We’re at the point in the TikTocalypse where Americans are downloading RedNote, learning Mandarin and calling themselves #TikTokRefugees, which could be a sign that we’ve moved onto the acceptance phase of grief. Things aren’t looking good for the app’s future in the US – the Supreme Court heard a challenge to the law that would pull the plug on TikTok on January 19, but they seem poised to uphold it, and now some lawmakers are urging President Joe Biden for an extension. Still, for every creator who feels sentimental at the thought of losing their “digital diary” and TikTok community, another swears that the app has been heading downhill for a while, filled with TikTok Shop ads and algorithm changes. So, putting the impending US ban aside, has the golden age of TikTok already come to an end?

When speaking about TikTok’s “golden age,” many people reference pre-2022 TikTok – a time of jovial dance challenges, high school prom videos and writing on paper backwards for videos. According to Ioana Literat, associate professor of communication, media and learning technologies design at Teachers College, Columbia University, this was a moment when the platform experienced explosive growth in user engagement, cultural influence and creative innovation. My take is that this label reflects nostalgia for a time when TikTok felt fresh and democratic, as well as a recognition of the app’s ability to amplify voices and shape culture,” she says.

There are countless theories on how and why the app strayed from its (cringe but free) light. DIY creator Erika Christiansen swears her For You page went downhill after TikTok’s US server data moved from China to America, and YouTuber Amanda Golka says the constant plugging of products and hyper-focused algorithm has made the app “hostile for the user”. “Who needs a US Government ban when people are just going to jump ship?” she posted in August 2024. For Literat, it comes down to a few key shifts between 2020 and 2024: more polished content replacing early “authentic” amateur videos, more sophistication in content categorisation, a greater emphasis on regional content personalisation, growth in long-form content, and a shift from pure engagement metrics to watch time and completion rates.

Actor, filmmaker and TikTok content creator James Tang believes the TikTok vibe shift occurred in the summer of 2023. “That’s when it felt like the algorithm shifted to be more search engine focused, as well as pushing TikTok Shop,” he says. “I feel like TikTok doesn’t seem to care about creators at all, in some aspects, so, mentally, I’ve stopped thinking of TikTok as my main platform for a while now.” Tang was previously part of the app’s Creator Fund but would only make around $200 for videos with 20 million views. Still, during his peak engagement on the app in 2021, when he posted emotional thirst traps as an “internet boyfriend”, he gained his first 100k followers in only a few months. At the time, the constant growth and opportunity to go viral quickly made up for his not feeling passionate about having to feed the algorithm with one meme-ified character.

I feel like TikTok doesn’t seem to care about creators at all, in some aspects, so, mentally, I’ve stopped thinking of TikTok as my main platform for a while now

As TikTok’s algorithm became more sophisticated and opaque, Literat says there have been growing concerns about the platform losing its “grassroots, democratising spirit”. This may be the somewhat intangible essence many people now feel is missing. In her latest book, Not Your Parents’ Politics, co-authored by Neta Kligler-Vilenchik, she traced TikTok’s political roots back to the platform’s earlier iteration as musical.ly. “TikTok’s ability to lower barriers to political engagement lies at the heart of its appeal to younger generations,” she says. “Young people today are not just passive consumers but active creators of political narratives, using the app to document protests, critique politicians or explain complex issues through memes.”

TikTok is by no means a perfect social media app: there’s an underlying tension between its ability to elevate grassroots voices and the prioritisation of virality. “This can sideline more nuanced or challenging political content,” says Literat, therefore making way for the recent wave of misinformation and far-right content. But there’s no denying that the app still excels at delivering hyper-personalised content (which is sometimes too scarily personalised). There’s also still the possibility of reaching stardom off the app alone – which is why Julia Broome, a social media expert and founder of Workhorse, says it’s not over. “For the golden age to be considered over, there would need to be something that’s considered next,” she says. “I don’t think anything has taken TikTok’s place quite yet.”

In defence of TikTok still being in its prime, Broome points to Jools Lebron inspiring everyone to adopt the word “demure” last year and The HillsSpencer Pratt reviving his relevancy (again) on the app. “Businesses with no influencer attached can sell out their products, and creators with no followers can go viral all because of TikTok,” she says. “If a ban wasn’t in the question, I’d be more inclined to say the golden age is just getting started, and that’s largely due to TikTok’s user-first algorithm.” However, the potential ban exists, and the app’s impact will linger despite the outcome. “Users will continue to seek platforms that prioritise creativity, community and authenticity,” says Literat. “But TikTok’s legacy as a cultural phenomenon will be hard to replicate.” (Bad news for those who have already downloaded RedNote and Lemon8.)