Somewhere between “we may collect biometric identifiers” and “we can share data with… well… vibes,” I realized TikTok no longer wanted my attention — it wanted squatters’ rights in my nervous system.
Somewhere between “we may collect biometric identifiers” and “we can share data with… well… vibes,” I realized TikTok no longer wanted my attention — it wanted squatters’ rights in my nervous system.
Somewhere between “we may collect biometric identifiers” and “we can share data with… well… vibes,” I realized TikTok no longer wanted my attention — it wanted squatters’ rights in my nervous system.
Somewhere between “we may collect biometric identifiers” and “we can share data with… well… vibes,” I realized TikTok no longer wanted my attention — it wanted squatters’ rights in my nervous system.
I don’t mind being tracked. I live in America. I assume my toaster reports me. But this was different. This was TikTok asking for permission to crawl inside my phone, wear my personality like a skinsuit, and sublet it.
I don’t mind being tracked. I live in America. I assume my toaster reports me. But this was different. This was TikTok asking for permission to crawl inside my phone, wear my personality like a skinsuit, and sublet it.
The app already knows what I watch, when I watch it, and what I almost watched before deciding I didn’t want the government knowing I watched it. That’s plenty. We don’t need retinal scans and emotional telemetry too.
The app already knows what I watch, when I watch it, and what I almost watched before deciding I didn’t want the government knowing I watched it. That’s plenty. We don’t need retinal scans and emotional telemetry too.
So I deleted it. Quietly. No announcement. No exit video. Just a long press, a little ✕, and the strange calm that comes from evicting a digital raccoon from your pocket.
So I deleted it. Quietly. No announcement. No exit video. Just a long press, a little ✕, and the strange calm that comes from evicting a digital raccoon from your pocket.
If I’m going to be surveilled, manipulated, and psychologically nudged into buying nonsense, I prefer it done with some old-fashioned shame and at least the courtesy of pretending it’s accidental.
If I’m going to be surveilled, manipulated, and psychologically nudged into buying nonsense, I prefer it done with some old-fashioned shame and at least the courtesy of pretending it’s accidental.