TikTok 's algorithm can make users feel like the app is reading their minds.- Four women who previously only dated men said TikTok made them realize they were actually
queer .
Alayna Fender was scrolling through TikTok on her sofa when she fell into uncontrollable sobs. Her ex-fiancé and partner of 10 years had moved out two weeks earlier, but Fender wasn't crying because she missed him.
Instead, Fender had been moved to tears by a TikTok video of two
"I thought, 'Oh, I wish that could be me, but it's not my life. I made my choice.' Then I paused and realized, 'Wait a minute. That could be my life now,'" Fender told Insider.
Before joining TikTok in 2019, Fender had identified as bisexual for six years. But she said she stuffed down her feelings about women and exclusively dated men.
As the app's algorithm showed her video after video of feminine-presenting lesbians — women who looked like her, but who rarely appear in traditional media — she was filled with emotion.
"Every time I went on TikTok, I was faced with these feelings," Fender said. "I was faced with these other people who were living a life that I wished I could be living." She decided to come out as a
Fender is one of four women who told Insider that TikTok's algorithm led them to a later-in-life queer awakening. All had previously identified as straight, or had only had heterosexual relationships.
The women said they joined TikTok to escape pandemic boredom or despair, only to find themselves drawn to videos of women kissing, dancing sexily in thirst traps, or discussing compulsory heterosexuality — the idea that women are socialized to assume they must like and be in relationships with men.
As their "For You" pages filled with queer content, the women began to question the years they spent solely pursuing relationships with men. Three have since come out as lesbians, and one as queer. All said their time on the app was an earth-shaking experience, as they discovered an alternative to popular
"When they threw a queer TikTok at me, it stuck, and now I'm dating women and seeing all these amazing women-loving-women couples on my feed," Natalie Kelley, a 25-year-old content creator, told Insider. "It feels really validating and really cool to have that in my life."
TikTok's algorithm rapidly led the women to queer content
At age 49, Vanessa Williamson had been off the dating market since 2017. Prior to that, she had only dated men occasionally, and never for more than a few months at a time, when the relationship would fizzle out.
In 2020, Williamson's sister suggested she join TikTok. As Williamson initially scrolled through the app, she saw lots of cute dog and cat videos. Then came the videos of political views Williamson didn't agree with, so she kept scrolling, she said. When she got to a series of videos showing beautiful women with short hair, or ones talking about signs that a viewer might be
"After you see five or six of those, you start to think to yourself, 'I keep seeing me,'" Williamson said.
TikTok uses an algorithm designed to push people into niche communities. According to a New York Times report, TikTok's engineers created an equation that evaluates each click and like a user makes, and how much time they spend on a given video. As the algorithm obtains more of this data, it feeds viewers more videos like the ones that previously caught their attention. To users, it can often feel like TikTok is reading their mind's deepest musings.
The three other women told Insider they had similar experiences to Williamson's. Initially, their TikTok FYPs would feed them trendy dances from some of the platform's biggest faces, like Addison Rae. After a few weeks, those "straight" videos were replaced with increasingly frequent videos of queer women.
Kelley initially assumed the increase in queer content was a sign she was a great LGBTQ ally.
But when she couldn't stop watching a TikTok of a strikingly beautiful woman, she said she felt confused about her sexuality for the first time ever.
For some women, TikTok removed the veil of 'compulsory heterosexuality'
Kelley said she wasn't exposed to many gay relationships prior to joining TikTok. But everything clicked when she saw a TikTok video that explained compulsory heterosexuality, pointing her to a viral Google document on the subject.
"Women are taught from a very early age that making men happy is our job," Anjeli Luz, the document's creator, wrote. "We're supposed to be pretty for men, we're supposed to change the way we talk so men will take us more seriously, we're supposed to want a man's love more than anything else … When you're trained from childhood to see romantic/sexual relationships with men — and only men — as major life goals, how do you separate that from what you want?"
@nat.kelley really didn’t see that coming but thank u tiktok #lgbtqtiktok #lgbtq #lgbtqpride #wlw #wlwtiktok #lgbtqportland #lateinlifelesbian #lateinlifelesbian️ #comphetlesbian ♬ original sound - dylanmmills
"Once I started hearing terms like that, it kind of gave me this window to crawl through," Kelley said. "I was like, 'Oh, this is an experience other people have had, and I'm allowed to embody this experience.'"
While Kelley first read the document in mid-2020, it wasn't until she moved to Portland, Oregon, and discussed her feelings with a friend and a therapist, that she felt empowered to come out as a lesbian in early 2021.
Williamson said she had a similar experience. She dated men out of curiosity when she was younger, because all of her peers were.
"I was like, 'What's the big deal here?'" Williamson said. "I did have feelings and urges, they just didn't include a man." She said the word "lesbian" wasn't in her vocabulary at the time, so she didn't even consider she could be one.
Compulsory heterosexuality "creates an obligation to go with the status quo," Luna Matatas, a pleasure educator and creator of Peg the Patriarchy, told Cosmopolitan. "It might prevent someone from exploring their sexuality and gender or honoring what they know to be true about their sexual orientation."
While more Americans than ever before identify as LGBTQ, homophobia still plays a role, too. Ashley Matheson, a TikTok creator who now identifies as a queer woman, grew up in a Catholic community where she said she learned to hate gay people. It wasn't until she saw TikTok videos of women showing romantic affection toward other women that she realized she could have that herself.
Matheson said some users who come across her queer content, which she began to make after
"Being on straight TikTok has made it very hard to be a part of the gay community, because I do get my comments filled with men saying what they think," Matheson said. "They used to always comment and say I couldn't be gay because I was previously in a heterosexual relationship. That's super invalidating."
@smashedely i’m sure they will have lots to say in the comments
♬ I Love You So - The Walters
Coming out because of an app is hard — but the feeling of freedom is worth it
Three months after downloading TikTok, Williamson came out as a lesbian to her sister, and later her mother. She said she felt empowered to buy the clothes she actually enjoys wearing – hoodies, flannels, and hats – after seeing other women do the same on TikTok.
She also dated a woman for a few months during the pandemic.
"It was actually exciting. I discovered that I like being nurturing and caring and taking care of someone," Williamson said.
All of the women said their families and close friends were generally supportive when they came out. But doing so during a pandemic stirred up feelings of isolation and loneliness.
Fender had to come out to her family and share the news about breaking off her engagement over FaceTime. Her online community helped, but it couldn't replace a real hug, she said.
Williamson was able to attend one in-person event with other lesbians, which gave her a taste of community. But a recent cancer diagnosis has made it difficult to meet queer women in person, as her immunocompromised status in the pandemic means she can't attend social events.
For Fender, the most brutal part of her coming-out experience was hurting someone she loved — her ex-fiancé. Yet it's hard to have regrets, she said, because the freedom feels so good.
"If you would've told me two or three years ago that this would be my life, I would've laughed in your face and then probably cried myself to sleep," she said. "I wanted it so bad."