What is “Prison TikTok”
and Why Isn’t Anyone Talking About It?
When the coronavirus pandemic hit the U.S. in March 2020, families, those quarantined alone, frontline workers, and everyone in between sought new ways to connect with one another and the outside world. With video conferencing becoming a part of daily life, so were the wholesome pranks and synchronized dances we commonly associate with TikTok. The video-based social media app exploded in popularity in 2020, becoming a cultural touchstone for Gen Z and young Millennials. Even if you don’t know how to do the “Savage” dance, you have probably seen it.
TikTok was new to me and I will be honest, I didn’t see the appeal at first. However, like many forlorn twenty-somethings trying to make sense of the fever dream that is 2020, I was quickly reeled in. This shit is funny.
I am not yet thirty but I am considered ancient on that app. (At this point I just let it humble me.)
Scrolling through familiar routines, laughing at inside jokes, enjoying nature appreciation posts, the occasional chaotic vine reference, and sharing calls for social justice became a regular part of my day. It wasn’t long until I started to see posts that seemed a bit surreal.
“Did I just see what I think I saw?”
“Are they in Prison?”
Social Media in Prison?
It was either the recognition of orange jumpsuits or the hard metal bunk beds jutting into cramped spaces that first made me slow down, scroll back. Initially I had the same feeling you would get as a child when you would find yourself somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.
“Is this real, right now? I hope we don’t get caught.”
It is a curious kind of prying, to be party to the use of contraband which enables us to see that which we are not meant to be privy to.
That this is happening seems both unbelievable and understandable. Burner phones, phones with no contract intended for brief use and disposal, are widely accessible. It shouldn’t have surprised me or anyone else that they are cropping up behind bars and in the blue light of my own screen at 3 a.m. But it did.
Unexpected Connection
All it takes is a quick search for the “prisontiktok” hashtag and you will find yourself scrolling through everything from synchronized dances to pleas for help from the online community. Notably, most of what I have seen since March has been taken down. There are still 278.1 million views under the hashtag on that app alone.
Among these views are also stories of resilience from family members of those in the legal system as well as the previously incarcerated, rendering the results a mixture of prison-related content. 278.1 million hashtag-views is not particularly notable for a social media platform like TikTok, with more than 500 million users worldwide, this is certainly a smaller representation of content than all that has appeared under the tag over time.
When a video is removed by the user or an administrator, the views also disappear. This makes it incredibly difficult to gauge the true presence of this content over time.
Social media, and TikTok in particular, have become an invaluable tool for shining light on social justice issues and initiating calls to action. Not only are there hashtags like “#Free2k”, referencing one of the incarcerated TikTokers whose videos remain on the app, there have also been videos documenting poor living conditions, rotten food, drug use, and a severe lack or absence of COVID precautions.
Of the videos uploaded that legitimately have prison-related content, it appears the trend is that dancing videos stay while videos addressing serious human rights violations are removed.
A Broken System
It is not radical to claim that a system which allows private institutions to profit off of the incarceration of human beings is inherently flawed. Iron fists and racist policies have resulted in prison populations which are not only busting at the seams, but disproportionately target Black and Brown bodies.
It’s also not a radical claim to state that the prison industrial complex is an extension of slavery. The 13th amendment of the U.S. Constitution, which abolished slavery, includes a provision protecting the use of involuntary servitude as punishment for a crime.
The increased privatization of the prison industrial complex and implementation of harsh policing tactics in the nineties and beyond has proven to be catastrophic for minority communities.
Disproportionate allocation of police, spurred by both subtle and overt racism, has sown distrust between law enforcement and the communities they serve.
While so much is broken, from inconsistent and insufficient police training to a lack of community resources, we have yet to address the real issues.
Our legacy of Jim Crow precedes us.
The not so sneaky continued use of manipulative and racist policies reminiscent of those used in the Southern Strategy should continue to be scrutinized.
Human Beings
We are presented with a unique opportunity in this social anomaly. I find myself returning to this question, will we pay attention?
Americans aren’t unfamiliar with being told “do not believe your lying eyes.” Yet, with the remnants of the last century still sour in our mouths and the grave procession of Black and Brown faces with their assigned hashtags for justice ever present on our timelines, will this be another missed opportunity to work on these systemic problems?
We see this every day.
How many more prisoners will have to beg for masks to protect them from COVID-19 or for sufficient hygiene products? How many people will be denied life saving medical care? How many diets will go unaccommodated? How many people will die behind bars? How many smiling faces will we see before we make a change?
