Why Do People Record Themselves Crying Online?
If you’re on the verge of tears, do you A) grab a tissue or B) hop on TikTok and hit the record button?
If you’re part of Gen Z ― or just particularly emotionally vulnerable ― it’s more and more likely that the answer is B.
Those who post videos of themselves crying tend to do so on Instagram Stories or the aforementioned TikTok ― two platforms that lend themselves to intimate, one-on-one experiences with your followers, not unlike a FaceTime chat with a close friend.
Unsurprisingly, the TikTokification of tears isn’t without its critics. This week, the actor Selena Gomez was met with harsh criticism when she posted an Instagram Story where she broke down in tears while reacting to the recent escalation in migrant deportations following President Donald Trump’s return to office. (Gomez, a Mexican American from Texas, has long supported immigrants’ rights, having executive produced the documentary “Living Undocumented” in 2019.)
“All my people are getting attacked, the children. I don’t understand,” the 32-year-old said in the clip. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could do something but I can’t. I don’t know what to do. I’ll try everything, I promise.”
Responding to the backlash ― which also included remarks from Trump border czar Tom Homan ― the “Only Murders in the Building” star deleted her post and followed up with another Instagram Story, writing, “Apparently it’s not ok to show empathy for people.”
In a story The Atlantic published Wednesday titled “Beware the Weepy Influencer,” writer and psychologist Maytal Eyal got at what bothers some people about displays of emotion on social media.
“They’re meant to inspire empathy, to reassure viewers that influencers are just like them. But in fact, they’re exercises in what I’ve come to call ‘McVulnerability,’ a synthetic version of vulnerability akin to fast food: mass-produced, easily accessible, sometimes tasty, but lacking in sustenance. True vulnerability can foster emotional closeness. McVulnerability offers only an illusion of it.”
There’s nothing new about these kinds of performative tears. Since the dawn of YouTube, we’ve seen questionable waterworks, including an infamous case where a mom vlogger was caught on camera coaching her son to cry harder: “Come closer,” the influencer told the boy, while pulling him towards her. “Act like you’re crying.” “I am crying,” her son replied. “Mom, I’m actually seriously crying.”
Even apart from those cringey, obviously attention-seeking cases, crying videos will likely always strike some of us as weird or overwrought. The idea of someone taking the time to hit record as tears well up (or decide to post a video featuring spontaneous tears) can seem hard to swallow. For some, it’s the ultimate, ickiest example of oversharing in the interest of “likes.”
But a case could be made that these videos really do serve some purpose; with her video, Gomez may have clued in some of her 422 million followers to the threats facing immigrants across the country. Or if someone posted their tearful reaction to seeing the destruction of their homes in the LA wildfires earlier this month, their followers may have been moved to donate to a disaster relief fund.
And there could be an abstract, longer-term cultural gain to TikTok vulnerability: revealing that side of ourselves could make others feel seen, less isolated or more comfortable exhibiting those emotions themselves.
While most people exclusively post the highlight reels of their lives ― vacation photos or“personal news” braggy posts about career changes ― there’s arguably something refreshing about being willing to post a good old-fashioned ugly cry.
At least that’s how Sydney Stanford, a 26-year-old who’s cried on Instagram on occasion, sees things. In one such post, embedded below, she talked about how difficult it’s been to move on from a recent personal trauma.
“Showing the tears is just as important as showing the triumphs in our lives,” Stanford told HuffPost via email. “If it’s something that other people go through in silence, I feel compelled to be vulnerable enough to share it.”
“We need to be kinder to people however they express themselves on the internet, whether that be in tears or laughter,” she added. “I would much rather have someone show up with vulnerability than anger or yelling to get their emotions out.”
E.K., a 20-something artist who asked to use her initials to protect her privacy, has also shed some tears on TikTok. That was especially true last year, when she was dealing with an emotional one-two-punch: Within a span of a few months, she ended a toxic long-distance relationship and quit her job and moved to New York City.
Her most viewed story on TikTok is one she recorded during a particularly rough patch, when she was feeling the full weight of being mostly alone in a brand new place.
