The social gathering ended—for a second, anyway.
It was like a celebration on the finish of the world. Earlier than TikTok’s proprietor, ByteDance, pulled the plug on the app final evening—getting forward of the official ban in the USA, which took impact right now—the app’s most devoted customers have been going overboard. I watched somebody with their hand up a Kermit puppet having (or possibly simply performing) an emotional breakdown over the app’s impending demise, the frog’s mouth gaping towards the ceiling on livestream. Duke Depp, who first went viral on the app for doing a striptease to Akon’s “I Wanna Love You” whereas dressed as Willy Wonka, gyrated on the ground to “WAP.” Earlier this week, Meredith Duxbury, Lexi Hidalgo, and different high-profile creators revealed that a few of their most profitable content material had been constructed on half-truths—one truly didn’t use as a lot make-up as marketed; one other had truly achieved solely half the exercises they’d talked about on their channel. You’re mad about it? Nothing you are able to do now! TikTok’s over.
Or at the least, it was for a second. President-Elect Donald Trump posted on his Fact Social account that he’ll signal an government order after he’s inaugurated tomorrow to assist convey TikTok again on-line. TikTok mentioned right now that it’s “within the means of restoring service” already.
Nonetheless, assuming that it does truly come again for good—Trump’s plan is much from a positive factor in the long term—TikTok might by no means be the identical after this. Social media is a fragile factor; an excessive amount of downtime means customers can divert their consideration elsewhere, and too many makes an attempt to curate the tradition can destroy its magic altogether. Final evening, I took in as a lot of it as I may earlier than the shutdown. What wouldn’t it appear like when the web’s brain-rottiest app died—when the entire app’s customers knew effectively upfront that the factor was on its approach out? For practically six hours, I mainlined TikTok’s feeds. It was like Cabaret by the kaleidoscope of the infinite scroll.
Many customers held a funeral of kinds, dancing in all black. The Subsequent Stage Chef breakout TikTok star Tini made her viral mac and cheese for the event. Fancam editors posted smash-cut compilations of highlights from the app’s near-decade run. Individuals shared the creators they’d miss essentially the most, the individuals they needed to thank for being a part of their TikTok journey. Adam Ray Okay, a TikTok star recognized for his raveled and brash character, Rosa, dressed up as her one final time, full with stripes of bronzer and misplaced false lashes, to say goodbye to the app.
The app slowly started to lose capabilities all through the night: Feedback froze and the refresh button lagged. Posting movies grew to become troublesome. Nervously, I exited the app and went again in. Feedback reappeared. I breathed. Watched one other video. A pixelated shark superimposed onto stick-figure legs walked by a void, set to “It’s Quiet Uptown” from the Hamilton soundtrack.
In my favorites folder, I scrolled by the a whole lot of audio clips I’d bookmarked over 5 years. The very first clip was a lo-fi remix of Megan Thee Stallion’s “Scorching Woman” that I saved in 2020. I used to be in school after I first began utilizing the app, downloading it to study the “Blueberry Faygo” dance, and now I’m haggard on the age of 26. A lot has modified—I moved to a brand new metropolis, started my profession, skilled heartbreak for the primary time, and posted by all of it. The Pedro Pascal fancam edit cradled me after I skilled my first layoff. The dense-bean-salad lady wiped my tears after I felt like I used to be about to teeter off the sting on the grocery retailer. Chloe Ting’s two-week problem bought me by lockdown together with her guarantees to assist her followers attain an itty-bitty, teeny-tiny waist and a big, earth-shattering butt.
Everybody’s expertise with TikTok is, famously, particular person: The algorithm appears to know us higher than we all know ourselves, or so the cliché goes. However the app has additionally meaningfully formed features of our tradition and politics, generally for good, generally for unhealthy, as with every social platform. Many individuals discovered neighborhood on TikTok. BookTok remodeled the publishing business; creators inspired viewers to help indie booksellers and prompted books gross sales to skyrocket. It performed a political function: “TikTok teenagers,” with assist from Okay-pop stans, flooded Trump’s 2020 Tulsa, Oklahoma, rally with pretend ticket bookings simply to mess with him. Reporters like Bisan Owda offered distinctive, on-the-ground reporting about life in Gaza. TikTok’s feeds pushed large quantities of physique dysmorphia, prejudice, and alt-right strains of thought—the app has additionally been a primary suspect within the decline of consideration spans, the rise of hyper-consumerism, and the final deterioration of media literacy. Such a consequential app deserved a significant fade-out. Maybe a smooth vignette or fade to black, or a ultimate curtain over the entire thing. Perhaps a rolling-credits tune or a bagpipe solo to play us out.
We didn’t get that, after all. Only a pop-up notification as I used to be halfway by a video. That is the character of TikTok, and actually the web general: all the time shifting; right here right now, gone tomorrow. After which, possibly …
