By Serenity Clark
By the time this is printed, chatter around TikTok’s U.S. ban will have subsided. As we know, TikTok went dark in America for fourteen hours, starting before midnight on Jan. 18.
American users spent days anticipating TikTok’s supposed end by revisiting old trends, audio, and dances. The For You page looked like the lobby of the sinking Titanic, her band playing with all the life they had left as passengers scrambled around them.
Many creators spent those last precious hours looking back on their time with TikTok revisiting the very video(s) that got them famous in the first place.
Then there were users who had never posted to TikTok despite having it downloaded for years: they were now uploading to the platform alongside fellow creators, videos that let the world know exactly how they felt about the ban – and I noticed a theme amongst them.
Instead of accepting the ban and heading back to Instagram or Twitter (X) as anticipated by those that proposed and approved the ban, users seemed to protest, listing off all the non-scrolling activities they planned on getting up to in Tiktok’s absence –an act of defiance.
Creator Rhody Jean (@therhodyjean) said it best: “My library card is already renewed … I’m bouncin’ out this b—- and reading a book in a public park with my wired headphones connected to the MP3 player.”
I’m both fascinated and encouraged by this reaction; I expected outrage, sure, but not spite. I did not expect the general response to be something like, “I’d rather reestablish myself with the flow of nature than scroll through Instagram Reels or open Facebook,” and I think that’s beautiful.
Even though TikTok has been restored and wasn’t gone long, I was inspired by my peers’ momentary rejection of social media entirely, of their drive to disconnect from the digital world and return to physical media if that’s really what it came down to–all on the basis of defiance in the face of their government banning their most used social media app.
Non-content-creator Jae (@iand_love_andyou) put my thoughts into words: “I would rather have the entire continent of Asia sitting in my living room twenty four seven than ever have the U.S. Government tell me what I can read, watch, listen to, or talk about.”
Knowledge and access to it is both a right and a privilege—the time to take advantage is now. Because of this, I created a reading list that is as eclectic as it is artfully chosen, meant to inspire you to hop on the bandwagon.
“Fahrenheit 451”
by Ray Bradbury
A dystopian novel originally published in 1953; Bradbury explores a future in which literature is criminal, censorship is at an all time high, and the government responds by burning books and libraries enmasse, and imprisoning those that try to stop them. This way, those in power are completely in control of all information and knowledge available–and facts can become whatever those in power want them to be.
“The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating”
by Elizabeth Tova Bailey
With an illness keeping her bedbound, Bailey shares the experience of being the observer and caretaker of a woodland snail living on her nightstand.
“Factory Girls“
by Michelle Gallen
A witty and insightful story of a girl’s summer job at a shirt factory in 1994 Northern Ireland. The cast of characters are diverse and have interesting conversations about class, religion and governance–how hard it is to be hopeful in divided times.
“Human Acts”
by Han Kang
Broken into five parts, Human Acts follows five different characters grappling with the death of a young boy after his violent demise amid the Gwangju Uprising in South Korea. Kang pulls no punches, telling the brutal truth regardless of how uncomfortable it may be.
“The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World”
by Robin Wall Kimmerer
From the same author that wrote “Braiding Sweetgrass,” The Serviceberry asks bold questions in subtle ways, challenging the modern economic system’s usage of scarcity and the hoarding of resources when ancient and/or native knowledge tells us that the best way to survive is with community and reciprocity.
Regardless of what literature you pick up this year, let it be done with curiosity and an open mind. Explore things printed outside of your country, your language, your comfort zone. Choose books based on covers, a quote you saw on the internet, or what your estranged aunt recommended.
Literacy, knowledge, physical media, stories–these are things that cannot be bought, and are completely invaluable. That’s all we’d have left if the Internet were to vanish tomorrow, anyway; it’s time to start treating books like the finite resource they are.