There’s nothing healthy about Musical.ly culture

Natasha Faruqui, Staff Writer

 Rolf Jacob Sartorius is a name that evokes either extreme hatred or fanatic adoration. His Instagram feed is a medley of selfies, smolders and peace signs.  Hordes of fans flock the comments section of his social media, worshipping the 14-year old starlet and defending him from “the haters.”  He has released a number of songs, such as “Sweatshirt,” “Hit or Miss” and “Last Text.”  

I hate him. Whatever motivated him to enter the public eye certainly wasn’t a love for music.

This tween star is among the talentless group of teenage boys who rose to fame through the trendy app Musical.ly, which allows users to post videos of themselves lip-syncing to popular music.

I understand the appeal of the app. People have always danced and sung in front of the mirror; Musical.ly just broadcasts that mirror to the world. Nevertheless, the platform has adopted a much more narcissistic purpose. Famous “Musers” run their fingers through identically voluminous hairstyles, kiss and wink at the camera and lift their shirts for their legions of eleven-year-old female fans.

There used to be a time where one had to devote creativity, ambition, and emotional stress to become famous. Musical.ly completely tosses aside the idea of hard work and reveals a somber truth: if you are a conventionally attractive person and can catch attention with over-the-top charisma, you’ll grow famous before long by following the latest trends.

So far, Musical.ly has created a massive oversaturation of internet personalities. Ever heard of Ariel Martin (Baby Ariel), Cameron Dallas, or Liza Koshy? Ever wondered why they were so famous?

The saddest part is that people actually care. Jacob Sartorius has amassed twenty thousand Twitter followers, seven million Instagram followers, over two million Youtube subscribers, and more than thirteen million fans on Musical.ly.  

In this video, internet personalities Justin Caylen, Nash Grier and Cameron Dallas shame women who play video games, are “obnoxious and loud,” or have any type of body hair.

We millennials have heard it before: people born between the early 1980’s and the 2000’s are dubbed the most self-absorbed and narcissistic generation to date.  While most millennials I know don’t fit that stereotype, watching Cameron Dallas make shirtless Musical.ly’s in the shower and Jacob Sartorius body-roll to “Buy You a Drank” by T-Pain unfortunately seems to confirm that point.  Those with voices on platforms like Musical.ly seem to reinforce the stigma and perpetuate our bad reputation, while also destroying any good credit we have.

In general, the one strength that is commonly recognized in millennials is that we are more empathetic, open-minded and accepting than past generations. Musical.ly stars further harm our image by invalidating that strength and promoting a toxically insensitive culture. Many of the most popular Musers make vapid commentary, objectify or oversexualize others and bully in the name of comedy.  To have undeserved fame is one thing, but to channel that fame into negativity is something far worse.

I am not trying to throw my generation under the bus. Like most of us, I love good memes, Snapchat, and Buzzfeed quizzes. I mourned the end of Vine and memorized the opening lines of the Bee Movie. I just hate it when Cameron Dallas puts down young girls’ self-esteem in Youtube videos.  

While it remains seemingly ridiculed by upperclassmen, Musical.ly has grown extremely popular among my fellow freshmen.  To all my friends who are Musers, I would like to encourage you to keep singing and dancing like no one’s watching. That’s what Musical.ly was supposed to be for.