Windows & Mirrors
“Obviously, TikTok knows what I am going through.”
A mid-conversation record scratch of sorts that stopped me in my tracks. TikTok knows...not just my skincare routine, or new viral TikTok shop sensation, or how oddly satisfying ASMR is before bed. It knows ‘what I am going through’. My friend flippantly rattled off this little truth to me, her dear friend, waiting with anxious anticipation – What is she going through? Do I even know?
Our algorithm is a mirror.
She explained just how seen her algorithm made her feel. A mirror that played back to her exactly what was going on. It turns out her feelings were just as deep as they were wide. She saw herself in every scroll. In a world where people put on a brave face as they exclaim “oh, no not me”, social makes you feel like “you too? I thought I was the only one?”
We don’t just scroll because we are bored. We scroll in search of shared human experiences. Sometimes it is easier for us to find someone who knows how we feel, than to tell someone how we feel. One :06 video of someone sharing their anxiety journey and we feel empowered to freely share to the world our new blue nail color because it’s the same color as our Zoloft. That’s how our friends find out we take it in the first place. One small step of URL bravery launches a hopeful ripple effect of IRL steps – perhaps the bravest step of them all.
But like all mirrors, we don’t want to spend too much time in front of them. We long to feel seen, but not exposed. We want to know what we look like, but certainly not under the harsh LED of the real world. So, we comfortably nest in front of our TikTok mirrors, until our next scroll. We see a window.
Our desired algorithm: just enough windows; just enough mirrors.
Just when things get a little too real and we feel a little too seen for a little too long in all a hallway of digital mirrors we are met with a welcome escape into another world so vastly different from our own. We are thrown down a rabbit hole of wild hobbies, strange addictions, extreme oddities, leaving us feeling a little less strange than we felt opening the app.
TikTok capitalizes on our burning desire both to fit in and stand out. We have a human desperation to be different, but not feel different. We want to be fringe, but not feel fringe. We want just enough heat of the spotlight and just enough comfort of the shadows.
Remember the archaic question, “what side of TikTok are you on?” As if we could possibly choose one. What used to be sides, have become an algorithm of windows and mirrors. We want just enough windows to another world, and just enough reflection of our own. We want just enough learning, but just enough teaching. Just enough people to make us feel better, but just enough people to make us feel worse. The algorithm propels us forward: one scroll down to observe someone from far away; another scroll down to see ourselves in 4K.
Mirror. Mirror. Mirror. Window. Mirror. Window. Mirror.
Rocking you to sleep before bed.
So yes, TikTok may know what you are going through. It may give you clips, sounds, and words when you are at loss for your own. But it also knows when you need a break from your world and gives you a free one-way ticket into another. And another. And another.
