By Wyatte Grantham-Philips, Business Writer
NEW YORK (AP) --It’s not just you. The word “demure” is being used to describe just about everything online these days.
It all started earlier this month, when TikTok creator Jools Lebron posted a video that would soon take social media by storm. The hair and makeup she’s wearing to work? Very demure. And paired with a vanilla perfume fragrance? How mindful.
In just weeks, Lebron’s words have become the latest vocabulary defining the internet this summer. In addition to her own viral content that continues to describe various day-to-day, arguably reserved activities with adjectives like “demure,” “mindful” and “cutesy,” several big names have also hopped on the trend. Celebrities like Jennifer Lopez and Penn Badgley have shared their own playful takes, and even the White House used the words to boast the Biden-Harris administration’s recent student debt relief efforts.
The skyrocketing fame of Lebron’s “very mindful, very demure” influence also holds significance for the TikToker herself. Lebron, who identifies as a transgender woman, said in a post last week that she’s now able to finance the rest of her transition.
“One day, I was playing cashier and making videos on my break. And now, I’m flying across country to host events,” Lebron said in the video, noting that her experience on the platform has changed her life.
She’s not alone. Over recent years, a handful of online creators have found meaningful income after gaining social media fame โ but it’s still incredibly rare, and no easy feat for most to maintain.
Here’s what some experts say.
How can TikTok fame lead to meaningful sources of income?
There is no one recipe.
Finding resources to work as a creator full-time “is not as rare as it would have been years ago,” notes Erin Kristyniak, VP of global partnerships at marketing collaboration company Partnerize. But you still have to make content that meets the moment โ and there’s a lot to juggle if you want to monetize.
On TikTok, most users who are making money pursue a combination of hustles. Brooke Erin Duffy, an associate professor of communication at Cornell University, explains that those granted admission into TikTok’s Creator Marketplace โ the platform’s space for brand and creator collaborations โ can “earn a kickback from views from TikTok expressly,” although that doesn’t typically pay very well.
Other avenues for monetization include more direct brand sponsorships, creating merchandise to sell, fundraising during livestreams and collecting “tips” or “gifts” through features available to users who reach a certain following threshold. A lot of it also boils down to work outside of the platform.
And creators are increasingly working to build their social media presence across multiple platforms โ particularly amid a potential TikTok ban in the U.S., which is currently in a legal battle. Duffy notes adding that many are working on developing this wider online presence so they can “still have a financial lifeline” in case any revenue stream goes away.
Is it difficult to sustain?
Gaining traction in the macrocosm that is the internet is difficult as is โ and while some have both tapped into trends that resonate and found sources of compensation that allow them to quit their nine-to-five, it still takes a lot of work to keep it going.
“These viral bursts of fame don’t necessarily translate into a stable, long-term career,” Duffy said. “On the surface, it’s kind of widely hyped as a dream job … But I see this as a very superficial understanding of how the career works.”
Duffy, who has been studying social media content creation for a decade, says that she’s heard from creators who have months where they’re reaping tremendous sums of money from various sources of income โ but then also months with nothing. “It’s akin to a gig economy job, because of the lack of stability,” she explained.
“The majority of creators aren’t full-time,” Eric Dahan, the CEO and founder of influencer marketing agency Mighty Joy, added.
Burnout is also very common. It can take a lot of emotional labor to pull content from your life, Duffy said, and the pressure of maintaining brand relationships or the potential of losing viewers if you take a break can be a lot. Ongoing risks of potential exposure to hate or online harassment also persist.
Is the landscape changing?
Like all things online, the landscape for creators is constantly evolving.
Demand is also growing. More and more platforms are not only aiming to court users but specifically bring aspiring creators on their sites. And that coincides with an increased focus on marketing goods and brands in these spaces.
Companies are doubling down “to meet consumers where they are,” Raji Srinivasan, a marketing professor at The University of Texas at Austin’s McCombs School of Business. YouTube and other social media platforms, such as Instagram, have also built out offerings to attract this kind of content in recent years, but โ for now โ it’s “TikTok’s day in the sun,” she added, pointing to the platform’s persisting dominance in the market.
And for aspiring creators hoping to strike it big, Dahan’s advice is just to start somewhere. As Lebron’s success shows, he added, “You don’t know what’s going to happen.”
AP Technology Writer Barbara Ortutay contributed to this story from Oakland, California.
Review: Director-Writer Megan Park’s “My Old Ass”
They say tripping on psychedelic mushrooms triggers hallucinations, anxiety, paranoia and nervousness. In the case of Elliott, an 18-year-old restless Canadian, they prompt a visitor.
"Dude, I'm you," says the guest, as she nonchalantly burns a 'smores on a campfire next to a very high and stunned Elliott. "Well, I'm a 39-year-old you. What's up?"
What's up, indeed: Director-writer Megan Park has crafted a wistful coming-of-age tale using this comedic device for "My Old Ass" and the results are uneven even though she nails the landing.
After the older Elliott proves who she is โ they share a particular scar, childhood memories and a smaller left boob โ the time-travel advice begins: Be nice to your brothers and mom, and stay away from a guy named Chad.
"Can we hug?" asks the older Elliott. They do. "This is so weird," says the younger Elliott, who then makes things even weirder when she asks for a kiss โ to know what it's like kissing yourself. The older Elliott soon puts her number into the younger's phone under the name "My Old Ass." Then they keep in touch, long after the effects of the 'shrooms have gone.
Part of the movie's problem that can't be ignored is that the two Elliotts look nothing alike. Maisy Stella plays the coltish young version and a wry Aubrey Plaza the older. Both turn in fine performances but the visuals are slowly grating.
The arrival of the older Elliott coincides with her younger self counting down the days until she can flee from her small town of 300 in the Muskoka Lakes region to college in Toronto, where "my life is about to start." She's sick of life on a cranberry farm.
Park's scenes and dialogue are unrushed and honest as Elliott takes her older self's advice and tries to repair... Read More