Democratizing clout

When he joined the video-sharing app TikTok in October, Zach Leslie wasn’t looking for clout. In TikTok, he said he saw a platform for his creative and somewhat random sense of humor.

Over Thanksgiving break, senior Zach Leslie filmed himself drinking five glasses of chocolate milk while CeeLo Green’s “F*** You” played in the background. Soon after, he uploaded it to the video-sharing app TikTok, and it blew up, amassing 3 million views and gaining 3,500 new followers.

Zach’s brush with fame from the viral video was an added bonus.

“It only really takes one, and all of a sudden you have thousands of followers, whereas in the past you may have had 100 or something,” Zach, a senior, said.

For some, however, social media can cultivate a reliance on public recognition — a fact that users and platforms alike are beginning to address.

Instagram user Emily Zhang said the obsession with social media was about something much deeper than vanity. Instead, she wanted to refine her entire lifestyle. Instagram, she said, encourages users to show only their best selves.

“I would want people to see my page and think: ‘Oh, she’s living a nice life.’ I liked posting pictures where I was with my friends or where I’m doing a hobby of mine,” Emily said. “I think those would fit into my idea of ‘these are my best moments.’”

Not everyone has a perfect life to show.

Emily said, “There are definitely instances where people feel like they can’t come forward with things that they’re struggling with, in certain areas that might not be picture-perfect.”

This fall, Instagram began hiding like counts from users in an effort to stamp out the platform’s culture of comparison. For Emily, the change was a good one, as she would often feel discouraged when her posts didn’t get the level of engagement she’d hoped for.

Since the beginning of this school year, Emily, a senior, has cut down significantly on her use of the platform, citing college applications and increased academic pressure as major, time-consuming factors. Before then, she said, Instagram had her trapped in a validation loop — wherein the more likes she got on one post, the more she needed to feel happy with the next.

“There’s always that feeling of wanting more, you know. After I reached my first post that made 100 likes, it was great for a little bit,” Emily said. “But then it was like, ‘OK, now I have to increase my following and followers, then get to the next [milestone].’”

On TikTok, Zach said there are more opportunities to be both authentic and popular.

On the app’s “for-you page,” a somewhat randomized feed of video clips, fame is not a prerequisite for inclusion, and TikToks from lesser-known users are often promoted to the same degree as those from famous users.

From budding comedians to teenage fashion icons, TikTok, he said, has democratized clout.

“One of the things that makes it cool is it’s fairly easy to, like, see content from people you haven’t necessarily seen it from before,” Zach said. “On YouTube, it’s harder to find lesser known people who make videos, whereas on TikTok you can just get on the for-you page even if you have 10 followers or whatever.”

According to Emily, Instagram has the potential to cultivate a more authentic experience, one wherein humor and refinement are equally venerated. Wistfully, she remembers how, back in middle school, people used to post spontaneous photos and silly challenges without worrying about how much engagement they’d get. Removing likes, she said, might bring some of that back.

“When I saw that this update had happened, I thought it was a step in the right direction,” Emily said. “It was a point where enough people had realized this was an issue, that this could be very damaging.”