Recorded by Will Tickner (he/him)
“Oh my god you guys … Will is TikTok famous!”
I choke on the bag of chips I’m wolfing down. I look up from the bean bag I’m sitting on in the common room; my floormate I’ve barely known for a week has her phone in hand and her mouth open like a codfish. She turns her screen around so everyone in the room can see my most recent video that recently surpassed 200k likes. My stomach drops, and a wave of unease crashes over me as she begins to go around the room and gleefully show everyone my account handle. By the end of the evening, everyone on my floor knew me as “the TikToker.”
A great start to my year in halls.
I’ve been regularly uploading to TikTok for about four years now. Before I sound like the biggest narcissist in Pōnkeke (a real challenge, I know), I wouldn’t consider myself to actually be “TikTok famous.” I’m nowhere near a celebrity nor an influencer—it’s just a term that people have coined when they see me pop up on their feed. According to my minimum internet research, I’m apparently a “micro-influencer,” as I only have a little over 30k followers. I don’t get perks, I don’t understand the algorithm all too well, and I’m annoyingly not eligible for the Creator Fund, no matter how often I apply. I just make silly little videos because it brings me joy, and it’s my hobby where I can express things creatively. However, the fun of it isn’t without the ugly, as there are both positive and negative aspects to getting recognized for your internet presence in the real world.
It started during lockdown, when everyone had unlimited personal time to browse the internet. I was doom scrolling a week straight, and in my covid-coma brain-rot state, I saw one of those wealthy lifestyle influencers trying to make a funny sketch about the pandemic. They were very oblivious to everyone else's experiences and living conditions, and they flopped so hard their teeth shattered against the curb. I thought to myself, ‘Why are the hot people on here so tone deaf? It’s not that hard to be relatable and funny.’ That’s when it hit me that I might have something most industry-attractive people never have; a relatable and funny personality. I began posting videos in my bedroom to see if it was that hard, and after a few months I found that it truly wasn’t. I’d make videos of myself lip-synching to funny sounds where I’d voice my opinions, beliefs and personal stories. At first I was hesitant to be vulnerable and publicly let anyone know things about me, but after a while I decided that I had too much creative energy to go to waste. I began making videos where I’d practice editing and lighting (some better than others), and I’d end up jumping on a lot of those creative trends that I’m annoyed aren’t as prevalent anymore. Four years later, and I’m still doing exactly what I was doing in highschool!
Part of the reason I post online is because it's something I genuinely enjoy doing, but I'd be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that didn’t revel in the popularity and online gratification. If anything, my presence being enjoyed by a large mass helped me survive the last few years of highschool. You could call it vain, sure, but you’re telling me there weren’t times in highschool where you didn’t need an ego boost? Everyone could have done with social self-assurance in Year 11, especially if your highschool was a field of pessimistic short poppies. It helped me reconsider how I valued what people think of me and if it mattered. Because when Emma from English says you’re “being too much,” it doesn’t mean crap when you’re one of the top results for a song she was just poorly filming a lip-sync to.
What I haven’t gotten used to is getting stopped in public when people recognize me. It doesn’t happen too often, yet it’s a fun interaction to meet and say ‘Hey!’ on the street or in line for a coffee. Usually it’s someone my age who’s ridiculously nice and I end up following back. Actually, the very first time I got recognized was during a school trip and I was an awkward mess -I kept stumbling over my words and laughing fearfully, thinking I was making a horrible impression…cut to today, and we’re great friends (I love you, Mo). However, I’ve been recognized in countless strange places I would have hoped not to happen: at work in front of my coworkers, on the beach half naked, and on a trip to Auckland with my parents. That was a fun chat where I tried to explain being “media personnel” doesn’t always equate to being a pornstar. But in spite of where it happens, it’s always nice to meet people who enjoy what I do and getting to take a photo with them…Usually I’m always the one asking for a photo with them, though (I’m allowed to be a fan of a fan, okay?)
Despite the great connections I make with my hobby, I don’t go out of my way to tell people about my account. There’s really no way of casually slipping in “Oh yeah, I’m a New Zealand TikToker'' to someone. It only ever feels boast-y and ugly, and the situation doesn’t feel right. They’ll always pull up my account and watch my most recent videos (which are never good ones), and I have to stand there in silence like a total muppet. The best course of action I’ve found is to simply not tell people and let them come across it in their own time. Anyone is more than welcome to tell me they found my TikTok and follow me, after all it is a public account. It just comes down to if you make it a big deal or not. The key is to NOT say it loudly in front of a group of people if you do find out. Sure, I’m an extroverted person, but I’m ungodly uncomfortable when everyone is scrolling through my videos At The Social Function and everyone’s giving their unsolicited criticism on the image quality of my janky iPhone.
Something that I learnt as the years go on is that I need to remember to be careful what I post. I’ve been smart enough to know not to include my personal details, but foolish when it comes to posting content on other people. My most engaging content has been instances from my real life experiences which were usually about other people, as it tended to be the most entertaining and relatable. It was easier in highschool when less people knew that I vented my grievances online, but as of recently I’ve stopped drawing too much on my actual life since a lot of people in my life see my content. It’s not wise to air out your dirty laundry publicly when there's the risk of your dirty laundry seeing it and asking “Is This Fucking Play About Us?” It’s not fair to the other person considering it’s against their own privacy, so I now always ask if I can make a video about/with a person and check if they’re all good with me posting it.
However, the biggest social aspect that I dislike about being “TikTok famous” is usually the way I’m treated when someone finds out. I’ve started noticing the change in recognition people have to me when they find out, and are more invested and intrigued in getting to know me the next day. It’s like a switch is flipped where someone that was colder and standoffish to me discovers there’s an ounce of popularity to me and they begin to grow fonder. All of a sudden, they want me to finish my story about my family trip to Australia, or don’t mind if I rattle on about Dungeons and Dragons for ten more minutes. It made me wonder if these people have the capacity to connect with me and enjoy my company without their knowledge of my social popularity from the internet. So, I just stopped telling people altogether at the risk of relationships I would value being found out to be built on “stardom.” I’d rather know someone likes me for me without it being because of the ulterior fact.
It feels strange to discuss the social aspects of my internet presence. Writing down and publicly talking about my experiences so people can gauge my perspective is weird, especially referring to myself as if I’m some celebrity and airing out my grievances with “fame.” I’m truly just some silly little freak doing what he likes online. However, looking into my account engagement and content I've been producing over time, there’s been a bit of a decline. Not because I’ve started disliking what I’m doing, but partly because I’m increasingly busy now that I'm out of highschool and trying to survive this cost of living crisis (god I could do with that Creator Fund income as of this winter). It’s also because I feel like the current era of TikTok is suddenly getting more…shit? There just seems to be less creative videos and trends occurring than there was during the Covid era, and more shitty AI voice-over Minecraft parkour garbage. I wouldn’t be surprised if I eventually retire from posting. Mark my words, it’ll either be because it stops bringing me as much joy, or because I become an Icarus and become canceled two weeks from now like countless influencers. Best case is the former, but the latter sounds like better content.
Screaming. Crying. Throwing up. Peeing my pants
Will Tickner x
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