Week 12: Processing trauma + @middleofnowhere0102 + The Subway
I’m Kira & this is my weekly highlight of notable TikTok trends and creators.
This week’s trend is one so common that I’d argue it is a cornerstone of TikTok’s culture: sharing and processing real-world trauma. (Warning: these videos are very dark and could be triggering if you have a history of rape, physical or emotional abuse, suicide, self-harm, or eating disorders. Because of the topic, I’ve left all videos as hyperlinks, instead of embedding them directly, so you know what they’re about before watching.)
For a generation that has never seen their country not at war, growing up on the brink of a climate catastrophe, living through record-high income inequality and tuition prices, it comes as no surprise that America’s youth face a mental health crisis. However, what may come as a surprise is how negative experiences appear on the social media profiles of these teenagers, defying the assumption that social media pressures users to look perfect. Teenagers use TikTok to share real-world trauma both in real time and retroactively.
When creators talk about trauma as it unfolds, videos are emotional and panicked: shell-shocked reactions after being kicked out, the violent aftermath of a breakup with an abusive boyfriend, tearful lamentations at how depression has removed all joy from previous hobbies, or preparations to sleep in a bathtub to hide from an abusive mother. Some incidents are less severe but still motivate teens to digitally process: bullying in school, feelings of loneliness, or lack of familial support.
When creators reflect on trauma that has happened in the past, their videos keep a somber tone, occasionally turning to dark humor. Some of the disclosed events happened earlier in their childhood, like divorce or an alcoholic mother. Other traumatic events happened only a few years ago, such as a rape, the death of both parents, the death of a sister, or a suicide attempt.
These TikToks are not the first example of teens using social media to share the less-than-perfect parts of life, with examples on other platforms including finstas (“fake” Instagram accounts to share content that isn’t good enough to make it to your main account) and private Snap stories.
However, TikTok’s structure provides users with an audience of strangers, unlike that of Instagram or Snapchat. So why share personal, vulnerable information about yourself to people you don’t know? Perhaps there is comfort in being heard without anyone in your day-to-day life looking at you differently. Perhaps it’s an escape when nobody in your life seems to understand. Perhaps these videos serve as virtual group therapy, allowing creators to receive support, via comments, and allowing viewers to feel less alone.
Evidence exists for all of the above. Creators are aware that they’re speaking to strangers, contrasting their openness online with their reticence offline. What’s more, they’re often pleasantly surprised at the support they receive through advice and mutual understanding. The top-rated comments on these videos are rarely critical, either vocalizing their support for the creator or commiserating themselves.
Still, there is a lot more to understand. What motivations do these creators have? Is the act of sharing enough, or are they looking for a response? And for those that view these videos, how does it help or harm them? Does it mitigate feelings of loneliness, or feed preexisting depressive thoughts? If we are to better understand the mental health of today’s teenagers, we need to meet them where they are and examine how their offline and online worlds intersect.
Let’s talk about Samantha (@middleofnowhere0102), the self-proclaimed “Mom of Tik Tok.” Her page, currently with 1.2 million followers, is devoted to discussing healthy parenting to TikTok’s teenage audience. She sells merchandise on her website with phrases like “#AntiBoomer” and “Ban Life360”, a controversial location-sharing app that allows parents to track their children’s location. She even has an upcoming meet-up with other “TikTok Parents” in Oklahoma.
On TikTok, Samantha makes two types of parenting videos: one where she speaks directly to the camera, and another where she reacts to other videos. When speaking to the camera, she shares her perspective on parenting best practices, emphasizing the importance of giving teenagers privacy and independence. She speaks about topics that have teens on the receiving end, such as drug testing, unusual punishments, and Life360.
When she duets others videos, she often morosely shakes her head as a teenager talks about their strict parents or films their parent yelling at them. In one video, as a girl’s father asks her to name someone who cares about her, Samatha invites the girl to come live in a small house on her property.
While Samantha’s words are addressed to parents, using phrases like “our kids” and “we as parents,” her platform of choice and video’s reactions make it clear that teenagers are her true audience. In a way, she is saying exactly what teenagers want to her: that “good parenting” involves giving teenagers more independence, flexibility, and autonomy. She validates teens’ frustrations by framing any hindrence to their independence as a symptom of bad parenting, shifting the blame onto their parents. She does this for non-parenting topics as well, like denouncing all homework as “bullshit.”
Unsurprisingly, Samatha’s presence on TikTok is beloved. Teenagers praise her as their favorite creator, thanking her for validating their experiences. Some creators tag her in the caption of their video, asking if the contents within (typically an argument with a parent) are normal. And while I believe that Samantha has good intentions and she helps affirm her viewers in the short-term, her videos may backfire. By casting all parental disagreements as evidence of bad parenting, her advice might unintentionally widen a rift between her teen viewers and their parents. However, in the cases of true emotional abuse from parents, hearing about empathetic parenting principles may empower young victims to (correctly) label their experience as abuse and take subsequent action.
The award for Best Spin-Off goes to these Subway employees acting out a scene in the style of The Office. This is the third episode in their mini-series, aptly dubbed The Subway, and it is delightful in its dry humor and editing.
The award for Best Illusion goes to this girl, who makes makeup bottles and brushes disappear into her mouth. I have truly watched this video at least a dozen times to try and figure out where they went, to no avail.
The award for Cutest Dance goes to this Nerds box. At seven seconds, this video’s length and energy has strong Vine vibes (#RIPvine).
Finally, the award for Best Poses goes to this son and mom duo. This video is part of a larger “posing” trend going on right now, with this video being a wholesome example.
That’s all folks! See you next week!