I’ve lived my best life in the social media margins. As a closeted queer girl growing up in a red state in The Middle of Nowhere, USA, my Effy Stonem stan Tumblr was the closest thing I had to a queer community. That community of online strangers – so full of love, creativity, and devotion to black and white GIFs of Kaya Scodelario – is what got me through my darkest times. I wasn’t there for likes or reposts or follows – but the serotonin those provided was an added bonus – I was there to see myself reflected on screen because I wasn’t seeing myself onscreen or IRL.

Now, a decade later, struggling with a dark degree of depression I haven’t grappled with since high school and unable to see friends or family in person, I am finding solace once more in a community of strangers. And this community has more queer representation than the entire Greater Area of Los Angeles (not a single lesbian bar, thank you very much). TikTok is full of proud and out queer and trans folx, activists, and eye makeup innovators – plenty of users are an intersection of all three.

What sets TikTok apart as a social media platform is the impression of democracy – anyone can go viral, as long as someone is recording and uploads it to the For You Page (FYP). Every TikTok user has a FYP, carefully curated by the TikTok algorithm, which suggests videos to your FYP based on all content you have previously engaged in, be it hashtags, creators or trends. This curation allows for users to engage with content they would probably like – navigating within a subsection of TikTok.

As the trailblazers of social media and finding community wherever we can find it, the queer community has a large subsection of TikTok. Between #lesbiantiktok, #bitok, #lgbtqtiktok, #gaytiktok and plenty more hashtags, we have found our own and made ourselves at home. Many users in queer TikTok – occasionally self-referred to as the “Alphabet Mafia” – have voiced their realizations that in some ways, the LGBTQIA+ space in TikTok has created a miraculous bubble where everyone is bisexual, kinky and mentally ill. Because of this, there is a shared concern that re-entering the “real world” will be a bit of a learning curve for those of us in queertok. 

Like it or not, with easier internet access than ever before, kids have access to all the information and social media they could ever want to engage with. It is no coincidence that Gen Z has been labeled as the “gayest generation” because with information, there is less fear. This has created a presence of mass representation on social media and this is how we fight back: by merely existing, sharing our stories and supporting the voices of those that don’t have access to a TikTok account. 

The visibility TikTok offers for members of the queer community often overlooked, combats homophobia, transphobia, biphobia and erasure of these identities – in turn inspiring others who might be struggling with their own identities to come to turn with their validity. This is a huge win for the community.

The system is by no means perfect. Creators like @anania – a Black bicon (bisexual icon), who has made a brand for himself of running around New York City yelling perfect Gen Z nonsense about getting railed in a Wendy’s bathroom or thinking up strategies for the impending race war, was very transparent about getting kicked off of the creator fund and being unverified by TikTok for no good reason. @hawkhatesyou – a successful bisexual sex worker – recently had her account deleted and all money in her creator fund disappeared along with it. Hawk has publicly made peace with being banned and called out TikTok for its homophobic censoring process that would ban her account but leave accounts that perpetuate hate speech on the app. 

TikTok is notorious for flagging videos and putting them “under review” or taking them down even when nothing in the video violates the TikTok terms and conditions. This “arbitrary” algorithm often seems to target marginalized creators and does nothing to offer support. Proud bisexual Bimbo @chrissychapalecka has recently suffered from this phenomenon where TikTok flags every video she attempts to post, the result of an incel creator who has directed his followers to cyber bully Chrissy’s account. It is important to remember that TikTok – like any social media – will naturally benefit the privileged: cis, white, straight, rich, male creators – boosting the careers and voices that need no assistance. 

Many users have connected their Instagram accounts to TikTok, where they can attempt to dodge the slightly less intense censors there. Over the summer, Instagram proved to be as crucial a social justice weapon as Twitter was during the Arab Spring in 2011 – activists such as @janayathefuture and @ospatrisse have used their profiles to fight white supremacy. @mattiv is now a viral queer icon thanks to his makeup artistry on Instagram and the social justice messages penned in eyeliner across their perfect cheekbones. Plenty queer Gen-Z TikTokers straddle the use of all social platforms, like powerful co-leaders of the Bimbo movement, @griffinmaxwell and @chrissychapalecka. 

These queer creators, because of their visibility and the target on their back created by the blue check of verification, face a daily barrage of hatred in their DMs and hordes of thin-skinned SWM in their comments. Considering the emotional troll toll and the double standard of censors, it is a wonder creators stay producing content. But if there’s one thing that the queer community does, it’s survive. 

Burch-Hudson was born in California with storytelling in her blood, as her mother and father are from the Deep South, where tall tales are still currency. She was raised in the Midwest where her creativity only managed to get her into plenty of trouble, but finally, the hell out of Dodge.

Burch-Hudson is now an award-winning filmmaker and writer based in Los Angeles. While her mind still gets her into trouble, she has learned to wrestle her demons into her writing and feminist filmmaking.