Tik Tok, Tick Tock….
On March 13, 2020, then-President Trump declared a state of emergency for the Covid-19 Pandemic; March 31, 2020, Tik Tok is released in the US.
Perhaps it’s the greatest coincidence one can ask for at the moment when we most need entertainment and something to belly laugh about.
I met this app, like I’ve met all other data sharing apps, with resistance. Instagram, for example, was launched in October 2010. I didn’t create my own profile until May 2013. Snapchat was originally launched in July 2011 and gained popularity around late 2013. I didn’t download that app until I was well into college, in February 2018. This historical resistance I have to the latest technologies and social media sites is, in large part, due to my desire to be “different,” or, to be that one teenager that just didn’t care what others thought of them. But it also stems from a wish to remain anonymous for as long as possible. You see, all of these sites have one thing in common: they collect our data and sell it for profit. For the most part, we all know this, and we all ignore it. I’ve been grappling with this for a long time. What is the real harm? What is the problem with losing anonymity? This only creates more opportunities to create more connections, right? Isn’t joining any social media platform a quid pro quo?: my information in exchange for the tiniest bit of fame.
And this concept of fame has changed drastically in the past 20 years. In my mind, this new breed of fame has its origins in the Kardashian family. You could also argue that Paris Hilton belongs to this origin story, as she is also “famous for being famous,” and she gave Kim Kardashian her first real job in Hollywood. Everything I see on Instagram, in particular, is tied to this Kardashian strain of fame. 20 years ago, the ideal supermodel was tall, skinny, white. Now they come in all shapes and sizes. While the original idea is still somewhat dominant in our collective mindset, depending on what area of fashion you are observing, it seems that curves, tans, and short statures are on the rise. This all, obviously, has its pros and cons. Suddenly, we are seeing more and more brown and black bodies. We see models of all shapes and sizes. We see cellulite, jelly rolls, love handles. We finally see ourselves in catalog and couture. On the other hand, there is an increasing, very adamant desire to change our bodies to fit into this up and coming ideal. We tan ourselves shades darker than seems appropriate, approaching black face. We pay for medical procedures that inflate our lips and our booties. We, and if it isn’t clear enough, I’m talking about white people here, are simultaneously embracing a more inclusive aesthetic while also appropriating what was never ours in the first place.
I think about this a lot, in case you couldn’t tell. I’ve been theorizing and musing on it for years now. All of this is to say that… Tik Tok? It actually goes against this troubling trend.
If you look at all of these apps individually, what do they offer?
Instagram: An influencer status, largely based on how beautiful (Kardashian-like) you are.
Snapchat: A more casual platform to casually talk with friends, lovers, and booty-callers.
TikTok: An endless durational performance of an infinite amount of users, all of whom are real people, presenting genuine, though slightly choreographed, material.
Even when you think TikTok has betrayed you and gone down the Instagram path, there are always others objecting to the material, splicing their own experiences into those who strive to be “influencer-like.” On TikTok, there is always the danger that, if you show off your looks or your “have it together” mentality, you will be made into a meme that goes even more viral than that original video.
I think it’s no coincidence that a platform such as this gained rapid popularity in the age of Covid. Again, TikTok is an endless show, only tailoring itself more and more to you as it identifies how long you keep watching specific categories, similar users, similar content, etc. On TikTok, you can’t help but feel you’ve finally found “your people” at a time when you, more than likely, can’t really see “your people.” While many may still have concerns over the Chinese government distributing this data, it can be argued that the quid pro quo, in this case, is worth far more than it would be on any other platform.
