There was an era when memes and online humor catered to a specific audience, mostly enjoyed by those who were thoroughly engaged in digital culture. If you identified as one of those Extremely Online individuals, you likely took pleasure in quoting obscure Vine snippets that only a handful of your real-life companions recognized. Your nights may have been spent interacting with mutuals on Twitter or browsing through specialized fandom profiles. At that time, grasping internet culture appeared to be an exclusive talent—something the average person could not claim. However, by 2025, that separation has nearly vanished.
What used to be an inside joke among internet-savvy individuals is now almost impossible to restrict to a small group. Social media guarantees that fads proliferate at an astonishing rate, making it hard for anything to stay underground. Consider the concept of *BRAT summer*—a trend that was trendy for a brief period before it seeped into mainstream vernacular, even featuring in Kamala Harris’ presidential campaign. Likewise, had Jools Lebron shared her *”very demure”* clip on Vine years ago rather than TikTok last year, it might have remained an inside joke among a select group of online friends. Instead, it quickly fueled numerous autumn campaigns for various fashion brands. The notion that someone could be *more online* than the average individual equipped with a smartphone and an Instagram profile is now practically outdated.
Numerous individuals who once shaped their identities around being Extremely Online found refuge on Twitter. Yet, since Elon Musk’s acquisition and the rebranding as the ominously termed *X*, long-time users have faced challenges in finding a new venue for sharing memes and introspective thoughts. Even those who switched to TikTok now encounter uncertainties, with the impending U.S. ban casting a shadow on the app’s future. Consequently, many creators are on the lookout for alternative platforms to keep their content alive.
This doesn’t imply that people are reducing their time online—on the contrary. A 2023 report from the consumer research platform GWI reveals that Gen Z spends an average of 4.5 hours daily on social media. However, tracking down online spaces that seem private or catered to specific communities is considerably more challenging than it used to be. Even if your social media feeds appear customized, the truth is you’re likely engaging with the same content as millions of others.
What’s behind this change? Algorithms. Social media platforms have altered their content-serving strategies, prioritizing recommendations over posts from people you genuinely follow. Rather than curating feeds based on your selected connections, apps like TikTok, Instagram, and X now promote content they *believe* you’ll engage with. Dr. Carolina Are, a social media researcher at Northumbria University’s Centre for Digital Citizens, clarifies that these algorithms base their recommendations on the content you’ve previously liked and interacted with.
There are, of course, benefits to this. Algorithms can expose users to content they might genuinely appreciate, which they would not have discovered on their own. This also elucidates why meme culture has become so widespread—if a small group finds a meme amusing, the algorithm guarantees that it reaches a significantly larger audience almost immediately. “This has evolved into a faster, more efficient, and more economical—if not always precise—means of governing content globally,” Are states.
However, this also complicates the preservation of small, intimate online communities. Content frequently spreads beyond its intended audience, sometimes arriving at individuals who don’t grasp or value it. Furthermore, because platforms emphasize new content over posts from accounts you follow, maintaining connections within digital communities has become progressively tougher.
**”It feels like the algorithm wants you to see stuff you don’t like.”**
Izzy, a 27-year-old from London, has been active on social media since 2009 and was deeply engaged with Twitter throughout the 2010s. “I used to tweet hundreds of times daily,” she shares. “I’ve always viewed myself as very online. I enjoyed being the one who recognized every internet reference and meme.” Yet recently, she chose to stop using X, primarily due to the platform’s algorithm. “It feels like the algorithm wants you to see stuff you don’t like so that you engage with it, and it also shows your posts to people who won’t appreciate them,” she elaborates. This change turned her social media experience overwhelmingly negative.
This starkly contrasts with how Extremely Online users interacted with Twitter in the early to mid-2010s. During that period, people fostered authentic friendships with mutual followers, cultivating safe spaces within the internet. Nowadays, scrolling through social media often feels less like engaging with real individuals and more akin to consuming content from brands and influencers. While influencers are technically real people (unless they’re AI-generated), their highly curated content can cause them to seem more like media entities than genuine individuals.
Dr. Are observes that platforms like TikTok promote engagement as *the public* rather than nurturing meaningful interactions. “Algorithms prioritize popularity over network-building,”