Devastated. Alarmed. Annoyed. But most of all disappointed in a government that seems to them to have a xenophobic agenda.
Those are the prevailing feelings of young people in San Francisco coming to terms with the TikTok ban, which was slated to go into effect Sunday until an assurance from President-elect Donald Trump apparently bought the company more time.
“TikTok is terrible for mental health,” said Alex Haag, 18, a 2024 graduate of private high school Fusion Academy who thinks the addictive algorithm is a problem that merits government regulation. “But the thing about the TikTok ban is that it isn’t about mental health or the attention economy. It’s about xenophobia.”
For the 170 million U.S. TikTok users, 62% of whom are teenagers, the ban is personal and political.
More than a dozen teenagers from schools across the city and Bay Area told The Standard the TikTok ban represents a turning point in their trust in the U.S. government. They see a double standard in the way TikTok was singled out and put no real stock in the national security concerns Congress cited as the reason for banning the app.
“It feels disrespectful to young people,” said Amber Oneto, a Riordan High junior who wants to be a lawyer. She thinks Congress is out of touch, and making a big tactical error with young people especially. “I’m a big history person, and I can sort of see where the government is coming from. But if they are worried about China, banning TikTok actually makes them more like China.”
“It’s censorship,” agrees Naomi Coffman, a Lick-Wilmerding High School sophomore. “It’s an issue of censorship and free speech, because TikTok is where people are expressing their political point of views.”
Like many other teens with whom The Standard spoke, Coffman had already been trying to cut down on her TikTok usage, which averaged around two hours a day until she set a 30-minute limit.
For teens who use TikTok but want to use it less, the ban has some appeal.
“When I first heard about it, I was like, ‘Wait, this is a total good thing,’” Coffman explains. “I won’t be tempted to be on it because I won’t be able to be on it — and no one else will either. So I’m not missing out.”
But then Coffman grew alarmed about the precedent a government ban would set.
“It’s also coming at a time when they’re already kind of in control of our bodies and what we’re doing with our own bodies and our body autonomy,” she said. “And now they want to be in charge of also the media we consume, and our brains, and be in control of our minds as well.”
Haag echoed those thoughts: “Banning TikTok could bring some benefits, but the reasons for it happening could set a dangerous precedent and be harmful going forward.”
“Me and most of my friends are pretty upset about it being banned,” Lick-Wilmerding sophomore Lauren Thompson said. “Our government [is] taking away the sense of community that so many people have.”
Thompson sees a double standard in the ban, pointing to Facebook’s privacy breaches and the massive data collection by many U.S. social media companies. “I feel like the government is afraid because TikTok is really powerful,” she said, “and it makes me kind of untrusting of our government.”
Many young people who spoke to The Standard brought up that issue, pointing to the racial undertones in a viral clip of U.S. government Sen. Tom Cotton (R-Ark.) grilling TikToK CEO Shou Zi Chew.
“We’ve all seen the clip of the CEO getting questioned about his loyalty to China — he’s from Singapore,” 20-year-old Sacred Heart grad Ian Webb said. “All the old, white politicians that allowed the ban to occur are completely out of touch with reality and modern-day tech and media.”
“For a country that’s supposed to value freedom, this feels like a move toward censorship.”
Ashley Bergeron, a 24-year-old San Francisco State University student
“A Chinese company’s access to our information can’t be that much more dangerous than Google’s access to the entire world,” Haag added.
Kathy Lee, a 17-year-old student at Lowell High School, who mostly used TikTok for memes and dances, is more frustrated than sad.
“I’m annoyed I have to figure out where my favorite influencers are going,” she said, referencing the shift to Little Red Book, Instagram, and other platforms. “They keep pushing them with ‘This might be my last TikTok’ posts, but I haven’t downloaded any yet.”
The ban has broader implications for creators like Ashley Bergeron, a 24-year-old San Francisco State University student. Known for her Super 8 videography, Bergeron amassed 19,000 followers and 8.3 million likes on the platform.
“It feels like such a step backward — for our freedoms and for people like me who rely on it to connect and create,” she said. “For a country that’s supposed to value freedom, this feels like a move toward censorship.”
Bergeron’s TikTok account has led to numerous opportunities that helped her socially, and professionally. “The support I’ve found online … it’s made me feel so much less alone,” she said. “[Super 8 videography] is such a niche art form that finding clients without TikTok would’ve been incredibly challenging.”
She hopes to build out her Instagram presence now.
The loss isn’t just creative. TikTok has become a default search engine and news source. Pew Research found that 52% of teens use it for news.
“Usually the first time I hear about a major event, the first thing I see is from TikTok,” Thompson said. “It’s really special in the way that you can get information really quickly, and I just don’t know if other platforms have that same kind of ability.”
“I guess I’ll be stuck getting advice and tips from adults now,” said Oneto, who also relies on TikTok for basic information, from help with homework to thinking about what kind of career she wants. TikTok, she said, feels like a direct line into the perspectives of her generation.
“It was a huge source of connection for us,” said her friend Benjamin Reyes, also a junior at Riordan.