“It was a very emotionally charged moment and I genuinely opened it up and was like, ‘hi, I need your help, I don’t know what to do with this,’” she said.
“At the time, I didn’t want to be a burden to my friends. I have some great friends who I can turn to but there’s also times where you don’t want to bother them with something,” she said.
E.K. had a therapist in the past who she could use as a sounding board, but she thinks there’s something heartening about sharing when you’re in a vulnerable state and seeing people rally around you.
“I think that video has over 13,000 comments which is insane to me,” she told HuffPost. “If anything, I hope it’s comforting for people to watch. I hope that they feel encouraged to leave a toxic relationship or to believe they’re worth more than the job that they’re at.”
Simran Mann, a 23-year-old, shared a montage on TikTok of all the times she’s cried after a breakup and watches it now to see how far she’s come. She looks at social media as a way to externalize her feelings, something akin to journaling or speaking to a therapist. (YouTube and social media make it easier for non-writers to hop on and share their innermost thoughts, but people have been baring all emotionally in blogs for decades on platforms like LiveJournal and Xanga.)
“Seeing my own pain from an outside perspective is heartbreaking, and I often wish I could go back and comfort myself,” she said. “For the first time, I truly saw my own growth. It became a reminder that I can push through anything.”
Crying videos ― even crying montages ― make a certain amount of sense coming from Gen Z-ers, a generation well-versed in therapy-speak and and the art of personal branding. They’ve also lived through a pandemic and the ensuing “loneliness epidemic” and are more likely to see online friends as legitimate as IRL ones.
“Younger generations — especially Gen Z — tend to be more open about their emotions and mental health struggles,” said Stephanie Feldman, a trauma and anxiety therapist in Alberta and Ontario, Canada.
There’s been a cultural shift toward normalizing vulnerability, and social media ― whether we’re posting on social media or looking for past advice threads on Reddit ― has played a huge role in this, the therapist told HuffPost.
“Gen Z and cusp Millennials have grown up in a digital world where self-expression ― whether it’s joy, anger, or sadness ― is often shared online, and talking about mental health challenges online is not quite as stigmatized as it once was,” Feldman explained.
Still, there’s a teachable moment in Gomez’s recent viral video, especially for those who tend to share freely: If you get emotionally vulnerable online, you’re implicitly giving outsiders permission to judge you.
“It’s absolutely healthy to cry, but sharing those moments publicly can often be harmful,” said Rana Bull, a licensed counselor who works primarily with Gen Z-ers (and posts and promotes her business on TikTok).
“If there’s a negative response to your video, the backlash may cause further distress,” she said. “And even if there’s a positive response, it can actually enable someone to continue seeking external attention rather than turning inwards to heal what’s causing this behavior in the first place.”
One of the beautiful and creative aspects of social media is its openness—there are no hard rules about what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ to post.Rana Bull, a licensed counselor who works primarily with Gen Z-ers
It’s important to consider your mindset if you’re recording yourself in such vulnerable moments, Bull said. If you feel so overwhelmed with shame, guilt or distress that you believe showing your emotions publicly is the only way to convey your pain, it suggests a deeper struggle ― one that might not be a good fit for public consumption.
All this said, Gomez’s viral moment is a teachable moment for those who are quick to judge, too.
“I encourage anyone who feels a certain way about Selena Gomez’s post ― or any emotional post, for that matter ― to pause and reflect before responding,” Bull said. “Consider the thoughts and feelings that come up for you. Ask yourself: What is it about someone else sharing their emotions that makes me uncomfortable? Why do I feel the need to respond with judgment or negativity?”
It may seem unhealthy or unseemly to post your tears online, but cultural norms are constantly in flux; as we all learn how much of ourselves we’re comfortable sharing online, the least we can do is extend each other some grace.
“One of the beautiful and creative aspects of social media is its openness—there are no hard rules about what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ to post,” Bull said. “While there are certainly unhealthy behaviors across all social media platforms, our society grows and evolves by engaging with a diversity of perspectives and opinions.”
