Inside a pristine glass box at the new Grand Egyptian Museum, King Tutankhamun’s golden mask sits motionless as a sea of people and camera flashes are aimed in his direction, almost as if the young king is still alive somewhere behind that mask. His presence feels so vivid and real that you half-expect him to turn, flinch, or even smile back at you.
But instead, he simply remains still, like a magnet drawing everyone toward him. He attracts all gazes, yet he never chases a single gaze. He pulls everyone to follow him, yet he never follows anyone back.
Just as we scroll through an Instagram page and scrutinize its neat little boxes, from moments frozen in place to people captured inside a still frame, King Tutankhamun exists in his own kind of image box. He sits, powerful and untouched, behind a glass box that has held him in a single moment.
And the same way we tap ‘follow’ to keep looking at those frozen snapshots, visiting the Grand Egyptian Museum feels like pressing ‘follow’ on Tutankhamun himself, as though he had an Instagram account of his own, stepping closer to his glass box to witness his eternal, unchanging glory.
But, the difference is that, instead of following random influencers and hollow content that adds little to our reality, we are following a historical figure whose legacy is rich in knowledge, art, and science; a legacy that still has the power to teach us not only about the world around us, but also about what it means to be human in today’s world.
And in doing so, perhaps we will learn to see the world again as ancient civilizations once did, guided only by the open sky above and the ground beneath their feet, in a time when nature spoke louder than any machine.
I sometimes wonder if there was a real, official Instagram account for King Tutankhamun, how much it could teach us, and how deeply it might shift the way we use social media, redefining what it truly means to press the ‘follow’ button?
Who We Follow, and Why?
After years of living most of my life through social media, I have come to understand the true power of a single ‘follow’ button, and the weight it actually carries. Because a follow is never just a follow.
It is an invitation to step inside someone’s personal museum, to enter their world, and to witness every move, every thought, and every emotion they choose to display.
Before you hit ‘follow,’ you have to ask yourself: Why am I really following this person? Why am I willingly entering their world, their curated museum? Does what they share add anything meaningful to my life, or is it just a glossy reflection of their own reality, offered with little regard for others or for the wider world?
And it seems I am not alone in this, as studies show that many in my generation — those who spent most of their lives in the early 2000s, watching technology become inseparable from daily life — are now taking a step back, reconsidering who they follow and how they engage with the world around them.
Recent studies reveal that reaching Gen Z is no longer just about spending big on a major celebrity, but about choosing micro-influencers who have a genuine, meaningful connection with their audience. It is not about idolizing authority or fame; it is about following people you trust, who bring real value to your life and resonate with your own identity.
We grew up in a time when celebrities were more visible on social media than the writers, scientists, or artists we studied in school. I still remember creating my first Twitter account and being recommended to follow a list of famous stars. At the time, being so young, I did not think much about who I was following or the power behind a single ‘follow’ button.
Looking back, I ask myself: Why did I even follow these celebrities? What real value did they bring to my life?
Back then, it seemed like just a simple ‘follow’ button. But over time, I have realized that who we allow into our digital world matters just as much as the friends we choose in real life. Just as we would not surround ourselves with people we do not align with, it is equally important to be mindful of who we follow online and what we expose ourselves to.
Popularity is no longer the measure of true influence; what matters to today’s online generation is the trust you build and the value you bring.
Bringing Ancient Figures Back Into View
It was only after a few years that my generation grew tired of following modern stars, and instead began creating Instagram and Twitter (X) accounts for ancient figures, people who, for reasons we cannot always explain, speak to us in a language that feels deeper and more powerful than current celebrities.
Today, I find myself following the X account of the Sufi poet Rumi far more than Oprah, and turning to the words of long-gone writers who, in a vast ocean of podcasts and celebrity clips, still carry a weight and meaning that feel far more substantial.
And instead of waking up to yet another promotional single from a celebrity I cannot bring myself to care about, I choose to wake up to a line from Rumi and a few words that linger with me much longer.
Ancient figures do not have to exist only inside a physical museum, sealed behind a glass box. They can live on through their own social media accounts, which are like digital museums where people can step inside, see their words, read their thoughts, and feel their reflections in a space that reaches far beyond walls.
If King Tutankhamun had his own official Instagram account, perhaps he would finally step out from behind the golden mask and reveal his human face, the one we have never been able to see.
Maybe he would share the wisdom he gathered, the poetry he cherished, or the science behind the knowledge his civilization once mastered.
But, more than anything, perhaps he would remind us that in a world where everyone is following one another, and where we spend hours gazing at each other, it is more important than ever not to chase anyone’s attention, but to follow what truly matters: the weight of the legacy we choose to leave behind.
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