I've Loved TikTok for 6 Years. But the US App Lost Its Secret Sauce

On Tuesday afternoon, I made one of the biggest decisions of my life: I deleted TikTok from my phone. 

As dramatic as that characterization may sound, I assure you it's fitting. Over the last six years, TikTok has been a trusty companion that's consumed an immeasurable amount of my free (and not-so-free) time. But as new app ownership takes over in the US, something has irrevocably changed. The algorithm, which once made TikTok so addicting, has been missing the mark, and people are noticing.

Along with billions of other people around the world, I've spent countless hours on TikTok laughing over the silliest videos. I've bonded with strangers who share my interests and sense of humor, and made niche references that only other people who are chronically online would understand. And I've enjoyed the thrill of watching my videos go viral -- a feat I rarely achieved on any other social network, no matter how hard I tried. 

All of these elements made TikTok my favorite social platform -- though it certainly has its issues. Misinformation spreads far and fast. Negative body image can be exacerbated by content on the platform, and sponsored videos often go unlabeled. TikTok's bite-sized videos seem to have zapped our collective attention spans (watching a movie without picking up my phone feels like a Herculean feat). The app thrives on promoting short-lived trends and "viral" products no one needs. And like other social media sites, TikTok has recently been overrun by AI slop, though it's testing measures to address the issue.

Still, much of the content I found on TikTok was relatable, helpful, educational and entertaining. The app offered a welcome reprieve from the chaos of life, beginning with a pandemic and continuing into an ever-more-contentious political climate -- as well as personal ups and downs. When I needed an escape, I'd pull up TikTok and instantly feel better. The laughs were practically guaranteed, thanks to an algorithm that knew me so well. 

I never expected to ditch TikTok so suddenly. Especially since I remained loyal to the app despite alleged data-privacy concerns tied to its Chinese parent company, ByteDance. How could I walk away from something that kept me so entertained and informed? When TikTok (temporarily) went dark in the US last January, I was shocked that something so beloved could disappear. 

Now, while I can technically still access TikTok, it feels like it's truly gone.

What made TikTok special

When I joined TikTok in January 2020, it was a welcome reprieve from the overly curated content that had taken over Instagram. Instead of aspirational posts peddling 30-step makeup routines or unrealistically pristine homes, TikTok served up people dolling out unhinged skits, relatable rants and hilarious impressions. Creators could get thousands, if not millions, of views without looking like a Kardashian. Being authentic was all that mattered. Anyone had a shot at being widely promoted by the algorithm, regardless of their follower count. 

Over the years, more of that sponsored, influencer-driven content crept onto TikTok as well. But the app maintained its fair share of unpolished genuineness as well. For every model flaunting perfect skin and a designer wardrobe, a handful of everyday people graced my For You page rocking messy buns and mismatched pajama sets while belting Taylor Swift songs. 

TikTok also became a place for community, as well as emotional support and validation. Whenever I had trouble navigating friendships or professional challenges, or simply wondered if anyone else felt the same way about something as I did, I'd go to TikTok. Without fail, I'd stumble upon something that answered my questions or helped me feel seen. TikTok also became a place where voices that are often suppressed by traditional media or other social media platforms could be heard.

All good things must come to an end

Late last week, as TikTok's US operations began shifting to new ownership, American users got an alert about the app's updated terms of service. "So it begins," I thought, not knowing just how drastic and immediate the changes would be. 

The privacy policy itself wasn't particularly startling. Despite apprehension about the invasiveness of TikTok's new terms, experts pointed out it didn't vary much from the company's existing guidelines -- apart from, most notably, more precise location data tracking (unless you opt out). I've long abandoned the notion that social media platforms care about protecting user privacy, so it didn't surprise me that TikTok was further extending its reach into our personal data.

Rather, what shocked me was just how much the experience of using TikTok changed, seemingly overnight. 

Suddenly, the For You page didn't feel tailored to my interests at all. My feed was cluttered with undisclosed paid promotions for products I didn't want, irrelevant home-maintenance videos (I don't own a home) and cheesy thirst traps. I could scroll through 20 videos and not laugh once -- an unprecedented phenomenon. I'd close the app, wondering what was going on, only to try again an hour later and have the same experience. (TikTok hasn't responded to my request for comment on the unlabeled paid promotions.)

This appears to be the result of TikTok retraining its algorithm based on US user data. It won't be easy to replicate the "secret sauce" that made TikTok so addicting, and I don't have the patience to hang about as the new owners figure it out (or not). I also worry American users will be less likely to see trending content from around the world, leading to a more insular experience. 

For several days, I wondered if TikTok was just having a "bad day." But I soon realized this was probably just the new reality. The golden days were over.

TikTok's fall from grace

Early this week, US-based TikTok users began flagging major issues. Some reported slower load times and timed-out requests. Others noted a more concerning problem: Political content had seemingly disappeared from their feeds, especially as anti-ICE protests take place across the country. Many creators said videos had drastically lower engagement, with some stuck at zero views. 

In a Monday statement, TikTok attributed these issues to a "power outage at a US data center," noting that it was working to resolve them. It also denied censorship allegations.

But there's been an irreversible shift. TikTok's new ownership for US operations was presented as a way to address concerns about China accessing users' personal data. The new entity, called TikTok USDS Joint Venture LLC, says it'll "secure US user data, apps and the algorithm through comprehensive data privacy and cybersecurity measures." 

Many are skeptical. Given that President Donald Trump approved the investors for TikTok's new US venture, some worry political bias will warp what they see, or don't see, on the platform. On Monday, California Governor Gavin Newsom said on X that he's "launching a review into whether TikTok is violating state law by censoring Trump-critical content." 

After days of hoping the algorithm would once again give me something, anything, that appealed to my interests, I decided to pull the plug. I shared this major life event on my Instagram stories, and was greeted with more than a dozen replies from people who said they'd done the same. 

According to Sensor Tower data reported by CNBC, removals of the TikTok app have shot up by around 150% following news of the joint venture's US takeover. The old TikTok feels like an irretrievable relic of the past.

Perhaps this is ultimately a good thing. I've long wanted to cut back my screen time, and TikTok has been the biggest culprit, with its endless wave of perfectly curated videos. But at last, I've managed to pry myself away from this once magnetic, time-sucking force. 

Maybe now, I'll have more time to read or take walks after work. I spent my Tuesday evening writing this instead of scrolling through my phone, which definitely felt more productive.

Realistically, I'll probably just end up wasting my time on YouTube instead.