Skibidi.
Fanum Tax.
Sigma Rizz.
No, these words are not part of a dystopian culture. Anyone who has ever had a conversation with a child, usually under the age of 11, has probably heard a culmination of slang such as this. With the vocabulary levels of such a discussion reaching an all-time low, trying to follow along in a chat chock full of what seems to be gibberish is—needless to say—tiring.
But, however much one may be suffering trying to decipher such cryptic slang, it is evident who the truly most-distressed individuals are in that situation: those speaking it. And, unfortunately, most of them suffer from a disease that has now been called “brain rot.”
Synonymous with the term “chronically online,” “brain rot” is essentially used to describe useless, low-value content online, usually TikTok, that serves no purpose but to entrap the viewer into an endless cycle of doom scrolling. Usually full of fatuous slang or internet buzzwords, it earned its name because some claim that watching such content makes one less intelligent and gets viewers, such as the screen-plagued child that was previously mentioned, to sit on their devices for hours on end until the only thing they know is the mindless motion of swiping and days worth of online jargon to recite like a pledge. Usually full of fatuous slang or internet buzzwords, it earned its name because some claim that watching such content makes one less intelligent and gets viewers, such as the screen-plagued child that was previously mentioned, to sit on their devices for hours on end until the only thing they know is the mindless motion of swiping and days worth of online jargon to recite like a pledge.
Such content can be found all over the internet, blossoming on “screenager” havens like TikTok, Instagram Reels, and YouTube shorts. Usually, a clip or a meme will go viral that will have some sort of made-up slang in it, causing the word or phrase to catch on and make it’s way into the lives of those who have heard it. The derivative of these words can stem from varying places online all the way from a livestream to a game ad. Despite where they come from, however, incorporating the video’s brain rot into one’s everyday vocabulary is easily addicting.
While it is usually associated with TikTok, it is also pervasive on many other platforms, such as YouTube Shorts and Instagram Reels. But now becoming more evident, its damaging effects stretch beyond just the digital world. This cult-minded fad extends past just an annoying catchphrase or a bit of comedic substance and additionally shows strong links to American consumerism.
From the Stanley water bottle craze to the Sephora 10-year-old Drunk Elephant addiction, online forums like TikTok provide a place for insane socioeconomic hierarchies to flourish in the lives of impressionable, media-obsessed children. Shoving internet trends down the throats of easily influenced kids creates a generation of people who are tormented by the notion of climbing the social pyramid, putting those down who do not comply with the internet “standards” and simultaneously discouraging individuality, promoting a world of clones. While such trends are not traditional brain rot, such as one full of online colloquialism, they are certainly just as—if not even more—harmful. In the same way that the slang commonly found in brain rot can seep into the headspace of those exposed to it, so can the current trends and obsessions of social media.
With the effect of the internet brain rot being easy to see in the lives of many of today’s younger children, its consequences can also be seen in the teenage to adult age group; specifically, a type of brain rot called “Looksmaxxing.” While it started as a process that originated on TikTok, advertised by its content creators as a way to maximize one’s physical attractiveness, a better way to put it is a free way to develop trivial insecurities for absolutely no reason.
The videos in this category, usually made by conventionally attractive people, most commonly point out which facial features are more attractive and which ones are seen as unattractive, along with possible ways to fix those features that may seemingly belong in the latter.
These PSAs only seem to bring insecurity to “problems” one might not even know they had. An example of this is the Looksmaxxing community’s obsession with facial canthal tilt, which is the angle at which the eyes sit. According to prominent Looksmaxxers—which is what they have dubbed themselves—those with a positive canthal tilt are deemed more aesthetically pleasing and desirable, while those with negative canthal tilts look less favorable as they tend to drag their face down and exert a fatigued, melancholic demeanor.
This, however, is only one example of the seemingly unquenchable thirst that some have to look like a carbon copy of the most “perfect” influencers online. Beyond the eyes, the members of this community also express their hyper-attentive need to fix many other so-called “problems,” such as their nose, jawline, and/or facial shape as a whole. This meticulous obsession with facial features, a lot of them unchangeable, reaches primarily an audience of young teens and children, fueling useless insecurities that are unnecessary to be made aware of. This, once again, propels an agenda of ordinary, individuality-stripped people who let social media dictate the way they carry and view themselves.
Regardless of what form brain rot comes in, it is purely a way for the internet to run the lives of its users. The social phenomenon of brain rot does nothing but fuel unoriginality and hyper-internet-obsessed tendencies. And while it is not yet an actual illness or syndrome, I certainly would not be surprised if—seeing its consequences—it one day makes its way into a true medical book.
