By May Ikeora-Amamgbo
It started with a scroll. A casual one. Just me, my couch, and a harmless twenty-minute break that somehow turned into an algorithm-led avalanche of gurus, coaches, strategists, and foun-ders giving tips on everything from “how to go viral in three days” to “building a six-figure brand with only Canva and vibes.”
What began as a social media ecosystem designed to connect us has become a never-ending carousel of content creators repackaging recycled wisdom as gospel. From one Instagram Reel to the next, everyone is either hosting a masterclass, selling a course, or promising to change your life with their “framework” or “system.” If you are not teaching something, are you even online?
Welcome to the era of empty expertise, where information is currency, attention is a business model, and truth is optional.
Founders, once admired for building strong companies, are now expected to double as TikTok creators. CEOs are coached on how to craft viral LinkedIn posts, not on how to retain talent or solve customer pain points. Being good at what you do is no longer enough. You must also perform it. And perform it with flair. Bonus points for carousels and Canva templates.
And then there are the self-proclaimed experts who have never done the work they teach. The copywriting coach who has never written copy for a real campaign. The sales guru whose entire revenue comes from selling courses on how to make sales. The personal finance influencer with no formal training but plenty of reels telling you to stop buying coffee.
But the real kicker? Many of them are not trying to teach at all. They are trying to sell. Not knowledge. Not growth. But access. Access to a lifestyle, an aesthetic, a fantasy.
They create just enough content to seem credible, harvest your attention, and then launch a one-size-fits-all digital product to monetise their clout. A course here. An ebook there. Maybe a limited coaching offer. And when that niche dries up, they pivot to another one. From productivity to spirituality to brand strategy. Reinvention is part of the game.
According to a 2023 report by The Hustle, 43 percent of online course creators make under one thousand dollars per year. This is not the sea of six-figure success stories we are constantly sold. The reality is that many of these “one-hit-wonder” creators are not building sustainable businesses, they are launching digital experiments. And the audience? Often left confused, underwhelmed, and more overwhelmed than when they started.
Meanwhile, those who are genuinely experienced feel forced to join the noise just to stay relevant. They trade nuance for engagement, integrity for attention. And let us be honest: deep expertise rarely goes viral. What travels fastest are punchy, overconfident claims designed to trigger emotions, not transformation.
The crisis is not just in the creators. It is in us too. As consumers, we are increasingly drawn to the theatre of it all. We prefer charisma over competence. We reward aesthetics over accuracy. A person with a strong social media presence is seen as more trustworthy than someone with ten years of field experience but poor lighting and no filters.
Knowledge is no longer something we earn, sit with, or build through mentorship and hard work. It is something we scroll through. And if it does not come with a vibe, a hook, or a monetisation strategy, it is deemed useless.
This is not a Luddite plea for a return to chalkboards and dusty libraries. It is a call for discernment. There is nothing wrong with creators making money. There is nothing wrong with packaging knowledge beautifully. But when our standards for what qualifies as expertise drop to “has a ring light and a Canva pro subscription,” we are in trouble.
Let us not confuse content with credibility.
Let us not elevate confidence over competence.
Let us not reduce education to entertainment.
This phenomenon is not without real-world consequences. A McKinsey study in 2022 found that misinformation and pseudo-expertise on digital platforms erode public trust in actual institutions, including healthcare, education, and journalism. People are being misled not only in business, but in critical areas like fertility, mental health, and finance, often with dangerous outcomes.
So where are we headed?
We are at a cultural crossroads. One path leads to an ever-expanding influencer economy that feeds off our insecurities and sells us shiny solutions with no backbone. The other? A slower, quieter road back to substance. To building businesses with depth. To respecting those who take time to master their craft. To supporting educators who are more focused on service than self-promotion.
At Raising Women, we believe in the latter. Not because it is trendy, but because it is sustainable. Because it honours both the learner and the teacher. Because it refuses to reduce wisdom to a trending audio clip.
So what should we be doing?
As consumers: ask harder questions. Who is this person? What have they actually done? Are they teaching or just trending?
As creators: reflect on the motive. Are you posting to serve or to sell? Are you building trust or just an audience?
As women trying to grow: know that you do not need to compete with noise. You do not need to turn your journey into a highlight reel. You are allowed to build slowly, quietly, deeply.
Because depth never goes out of style.
And no, you do not need to create a masterclass about it.
