4 Thursday, June 3, 2021 The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com OPINION T ikTok’s explosion in popularity in recent years marks a new era in Generation Z-dominated internet culture, and the trend doesn’t seem to be slowing down. TikTok had amassed over 689 million active users as of January 2021, and over 60% of them were people under 30 — including many Gen Z kids creating comedy, fashion, dance and beauty videos. TikTok is known for its pageantry and trendiness, with young women and girls posting elaborate beauty transformations set to viral music and using flattering filters. Young women like Loren Grey and Charli D’Amelio are hugely responsible for many of TikTok’s trends as well as its popularity. And for a generation of young people that grew up on iPods and iPads, social media applications like TikTok are nothing new. Many image and video-focused social media applications like Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat carry much of the same content. However, TikTok’s interface has inspired staggering fashion and beauty trends often led by young women on the platform. One common video trend starts with a girl lip-syncing to music in a shabby outfit, looking moderately unkempt. The next moment — ideally at the drop of the beat — the girl transforms into a fashion fantasy, with wild clothing, hair and a pleased look on her face as she admires herself while dancing. Despite its fun, the internet has never — and likely will never — be a safe place for young girls looking to express themselves. While scrolling, I often see TikToks of girls dressed in vibrant, show-stopping looks with a caption poking fun at potential conservative Karens who would disapprove. These bold young women echo feminist ideals of wearing whatever one wants, whether scantily-clad or conservatively dressed, no matter the opinions of society. I see their strong sense of identity and self-expression and feel happy that they’ve found a corner of the internet where they can confidently show off and unleash their creativity. At the same time, I feel an intuitive pull to warn them of their vulnerability. Young people who routinely post themselves on TikTok risk exposing themselves to being digitally consumed, and even approached, by adult predators. Children ages 12 to 15, who comprise a significant chunk of TikTok users, are especially at risk for internet sexual harassment. In recent years, TikTok has been accused of being a hub for pedophiles with little punishment for those who engage inappropriately with minors. Even more concerning, rates of femicide, sexual violence and harassment against women, both in-person and online, have been climbing since the start of the pandemic. This is part of an overall uptick in online harassment against women and girls. Participating in the fun of social media is a part of growing up in the digital age, and I wholeheartedly want to encourage the fun. And yet, the perspective of “I wear what I want, no matter the stares I get” is at odds with the notion that self- expression, creativity and sensuality are not safe to display online. M usic is considered to be a universal communicator of human emotions. This can be seen in the ever-present K-pop craze, as English-speaking fans rock out to hits in a completely different language. If 10 people with 10 different native tongues were listening to Kool & The Gang sing “Celebrate good times, come on!” together, it wouldn’t matter that some might not fully understand the lyrics — the jovial brass and funk guitar communicate in the same way that the words do. Depending on cultural background and life experience, individuals are bound to glean a variety of emotional experiences from the same piece of music, but there is always emotion to be found nonetheless. The language of music truly knows no bounds — that is, until a prospective music student finds out they can’t fit the requirements to be admitted into a music program. That barrier is one I’ve given much thought to recently. My senior year of high school was the first time I thought of music composition as an actual possibility for a major, and I became incredibly excited at the idea. Some research about the University of Michigan’s program in October revealed that up to seven original works, scored and recorded, were required for the application due in December, plus a recording of the student playing their preferred instrument of focus. And if all that works out, you get the opportunity to interview in the spring. I did not end up completing a portfolio in time. Today I sit in musical limbo, wanting to compose with my entire heart and then some, but unable to get in the door. It can be saddening to be barred from studying and developing something that feels so entwined with your existence. Unfortunately, this has been the majority of my music experience at the University. I have strong musical instincts and abilities in, apparently, all the wrong areas, like harmonizing, sight-reading and learning music by ear. I do play the violin, sing and read sheet music, but not to a high enough level that it will get me anywhere that I want to go here — including the music composition program. In the digital audio workstations like Logic Pro and Ableton that people use for music production, there’s a built-in tool for correcting any note or drum hit that doesn’t fall precisely on a beat. This is called quantization. Jacob Collier, a prolific musician and Grammy- winning artist, is an advocate for un-quantizing music. In a January 2020 livestream, he mentions his desire to “get the grid out of people’s psychologies,” describing the result of quantizing as “something which is … grid-based, which is not human.” He goes on to say that “grids are not the same as humans. Humans are some of the least grid-based creatures … in the world, in the universe.” Collier also briefly mentions how education accomplishes something eerily similar, keeping different subjects in neatly separate containers. It is not a new idea that the separation of subjects presents a skewed and frankly untrue view of how different knowledge bases operate and interact. Music is a culmination of science and math and art, and oftentimes philosophy. Yet it is still kept quantized, even at our university. I’d like to acknowledge the perspective I’m writing from, which is that of a student in LSA who doesn’t have a lot of technical skill on the violin and has taken only a year of classical singing lessons. I am very much someone on the outside looking in at what I haven’t gained access to. This whole column could be seen as fist-shaking at the musical doors that I haven’t worked as hard as others to enter. The audition process is completely understandable for performance majors, and I get why it’s the typical mode of admission for music programs everywhere. There are people in the world who lack rhythm, good pitch or both, and it would be nearly impossible to study certain aspects of music without these qualities, let alone prepare for years to have other people pay for your skills. Prioritizing safety over expression on TikTok The un-quantization of music courses at the ‘U’ Design by Jessica Chiu 420 Maynard St. Ann Arbor, MI 48109 tothedaily@michigandaily.com Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890. MARY ROLFES Editorial Page Editor Julian Barnard Zack Blumberg Brittany Bowman Elizabeth Cook Brandon Cowit Jess D’Agostino Andrew Gerace Jessie Mitchell Mary Rolfes Gabrijela Skoko Jack Tumoowsky Joel Weiner Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of The Daily’s Editorial Board. All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors. CALDER LEWIS Editor in Chief EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS DANIELLE CANAN | OPINION COLUMNIST ALEXIS HANCZ | OPINION COLUMNIST Alexis Hancz is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at ahancz@umich.edu. Danielle Canan is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at dcanan@umich.edu. Read more at michigandaily.com Read more at michigandaily.com