Ctrl+Shift Feminism: On Cyberfemme Folklore & TikTok’s Rebrand of Late Capitalism

Words: Sihaam Naik

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I’ve never known a life without the internet. From the pixelated depths of internet lore to the fleeting trends that sweep past us faster than we laughed at them, I've traversed the vast expanse of online culture - occasionally pausing to reminisce about the golden days of Tumblr - yet amidst the cacophony of deep-fried memes, incel rhetoric, and political polarisation, there's a glimmer of hope. A patch of digital greenery where a flower blooms despite the chaos; a glimpse into what the future of the internet could look like.

In a world where technology serves as both a catalyst and a canvas for change, the intersection of feminism and technology emerges as a profound and transformative force. At the heart of this exploration lies Donna Haraway’s seminal text, the Cyborg Manifesto, which dared to paint a utopian vision of a genderless future. Cyberfeminists passionately embrace this vision — a future where technology transcends its role as a tool, becoming a potent force for societal transformation. 

However, as Maria Fernandez astutely pointed out in her paper Cyberfeminism, Racism, Embodiment, the majority of cyberfeminists in the 1990s were white. This raises a critical question: What does the future of cyberfeminism look like? Spoiler alert: the future is intersectional.

This column will serve as a platform for discourse and a beacon of empowerment for women and marginalised individuals in the digital arena. Look for critiques on AI, art, digital media, sci-fi, cyborgs, mythic, etc. From showcasing the work of female web designers and digital artists to spotlighting extraordinary Women of the Internet, this column aims to inspire, educate, and ignite change. 

This month, we’re tackling the cross-section of shopping and entertainment in cyberspace - the cramped echo chamber that is the TikTok shop. On their shop specific Instagram page, TikTok call themselves “the most entertaining place to shop”. Interestingly, Instagram launched its own ‘full-screen storefront’ in 2020 with ‘Shops’. They even went as far as to add it to the home page UI, replacing the Likes tab. It's every ad developer’s fantasy: catching out users who can't resist scrolling endlessly, bombarding them with a stream of targeted ads while stalking high-school exes and postmodern memes and making massive sales. But the Instagram store function didn’t take off, with users never using the shopping tab except when they clicked it on accident.
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But somehow, TikTok Shop has cracked the capitalism code. Although the shop button lives on the homepage, just like Instagram used to, users can make their purchases without even tapping on it. Just scroll your For You page, look at some thinly concealed ads and watch as the item in the video pops up next to your thumb. Like this lip gloss I’m using while I tell you about my cheating, lying husband? It’s floating right above my username. Do you want this blush by the esteemed makeup brand Made By Mitchell? It’s marked down considerably. And all the beautiful people on your phone screen are using it in the shade Peony.

"TikTok Shop capitalises on the relatability of their creators to sell products and their ability to perform as though persuading customers is a low priority.”

It’s no surprise that TikTok shop influences the majority of content on the app — with #tiktokshop having 33.3 million posts under it. It seems that every other post is someone showing off a product; advertising it nonchalantly. What's especially worrisome is the way these ads manipulate our emotions by weaving real-life stories into their narratives. My least liked kind is the problem-and-solution adverts. I watched someone go over their hair loss journey earnestly, only to be distracted by the hair oil they were using popping up in my sidebar, begging to be bought. 

TikTok's latest trend revolves around "mouth-breathing," a phenomenon where creators are promoting the use of "mouth-tape" purportedly to enhance appearance. This practice, showcased prominently on TikTok Shop, suggests that using such tape can mitigate perceived unattractiveness. I watch uneasily as the phrase “The uglier you go to bed at night, the prettier you wake up” circulates the simulacrum. Of course, these 3 minute long spiels are punctuated with handy links to TikTok mouth tapes that are going for 80p a pop.

It makes you wonder about the extent to which TikTok users are knowingly involved in these promotional activities. There are accounts selling food - candy, cakes, burgers - all accompanied by videos of people eating that are conveniently advertised to you during 2 am munchies. The intertwining of genuine experiences with commercial motives blurs the boundaries between authenticity and advertising on the platform. By eliminating influencers and traditional digital media as middlemen, brands are placing advertising in the hands of the consumer. 

Nearly 90% of shoppers no longer trust influencers, instead opting for UGCs (user generated content) to purchase products and services. As influencers talk about their favourite products while rattling off a pre-approved script, it’s no surprise that consumers are now looking for honest reviews and recommendations from tastemakers under 20K followers. But even these posts - from those seemingly naive to the benefits of flogging tat on TikTok Shop - are secretly incentivised through commissions for each product sold, providing a direct monetary benefit to content creators’ promotional efforts. TikTok Shop capitalises on the relatability of their creators to sell products and their ability to perform as though persuading customers is a low priority

It’s underlying a dystopian future where entertainment and shopping are synonymous. Ads aren’t going to be annoying pop-ups for penis enlargement pills or MILFs in your area - they’re now entwined in our downtime, online culture and intimate conversations. As consumers awaken to the realities of the cyclical schemes of TikTok Shop, a sobering realisation dawns: our digital experiences are increasingly commodified, with every interaction serving as fodder for profit-driven algorithms. The allure of relatable creators seamlessly integrating products into their content masks the underlying commercial agenda, blurring the lines between genuine expression and promotional strategy.