw, and suggested exactly what the first doctor had recommended. The prices were lower this time\u2014if I had wanted to put the whole thing on my credit card, I could have.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took the elevator down to the street with three very pretty women who all appeared to be in their early twenties. As I drove back to my hotel, I felt sad and subdued and self-conscious. I had thought that I was researching this subject at a logical distance: that I could inhabit the point of view of an ideal millennial client, someone who wanted to enhance rather than fix herself, who was ambitious and pragmatic. But I left with a very specific feeling, a kind of bottomless need that I associated with early adolescence, and which I had not experienced in a long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had worn makeup at sixteen to my college interviews; I\u2019d worn makeup at my gymnastic meets when I was ten. In the photos I have of myself at ballet recitals when I was six or seven, I\u2019m wearing mascara and blush and lipstick, and I\u2019m so happy. What did it mean, I wondered, that I have spent so much of my life attempting to perform well in circumstances where an unaltered female face is aberrant? How had I been changed by an era in which ordinary humans receive daily metrics that appear to quantify how our personalities and our physical selves are performing on the market? What was the logical end of this escalating back-and-forth between digital and physical improvement?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On Instagram, I checked up on the accounts of the plastic surgeons I had visited, watching comments roll in: \u201cthis is what I need! I need to come see you ASAP!,\u201d \u201cwant want want,\u201d \u201cwhat is the youngest you could perform this procedure?\u201d I looked at the Instagram account of a singer born in 1999, who had become famous as a teen-ager and had since given herself an entirely new face. I met up with a bunch of female friends for dinner in L.A. that night, two of whom had already adopted injectables as part of their cosmetic routine. They looked beautiful. The sun went down, and the hills of L.A. started to glitter. I had the sense that I was living in some inexorable future. For some days afterward, I noticed that I was avoiding looking too closely at my face. ♦<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Age of Instagram Face, The New Yorker, illustration by Sol Cotti Critiques of the youth culture that emerged as a contextual reference in the past 50 plus years have been many and searing–deservedly so. Being a natural human being in a natural body aging naturally was increasingly assaulted by the advertising and other profiteering […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1001004,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[55,54],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14710"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1001004"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=14710"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14710\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14715,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14710\/revisions\/14715"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=14710"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=14710"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=14710"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}