The party is over—for now, anyway.
It's like a doomsday party. TikTok owner ByteDance pulled the app last night ahead of an official US ban taking effect today, but the app's most loyal users have gone a little too far. I saw someone holding up a Kermit puppet, having an emotional breakdown over the app's impending demise (or maybe just acting), with the frog's mouth opening toward the ceiling during a live stream. Duke Depp first became popular on the app for performing a striptease to Akon's "I Wanna Love You" dressed as Willy Wonka , he was spinning “WAP” on the floor. Earlier this week, Meredith Duxbury, Lexi Hidalgo and other high-profile creators revealed that some of their most successful content is based on half-truths False based - not actually using as much makeup as advertised; another person actually only did half of the workouts they talked about on the channel. Are you angry about this? There's nothing you can do now! TikTok is over.
Or at least, just for a second. President-elect Donald Trump posted on his Truth Social account that he will sign an executive order to help TikTok get back online after taking office tomorrow. TikTok said today that it was "in the process of restoring service."
Still, assuming it does return for good — Trump's plans for the long term are far from certain — TikTok may never be the same again after this. Social media is a delicate thing; too much downtime means users can turn their attention elsewhere, while too many attempts to curate culture can completely destroy its magic. Last night I soaked up as much of it as I could before shutting down. What will it look like when the worst app on the internet dies—when all users of that app die? Know Did you know in advance that this thing was going to disappear? For nearly six hours, I mainstreamed my TikTok feed. like Cabaret An infinite scroll through a kaleidoscope.
Many users held some kind of funeral and danced while wearing all black. this next level chef TikTok star Tini created the popular mac and cheese for the event. Fancam editors have released a curated collection of highlights from nearly a decade on the app. People shared the creators they miss the most and the people they want to thank for being a part of TikTok's journey. Adam Ray Okak, a TikTok star known for his unkempt, brash character Rosa, last dressed up as her, applying striped bronzer and wearing mismatched of false eyelashes and say goodbye to this app.
Over the course of the evening, the app slowly began to lose functionality: comments froze, the refresh button lagged. Posting videos has become difficult. I nervously exited the app and returned. The comment appears again. I breathed. Watched another video. A pixelated shark superimposed on stick figure legs cuts through the void, set to "Quiet Residential Area," from hamilton Soundtrack.
In my favorites folder, I scroll through hundreds of audio clips I've bookmarked over five years. The first clip is a lo-fi remix of Megan Thee Stallion’s “Hot Girl” that I saved in 2020. When I first started using the app, I was in college, downloaded it to learn the "Blueberry Faygo" dance, and was now a haggard 26-year-old me. A lot of things changed - I moved to a new city, started my career, experienced heartbreak for the first time, and posted about it all. Pedro Pascal's fan footage montage was a huge comfort to me after I went through my first layoff. The thick bean salad girl wiped my tears when I felt like I was teetering off the edge of the grocery store. Chloe Ting's two-week challenge got me through lockdown as she promises to help her followers achieve a tiny waist and a huge, earth-shattering booty.
It’s no secret that everyone’s experience with TikTok is personal: the algorithm seems to know us better than we do ourselves, at least that goes as the old saying goes. But like any social platform, the app has also meaningfully shaped aspects of our culture and politics, sometimes for good and sometimes for bad. Many people have found community on TikTok. BookTok transformed the publishing industry; creators encouraged audiences to support independent booksellers, leading to a surge in book sales. It played political: "TikTok teens" flooded Trump's 2020 rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma, with help from K-pop fans, with fake ticket reservations just to piss him off. Journalists like Bisan Owda provide unique on-the-ground reporting on life in Gaza. TikTok’s content has fueled a slew of body dysmorphia, bigotry and alt-right ideologies – and the app is also a prime suspect for declining attention spans, the rise of excessive consumerism and a general deterioration in media literacy. Such an important application deserves a dramatic exit. Maybe a soft vignette or a fade to black, or a final curtain on the whole thing. Maybe a rolling credits song or a bagpipe solo could cheer us up.
Of course, we didn't get that. Just a notification that pops up while I'm watching a video. This is the nature of TikTok, and the nature of the Internet as a whole: always changing; here today, gone tomorrow. Then, maybe...