By Becca Pospisil, Chief Analyst

Last week my eleven-year-old cousin came to me asking if I thought she was fat. When questioned about what led to this newfound concern with her weight, she replied, saying a girl on Tiktok showed her how to calculate her BMI (body mass index), and hers did not indicate that she was underweight like the original creators did. With guilt in her eyes, she confessed that even after not eating breakfast and doing jumping jacks every day, she’s seen no changes. Within the 25 seconds it took to watch the video, the 35 seconds to look up the website the creator recommended, and the two minutes to input her weight and height, she has now ingrained within herself that what the scale reads takes priority over being healthy. Three minutes and my little cousin has now begun to skip meals. Mental health struggles in pre-teens and teens are issues increasingly prevalent in today’s culture, and a dangerous tie between the rise in mental health crises and teenagers can be found in social media—specifically TikTok.

While most forms of social media often inflict negative consequences on the user, the effects seen from Tiktok are enhanced—a more amplified version of the negative parts of other social media. Its uniqueness factor lies within what content gets the most exposure algorithmically. A study conducted by the Center for Countering Digital Hate posed adults as young teenagers and had them search and like mental health-related content to get a handle on what videos were most often viewed by those in that age bracket (“Deadly by Design” 2022). Revealed were concerning statistics indicating that negative and harmful content appeared on their feed every 39 seconds, and content revolving around or mentioning suicide popped up in less than 3 minutes once joining. Teenagers want to feel understood and have a space free of judgment, and many attempt to achieve this by bonding with others through the relatability of their mental health problems. The issue with building a community where the common ground shared between users is how miserable and unhappy they all are is that it then creates an environment prone to encouraging unhealthy ideas and habits. While TikTok claims to employ methods of monitoring and censoring harmful content, loopholes such as users using the hashtag “EdSheeranDisorder” to disguise eating disorder discourse as content about a singer are easily found. Young social media users know their apps well, including how to get around possible content-blocking mechanisms designed to protect them from body-negative content. Being immersed in an algorithm curated to encourage unhealthy lifestyles is dangerous to anyone, but especially vulnerable teenagers in search of guidance. The all-consuming need to “fit in” that often accompanies being a teenager makes them all the more susceptible to falling down the rabbit hole of whatever habits and coping mechanisms are pushed towards them, healthy or otherwise.

Many users go so far as to aestheticize their suffering; a popular genre composed of videos filmed of crying whilst lip-synching trending songs—an attempt to portray the pain of mental illnesses as something “beautiful” and “fascinating,” something that grants access into an exclusive club of those who have experienced the same pain, therefore a level of understanding not everyone can reach. This romanticization of mental disorders only acts as an encouragement for others to view them as niche adjectives that make a person more interesting and unique, further taking away from the severity and gravity of mental health issues as a whole (“Are You Romanticizing” 2020). Trying to improve one’s mental health is a non-linear process, and it requires an acceptance of where one is in order to grow and heal. There is nothing wrong with allowing oneself to feel emotions, but there is a definitive line between feeling negative emotions to work through them and indulging in them as a security blanket. Trying to “get better” can be hard work, and it’s easy to be comforted by the security and stability of self-wallowing. This is amplified when a teenager is surrounded by content that makes mental illness look trendy and chic and recovery and seeking help unappealing.

