The occasion ended—for a second, anyway.
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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 at the moment—the app’s most devoted customers had 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 completed 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 a minimum of, it was for a second. President-Elect Donald Trump posted on his Reality Social account that he’ll signal an government order after he’s inaugurated tomorrow to assist carry TikTok again on-line. TikTok mentioned at the moment that it’s “within the means of restoring service” already.
Nonetheless, assuming it does truly come again for good—Trump’s plan is way from a certain factor in the long term—TikTok could 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 might earlier than the shutdown. What would it not appear like when the web’s brain-rottiest app died—when the entire app’s customers knew nicely prematurely that the factor was on its manner out? For almost six hours, I mainlined TikTok’s feeds. It was like Cabaret by way of the kaleidoscope of the infinite scroll.
Many customers held a funeral of types, 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 might miss probably 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 matted 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 features all through the night: Feedback froze and the refresh button lagged. Posting movies grew to become tough. 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 way of a void, set to “It’s Quiet Uptown,” from the Hamilton soundtrack.
In my favorites folder, I scrolled by way of the tons of of audio clips I’d bookmarked over 5 years. The very first clip was a lo-fi remix of Megan Thee Stallion’s “Scorching Lady” that I saved in 2020. I used to be in school once 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 way of all of it. The Pedro Pascal fancam edit cradled me after I skilled my first layoff. The dense-bean-salad woman wiped my tears once I felt like I used to be about to teeter off the sting on the grocery retailer. Chloe Ting’s two-week problem obtained me by way of 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 elements of our tradition and politics, generally for good, generally for dangerous, as with every social platform. Many individuals discovered group on TikTok. BookTok reworked the publishing business; creators inspired viewers to help indie booksellers and triggered books gross sales to skyrocket. It performed a political position: “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 traces 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 comfortable vignette or fade to black, or a closing curtain over the entire thing. Possibly a rolling-credits music 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 way of a video. That is the character of TikTok, and actually the web general: at all times shifting; right here at the moment, gone tomorrow. After which, possibly …