The Day TikTok Went Dark

Now What?

This morning, TikTok went dark for its 170 million American users. For context, the United States has around 335 million people, so roughly half of America was an ‘active monthly user.’ These individuals— yes, a large swath of teenagers, but a not insubstantial number of adults (even boomers!)— now find themselves with quite a bit of free time.

These 170 million Americans are now looking up from their phones, perhaps for the first time in years.

It is, of course, highly probable that the TikTok ban will last no more than a handful of hours, only to be reversed by President-elect Donald Trump. This is, in fact, such a likely outcome that [Biden’s] White House press secretary Karine Jean-Pierre called TikTok’s decision to shut down operations for the day nothing more than a “stunt.”

Nevertheless, let’s pretend for just a moment that we’re actually talking about a TikTok ban, and not just a farce intended to enrich another American billionaire. Without TikTok, certainly, some influencers lost large followings, perhaps even their primary income stream. This is a travesty, particular for a culture where the uncertainty of meaningful employment (not to mention the challenges of work-life balance) mean that nearly half of Americans (not just teenagers!) want to be an influencer.

But aside from the minuscule percentage of people whose livelihoods depend on TikTok, the overwhelming majority of people lost… what, exactly? A platform that encouraged mindless shopping, supported by nearly $4 billion in advertising dollars annually? A place to numb out and scroll, occasionally sharing goofy videos with your partner or friends in lieu of actually connecting? A source of news that isn’t exactly fact-checked?

Already, people are flocking to other social media sites, calling themselves a #TikTokRefugee. But what if everyone just— stopped? Instead of looking for another source of mindless scrolling, what if you looked for an analog hobby instead?

Photo by Austin Chan on Unsplash

I never jumped on the TikTok train, but I’m no stranger to the ways that social media, doomscrolling the news, and online shopping (even if you never click “check out”) can steal your time and focus. I feel the urge to reach for my phone when I’m so. completely. over. the ‘stay-at-home-parent’ gig. I’ve gotten substantially better at choosing ‘presence’— but every New Year’s, it’s still a goal to be more present and more engaged with the people right in front of me, instead of anything happening in the digital world. I’m not knocking everything digital— there’s many a day that my sanity is saved by a podcast or music in my AirPods, connecting me to another adult while cluster-feeding a newborn or playing with my toddlers. But I also realize the tangible benefit to my children watching me make a grocery list on pen and paper, or sneaking a few pages out of a physical book rather than skimming e-books.

TikTok, as with other social media and even shopping platforms, is intentionally designed to be addictive. Some TikTok users are even celebrating the ban— as self-described “junkies,” they are ready for outside forces to regulate their addictive scrolling. I think there’s real evidence that teenagers (without the benefit of a fully developed prefrontal cortex) have even more trouble than adults regulating their own social media use. But even for the rest of us, the decline of TikTok isn’t a guarantee that we will suddenly pick up Shakespeare or learn the piano— the chances are greater that everyone will just shift their attention to YouTube, REDnote, or Bluesky.

It’s going to take real and intentional effort to shift to the analog, and no one (TikTok ban or not) will do the work for us. But do you really want to spend your one wild and precious life jumping from one billionaire’s online playground to the the next?

So this is your invitation to just sign off. Even if TikTok powers back on, you don’t have to log in again.

Instead, visit your local library or bookstore. Really watch while your kids construct imaginary worlds (and practice some deep breathing to get through the endless toddler tantrums). Play “I Spy” or try ‘table topics’ style conversation starters at the dinner table. Go for a walk or do some stretches; I would tell you to take a hike, but as a born-and-bred-Southerner, I can’t in good conscience try to convince anyone to brave the threat of sub-zero temperatures that currently have me hiding under the covers.

We— by which I mean humans, even us introverts— are meant to do life together. Our culture desperately need a resurgence of community structures and support, of real life friendships and physical ‘third-spaces’ of all kinds. This community building starts with me and you. It starts with neighbors organizing a block party or potluck, with friends who take the time to host craft or game nights. It starts with ‘showing up’ for others with more than a quick text.

So please, enjoy— and I really mean really enjoy, maybe even savor— the day without catchy dance videos and hilarious good-byes to “my Chinese spy.” Think about what accountability would help you to re-imagine your relationship with social media and screen time. And maybe one day, when we’re good and ready, the idea of ‘signing off’ the digital in favor of the analog won’t feel like such a big deal anymore.