I am a 52-year-old suburban mom of two young adults, and I’m an unapologetic TikTok fan.
My age group typically prefers YouTube and Facebook, according to the Pew Research Center, sites with their own benefits and personalities, but I’ve adopted TikTok as one my go-to social media brands — with a dose of caution.
What do I get out of TikTok? It depends on my interests at the time. I traveled to Italy with two friends at the beginning of summer, and as part of my prep work this spring, I narrowed in on TikTok content for Venice and Florence, Volterra and San Gimignano.
By watching videos from people who live there or travel frequently, I was able to curate a list of restaurants, sights and shopping — similar to how we planned trips before the internet but with less gatekeeping and more visuals and opinions.
My next planned trip is a week in Manhattan, specifically the Upper West Side, so I’ve been perusing current reviews of coffee and bagels, cookies and pasta. If you have plans for a cruise, Disney parks, a weekend in Newport, R.I., road-tripping in an RV or just about any other adventure, it’s worth your time to consult TikTok for recommendations.
I’ve also been exploring BookTok, a subset culture that shares reviews on current literature, classics and series. I can easily find readers with similar interests and discover titles I might miss otherwise. The TikTok algorithm takes note of what you search for, what you watch and what you like (shown by pressing a heart on the screen), and then it feeds you more of the same.
Sometimes I stumble on treasures that I didn’t know I needed. Earlier this spring, for example, an Oklahoma dad shared his family’s adoption of an octopus that unexpectedly laid 50 fertilized eggs while in captivity. They then spent untold hours and dollars trying to keep dozens of baby octopuses alive. The dad has about 454,000 followers on the app, with one video viewed more than 4.4 million times. Across the world, there was a team of us rooting for the family and momma octopus Terrance and all those hatchlings. (Spoiler alert: There’s a lot of death.)
I’m fond of a photographer who roams city streets to take photos of dogs, and a former teacher who reenacts difficult conversations. I watch a couple that shares their date-night outfits before leaving for fabulous dinners and a guy from the Midwest who breaks down the daily New York Times Connections puzzle. I’ve learned a few cooking tips from private chefs in the Hamptons.
My TikTok experience is unlike anyone else’s because of the algorithm. My video feed is personalized based on who I’ve chosen to follow and what kind of videos I spend time watching. So, as with so many other aspects of our culture, I can burrow into my interests and ignore or live in denial of what else is out there.
There is also the risk of mistaking all those personalities as friends when in fact they are savvy content creators who earn money because they have thousands of followers and continue to post videos that capture attention (or because they’re partnering with brands, peddling products and earning cash through affiliate links).
TikTok users can fall prey to the illusion of making connections with others, even though we know that social media has the power to increase the effects of loneliness rather than creating community. The U.S. Surgeon General’s report last year, “Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation,” reminds us that “Several examples of harms include technology that displaces in-person engagement, monopolizes our attention, reduces the quality of our interactions, and even diminishes our self-esteem.”
As with any media source, let the buyer (or viewer) beware. About a third of Americans ages 18-29 say they gather news from TikTok. There are credible and reliable sources on the app, but there are also random users — with questionable judgment and credentials — who post and repost content. Opinions are muddled with facts, and motivations aren’t always transparent.
The future of the app remains unclear. Leadership in Washington agreed this spring to ban TikTok, so the Chinese parent company has until Jan. 15, 2025, to sell the app or cease operations in the United States. Until then, I’ll continue to find education, entertainment and inspiration from TikTok in moderation — knowing that something else will fill the void in the marketplace if needed.
We welcome your thoughts in a letter to the editor. See the guidelines and submit your letter here. If you have problems with the form, you can submit via email at letters@dallasnews.com
