Digital Refugees: How TikTok's Ban Created an Unexpected Bridge Between Nations
Like many Americans, I was sad that TikTok disappeared from my phone on January 18, 2025.* Not only was I in the middle of a sourdough tutorial thinking I had until midnight to finish, but what will I watch as I fall asleep now? How will I find the perfect lip combo, for which I've searched and invested for years now? Chippy boys? Where is Nate the Hoof Guy? While I am not a TikTok creator nor will my daily life see any real changes besides being a bit more productive, I've followed transformative stories of individuals and small businesses that thrived on the app. Individuals who were authentic, sharing pieces of their own lives, endearing themselves to others, and creating a community where people felt supported and seen and understood. Experts who offered their guidance, news channels sharing breaking news in small pieces, and funny videos that made scrolling both informative and entertaining.
The platform's ban in the United States has sparked something unexpected: a digital migration to Xiaohongshu (小红书), a Chinese social media platform whose name, "Little Red Book," carries its own historical weight, echoing Mao Zedong's revolutionary text that once served as China's primary ideological instrument. This digital echo of the past raises questions about how social media platforms shape discourse today, even as the migration itself follows familiar patterns. When Facebook and Twitter became inaccessible in China in 2009, Chinese netizens adapted by developing and embracing domestic platforms like Weibo and WeChat. Now, as American creators and viewers adapt to their new digital reality, the term "TikTok Refugees" has emerged, used both humorously and poignantly, inviting reflection on broader questions of digital citizenship and platform governance.
While said in a lighthearted manner, the concept of social media users as refugees offers interesting insights into digital sovereignty and transnational communication. For perhaps the first time, many Americans are grappling with the loss of something they assumed was guaranteed: access to a platform they valued. The metaphorical migration to Xiaohongshu mirrors, in a very small way, the displacement experienced by those whose rights or safety are jeopardized by larger geopolitical forces. While the stakes for social media users are far from life-threatening, this phenomenon offers an opportunity to cultivate empathy for individuals worldwide who face far graver forms of displacement.
This moment also invites critical reflection on digital rights and platform access. What if the stakes were much higher? What would we do if we lost something far more essential? Our right to an education, bodily autonomy, freedom of movement, or even the right to vote? As Americans, we are often insulated (or insulate ourselves) from the daily realities of displacement and restricted freedoms, yet this minor inconvenience allows us to glimpse the fragility of the rights we often take for granted.
Yet within this disruption lies an unexpected silver lining. While the metaphor of digital displacement prompts reflection on privilege and rights, the actual migration to Xiaohongshu has fostered something remarkable: a flourishing intercultural exchange. Xiaohongshu has been the number 1 app on iOS and Google Play stores leading up to the TikTok ban, with engagement metrics showing sustained cross-cultural interactions. Personally, what I am witnessing on the platform is an amazing, respectful, and productive dialogue between American and Chinese users. One American creator I followed on TikTok recently introduced her chickens by name in Putonghua. One Chinese creator proudly shared his beautiful garden, in English, to all the new Xiaohongshu users. Chinese and American users alike are asking questions about their respective lifestyles, reflecting an authentic curiosity about daily lives across the world.
These exchanges highlight the power of grassroots connection in an era where national governments often frame relations between the United States and China as adversarial. On Xiaohongshu, individuals are bypassing political rhetoric to forge direct and meaningful connections. That said, it is important to acknowledge the platform's limitations: content moderation policies can shape discourse, and the user base skews toward urban, middle-class demographics in both countries. Despite these constraints, users are learning about each other's daily lives, cultures, and systems in ways that traditional media or official diplomacy rarely allow.
For many Americans, this dialogue challenges outdated perceptions of China. As someone who studied abroad in Beijing, I have long admired the vibrancy of Chinese society, and I am heartened to see others discovering it for themselves. For decades, American education has framed China through a Cold War lens, emphasizing political differences while neglecting the realities of modern Chinese life. Platforms like Xiaohongshu offer a window into contemporary China, showcasing its rapid modernization, technological advancements, and the everyday lives of its people.
A healthcare comparison offers a striking example of how these digital exchanges might influence public policy perceptions. Americans on Xiaohongshu are surprised to learn that healthcare in China is relatively affordable and accessible. A Chinese user described going to the hospital for minor ailments without hesitation, contrasted with the American tendency to avoid hospitals due to prohibitive costs. These revelations not only challenge stereotypes but also provoke critical discussions about systemic differences and potential improvements. Such direct cultural exchanges could potentially shape future policy discussions in both countries.
Infrastructure provides another compelling example of this cross-cultural learning. In 2001, I traveled from Beijing to Kunming by train, a journey that took 46 hours. Today, China's high-speed rail network that began in 2007 completes the same trip in just over 10 hours. This juxtaposition invites Americans to question why their own country, similar in size, lags behind in such transformative infrastructure. These observations on Xiaohongshu often evolve into nuanced discussions about different approaches to public investment and development.
As we consider the future of cross-border digital platforms, the current situation raises important questions about tech policy and digital diplomacy. The ongoing US-China tech decoupling trends suggest that platform accessibility will remain a critical issue. Yet the organic emergence of cross-cultural exchange on Xiaohongshu demonstrates the persistent human desire to connect across borders.
I am absolutely loving the genuine cultural exchange unfolding on Xiaohongshu. It is a space where people are not only learning about each other's cultures but also reimagining what their own societies could be. Americans are discovering aspects of Chinese life that challenge their assumptions, and Chinese users are gaining insights into American culture beyond the headlines. This exchange reminds us that social media, for all its flaws, holds incredible potential to foster understanding and empathy. As someone who has spent hours watching Spooky Lake Month, foundation reviews, and mac and cheese scandals on TikTok, I've found something far more valuable in this unexpected transition: a digital manifestation of the intercultural dialogue that educators like myself have long championed. While the future of cross-border social media platforms remains uncertain, these connections demonstrate a truth that genuine human connection can flourish even in the face of digital disruption, and individuals can build bridges even when their governments cannot.
This moment in digital history may well influence future approaches to platform governance and international tech policy. As policymakers consider questions of digital sovereignty and cross-border data flows, the natural social responses to the TikTok ban offer valuable insights into the human impact of these decisions. Most importantly, they remind us that in an era of increasing geopolitical tensions, individual connections and cultural exchange remain powerful forces for mutual understanding and positive change.
*Update: In the time it took me to write and edit this post, TikTok came back online for US users, less than 24 hours since it went dark. I hope that we all learned something from this experience and will continue our engagement on Xiaohongshu and other apps that allow us to exchange with others in the world who do not have access to all the platforms we use.