Over 800 million people worldwide have one thing in common– their active use of the app TikTok. Forty-one percent of these users are between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four. Because of the app’s popularity among Generation Z, most of my friends are shocked to hear that I do not have the app. When the initial shock passes, I get one of two responses: “Good for you. I wish I hadn’t gotten it,” or “What? You are really missing out.” 

For those who are not familiar with the app, TikTok is a social media platform where you can share short videos of yourself or view videos that others have posted. The app is known for its dances, life hacks, and comedic videos. The unique outlet creates a space where there is something entertaining for everyone. You have the opportunity to create your own content or watch your friends or favorite celebrities’ videos.

With all this being said, I frequently have to explain why I have refrained from downloading the app. Naturally, I have developed a list of reasons why. 

It’s addictive

Just like any other social media platform, TikTok entails an element of addiction. Ankur Thakkar, the editorial lead of a former video-sharing app called Vine, theorized in a New York Times article that apps like these draw the viewer in because “you’re not actually sure why you’re seeing what you’re seeing.”

In fact, according to the Influencer Marketing Hub, 90 percent of users visit the app multiple time a day. Oberlo estimates that the average user spends 52 minutes per day on the platform.  Trying to balance my school workload, my sports practices, and my job is hard enough without another social media app to pull my attention away. 

It’s a burden

With all social media platforms, there comes a point where they feel like more of a job than a tool for connectivity or entertainment. Whether it is counting likes on Instagram or striving for the highest streak on Snapchat, social media apps can easily provide new or magnify pre-existing insecurities. TikTok is an entirely different ballgame.

In middle school, I had an account on a similar app, Music.ly. The platform’s premise of making and sharing videos was the same. I would critique every single movement I made in a video before posting. I strived for perfection in every post, and if I did not accomplish more likes than the last, I would take it personally. It was exhausting. To make matters worst, I would constantly check my friends’ accounts — not to enjoy their videos, but rather to see if they had more followers or likes. The app became a task that put my self-awareness on overload and generated jealous feelings towards my friends.

One could argue that my problem ewas personal, but with the great popularity of the influencer lifestyle, many teenagers are looking to get “TikTok famous.” One article describes the negative effects of the app, saying that “some students make outrageous, and even dangerous, videos to get more likes and followers.” Additionally, there are countless resources available on how to become famous through the app. 

It’s dangerously discriminatory

In the new age of technology and social media, representation of different races, ages, and genders is of utmost importance. Unfortunately, TikTok is setting inclusivity back.

Technology columnist Kevin Roose wrote in a New York Times article that TikTok is a domain where “people can let down their guards, act silly with their friends, and sample the fruits of human creativity without being barraged by abusive trolls or algorithmically amplified misinformation.”

As ideal as this sounds, it is not necessarily the case. The “For You” page on the app displays videos recommended to the user by an algorithm. An article from Intelligencer shares that the page is there even before someone likes any videos, follows any accounts, or makes any posts. The more one uses the app, supposedly, the more personalized the page is.

The same article states that “TikTok advised moderators to keep certain body types and lifestyles out of the For You section.”

The Intercept has a copy of this content policy. The content makers who are automatically filtered off of the page have features that are included in one of these categories: “abnormal body shape, chubby, obvious beer belly, obese, or too thin.”

Users are also kept off if they have “ugly facial looks” or “facial deformities.” The app’s reasoning for this is that if the content maker’s “appearance or the shooting environment is not good, the video will be less attractive, [and] not worthy to be recommended” to users.

The sad reality is that TikTok is just another social media platform where the wealthy, the young, the thin, and the beautiful will thrive.

TikTok’s greatest creation, the Hype House, is another example of this bias. Taylor Lorenz explains, in a New York Times article, that the Hype House is an exclusive group of 19 TikTok influencers. The physical home is located in Los Angeles, California and houses four of the members full time. Among other complaints, the Hype House received backlash for its lack of diversity.

In a video entitled “Hype house more like White House,” a YouTuber, Jloner, says “when you are making a group of people for kids to look up to, make it diverse.” The young influencer goes on to say that “it’s just crazy because there are young people on this app [TikTok]” and “all we see is a certain type [of person].” 

A Great Responsibility

Even with all that being said, I eventually can see myself downloading the app. If not for all the new amount of time acquired due to the quarantine, then perhaps for the comedic relief during these unfortunate times. It may sound hypocritical, but every social platform has its drawbacks. It’s certainly the case that social media apps can do a lot of good, and it’s ultimately a user’s responsibility to be conscious to guard against addiction, jealousy, insecurity, and discrimination. TikTok is supposed to be a light and fun app, and with proper care it can be just that.