While trying to navigate the convolution of adolescence, it’s common for teenagers to feel discontent with themselves. Whether it’s their body image, social class ranking, or unique insecurities specific to them, a longing for what they don’t have (and resentment towards the things they wish they didn’t) is a feeling shared by many. This sort of pre-existing jealousy, coupled with perfectly-curated 25-second videos, can act as a breeding ground for new insecurities. A study conducted by the Indonesian Journal of Learning Studies surveyed 41 teenagers on the way they viewed themselves and if their original opinions changed once using Tiktok regularly. It was shown that the app significantly decreased self-esteem, with 20 respondents reporting that, after viewing Tiktok influencers, they began feeling insecure about their own identities and talents (Green 2022). To divulge further, 26 out of the 41 participants (63%) felt they grew increasingly insecure once seeing more “succesful” creators (Green 2022). The average length of a TikTok gives just enough time to showcase all the “good things” in their life (i.e. the “perfect” body, house, significant other, etc.) without acknowledging that what they are showing is rarely genuine. This illusion of perfection creates a distorted perception of what peoples’ lives really look like, and when the average teenager inevitably compares their life with what they see on their algorithm, feelings of insecurity and self-consciousness often arise. An example of this can be found within a very popular trend on Tiktok called “body checking.” This is when a user showcases the thinness or desirable shape of their body, often in an attempt to receive validation in their conventional attractiveness and reassure their own insecurities. When mindlessly scrolling through one’s feed and seeing people with seemingly perfect bodies posing in ways to make their thinness apparent, it’s likely many don’t stop to think about how meticulously crafted those videos really are. There are many ways people contort themselves to appear differently than how they present in real life—standing in ways to make their thigh gap more defined, sucking in their stomach to make it seem flatter, flexing their muscles—all tricks users can use to deceive their audience into believing that they don’t possess the standard flaws or imperfections that everyone else has.

Though the aspect of toxicity present in this online space is undeniable, it can feel like a safe haven for many. Being accepted and loved unconditionally is what teenagers yearn and strive for, and the app can offer a glimpse of what that can feel like in some capacity. Being surrounded by those who are grappling with similar struggles and obstacles can provide a source of comfort—a sense of validation in the fact that they are not alone. Conceptually, this app has the potential to grant teenagers a place to conduct healthy discussions about mental health with peers and even help break down the decades of rampant stigmatization surrounding it; instead, it has fostered negativity (Yurkevich 2022). With the algorithm pushing videos promoting unhealthy behavior and users founding relationships solely built on their shared mental illness, it’s nearly impossible to find examples of what “healthy” looks like on the platform. The line between empathization and encouragement often gets blurred on Tiktok. Not only does it make it harder for teenagers affected by mental illness to heal and grow when constantly being discouraged by others’ negativity, but it also makes it harder to want to heal and grow—to try and do what so many others are saying they cannot.

Regardless of social media influence, being a teenager is challenging. There is no wrong or right way to navigate this developmental period, and regardless of the support and guidance teenagers receive from the adults in their life, they must still learn to grow into themselves and find out who they are and who they want to be. This is a process that cannot (and should not) be solved or quickened by an app. Instead of relying on Tiktok, teenagers should seek to build communities and connections in spaces that offer the healthy support that Tiktok lacks. Tiktok can offer short-term amusement, but the psychological consequences that can follow the minute-long videos are often not worth the momentary gratification one receives from them. While it’s possible to use Tiktok moderately and responsibly, it is important for users to remain mindful of what they are seeing—content should never make a user feel unworthy or unhappy with themself. No one is as perfect as they are online.

Becca Pospisil is a 9th grade student on the editorial team for Valley Unveiled. She plays girls flag football and is involved in student interact club and French club. Becca is passionate about writing and plans to pursue it as a career. When not at school, she enjoys reading, playing guitar, and listening to music.

References

“Are You Romanticizing Bad Mental Health?” 2020. The Meadowglade, January 20. https://themeadowglade.com/romanticizing-bad-mental-health/.

“Deadly by Design.” 2022. Center for Countering Digital Hate. https://counterhate.com/research/deadly-by-design/.

Green, Allie. 2022. “OPINION: TikTok can cause negative psychological effects on its users.” The Sentinel, October 27. http://theksusentinel.com/2022/10/27/opinion-tiktok-can-cause-negative-psychological-effects-on-its-users/.

Yurkevich, Vanessa. 2023. “Why experts worry TikTok could add to mental health crisis among US teens.” CNN, January 11. https://www.cnn.com/2023/01/11/tech/tiktok-teen-mental-health/index.html.