Dear President Trump: Please Ban TikTok to Protect Adult App Addicts Like Myself
Dear President Trump,
I urge you to keep TikTok banned — for the well-being of social-media enthusiasts like myself.
My colleague Jessica introduced me to TikTok, where she, at 45, obtains her news, information, and product recommendations. She dedicates about six hours each day to the app.
“I simply can’t live without it,” she shared earnestly.
So I gave it a shot — and within a day, I was hooked. It became my new obsession, akin to an addictive substance.
And I wasn’t the only one. You downplayed concerns regarding Chinese surveillance by branding it an app for “young kids watching crazy videos.” That perspective is misleading.
In the past two years, the demographic of TikTok users aged 35 and older has surged, now accounting for nearly half of its 1 billion users.
According to Exploding Topics, Gen Z users aged 18 to 24 constituted just 25% of TikTok’s user base in 2024.
The largest demographic was users aged 25 to 34, making up 30%. Moreover, individuals aged 35 to 45 represented 19%, increasing from 16% in 2022, while users aged 45 to 55 accounted for 13%, up from 8%.
Even the older age groups are engaging: Individuals over 55 comprised 14% of TikTok users, a significant increase from 9% two years prior.
WE ARE ALL PARTICIPATING. And for good reason.
The algorithm, driven by AI, is incredibly addictive—it learns everything about us within hours and serves up tailored content that exploits our emotions, keeping us glued to the screen, similar to watching a never-ending train wreck.
Additionally, the exhilaration of seeing your video go viral (even if only momentarily convincing yourself that you could become a TikTok sensation earning vast sums through casual video chats) is hard to resist.
Nothings compares to receiving a notification that my post about Diddy’s “friends fleeing faster than rats on a sinking ship” attracted almost 500,000 views or that my Super Bowl content reached hundreds of thousands.
It felt gratifying. I craved validation—though from strangers, it hardly mattered. Just like Sally Field’s emotional Academy speech, “You like me! Right now, you like me!”
But the time drain began to negatively impact me.
Producing videos took me at least one to two hours, while engaging with my “followers” required even more time.
Chasing the fleeting high of likes became an obsession—constantly checking the performance of new videos compared to older ones.
My attention span dwindled significantly. Reading actual books? Forget about it—if a minute-long video didn’t get to the point in 10 seconds, I was out. NEXT!
In some instances, I inadvertently spent four hours scrolling through TikTok videos before sleep. It was exhausting.
Then it took a bizarre turn.
My fondness for watching chubby, cross-eyed cats playing on Roombas somehow led the algorithm to present me with videos featuring grown men dressed in crotchless cat suits, meowing at the camera.
Ridiculous human antics led to an avalanche of viral trends, with one hit replicated over 9,000 times by other users.
“Content creators” morphed into desperate marketers—almost reading my thoughts.
Knowing I was in the perimenopausal stage, I was bombarded with weight-loss tips and anti-aging remedies.
A slew of videos appeared, “offering help”—from a bizarre woman selling a vibrating “exercise” device that looked like a lawsuit waiting to happen, to countless young women persuading me to try their AMAZING wrinkle-fighting creams (what do they know about wrinkles, anyway?), and, naturally, various supplements. One was marketed to enhance clarity but ironically acted as a home colonic.
But it wasn’t just the relentless marketing. Conspiracy theories with unsettling, provocative themes flooded my feed, including antisemitic content, even before I casually posted a benign message advocating for the safe return of hostages (because who wouldn’t want that?).
Between these marketing gimmicks for clothing, face creams, and travel scams were emotionally charged videos urging viewers to stop Israel’s “unjust bombings” of Gaza’s innocents, who were justified in whatever context surrounding the events of October 7, 2023 (many still believe the horrific violence was merely a fun, AI-creation).
Finding anyone on TikTok appalled by the October 7 livestream of a modern-day pogrom? That’s going to be a challenge!
It feels like Jerry Springer’s strange cousin from an alternate reality has seized the internet, trying to sell you everything, including an authentic Hamas scarf-and-hoodie combo, along with macrobiotic, vegan, vitamin-C-infused sunscreen promising protection not just from the sun, but from “Jewish eyes!”
And, of course, pro-China narratives appeared incessantly, disregarding the chaos surrounding sending an “influencer journalist” (what?) to a Shein factory to promote it while genuine journalists expose the company’s labor abuses as akin to slavery. While China might not care about Israel or Gaza, it’s eager to foster division within the United States.
A study from Rutgers University in 2024 titled “The CCP’s Digital Charm Offensive” discovered that TikTok’s extraordinarily effective algorithm is biased in favor of the Chinese Communist Party.
I would prefer using an American-controlled app that reports to the US government—rather than one beholden to a government that conducts surveillance on American soil and aspires to global dominance by any means necessary.
When the app crumbled for a brief period on January 18 as the ban loomed near, TikTok users lamented their lost livelihoods. I thought, “Good. Time to find a real job. Stop promoting China.”
Mr. President, remember that your endorsement of my opinions holds weight. Your remark on my book “IT: 9 Secrets of the Rich and Famous That Will Take You to the Top” stated, “Paula Froelich knows what she is talking about.”
So, I request: Maintain the ban. Americans deserve better than this nonsense.
Sincerely,
Paula Froelich, senior story editor at NewsNation
