Latest news with #Smosh
Yahoo
09-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
They first went viral in 2005. They haven't stopped since.
ANAHEIM, Calif. — The first video I ever liked on YouTube was called 'Pokémon Theme Music Video.' Its resolution is shoddy, but I remember what happens in the clip: Two floppy-haired boys soulfully perform the Pokémon TV show theme song, lip-syncing, 'I wanna be the very best like no one ever was' as they dance around a childhood bedroom. They throw around a stuffed Pikachu toy, lick a Jesus figurine and expose their belly buttons. Ian Hecox and Anthony Padilla were teenagers on the cusp of adulthood when the video was posted in 2005. It was, for awhile, the most popular video on YouTube, reaching 24 million views until it was removed for copyright infringement. They then formed a duo they named Smosh — a joke based on a misunderstanding of the term 'mosh pit.' The two legends stand before me now, both 37 years old with distinctive, no-longer-floppy hairstyles. Hecox is still the 'adorkable' one — with his wire-rimmed glasses and funky-patterned shirt, he looks like a mix of Chris Evans and Charlie Day. Padilla leans more alternative, thanks to his neck tattoos, facial piercings and tiny braids sticking out of his tousled, wavy hair. They stopped to talk minutes after being honored at the content creator convention VidCon in June as part of its inaugural Hall of Fame. It was like going to a high school reunion and seeing that the one slightly weird popular guy who was always nice to you grew up and became a millionaire. Still upbeat and humorous, Hecox and Padilla are no longer powered by the feral enthusiasm of their teenage years. They grew up, but not too much. Just shy of 20 years after I first developed a crush on the playful duo, they have done the impossible: maintained a career as online creators. It hasn't been easy or predictable, but it's one for the history books. As Smosh and several other early social media pioneers gathered after VidCon's Hall of Fame ceremony, Hecox tells me that his whole career started because he and Padilla were bored. They'd been friends since sixth grade and dabbled in content creation on their own website, and MySpace before seeing that things could really take off on a new website called YouTube. 'At the time, there was no way to make money being a creator. It was just uploading weird videos of yourself,' he says. 'Pretty quickly, we started garnering an audience.' Eventually, they found a way to make money, dropped out of community college, left their parents' homes and never looked back. 'We were on a subway in 2006, and a random guy said, 'Are you the guys that made the Mortal Kombat theme song video?' And I said, 'Yeah.' And he said, 'It sucks,'' Padilla laughs. 'I was like, 'Oh, we're famous!'' When YouTube was still a novelty, it was hard to go viral but easier to gain a following. Algorithms hadn't yet mastered predicting what people like, so returning to certain pages was more commonplace. In the early years of Smosh, they parodied theme songs then began writing and performing sketches that skewered pop culture, like 'If Scary Movies Were Real' and 'Beef 'n Go.' Their posts were scrappy — shoddily filmed and familiar, like they might as well be your school friends messing around on camera. But they were seen by millions, becoming the most-subscribed YouTube channel for several months in 2006, 2007, 2008 and 2013. 'Smosh is honesty one of the best examples of what long-term success looks like in the creator economy,' Liam Parkinson, cofounder at creator payment company Inflverse, tells me after VidCon. 'They were one of the first YouTube duos to break through in the early 2000s, and 99.9% of creators who broke through as part of that first wave either disappeared or struggled to evolve. Smosh continued to reinvent itself. That's what makes it so unique.' The duo didn't just survive; they grew into a full-scale digital-first studio. Smosh isn't just here because it refused to go away. It transformed and adapted, despite reaching the brink of death at several points. Media company Alloy Digital, which later became Defy Media, purchased the Smosh brand in 2011, expanding it to include a variety of content, including animation and gaming videos. Smosh's then-president, Barry Blumberg, told Deadline in 2013 that the brand's viewership increased 40% since being acquired. In 2015, Smosh expanded beyond just a duo, hiring cast members to appear in sketches. They later started a web sitcom called Part Timers and a live sketch show called Smosh Live, launching multiple web series through the years and developing into a full entertainment company without any of the traditional trappings of a Hollywood studio. Ari Lightman, professor of digital media and marketing at Carnegie Mellon University, tells me that the way Smosh launched so many side channels and projects aided them in their evolution from an early YouTube artifact to an icon. They grew up as their audience did, collecting new viewers in the process. 'Sometimes, when ownership changes hands … you can become sort of polarized from your audience,' he says. '[Smosh] created a whole bunch of different channels — Smosh Games, and a variety of other things. … As a demographic gets older, they're looking for different types of content [and] things that will resonate with them.' What Smosh did worked, Lightman says, though it had its consequences. At a time when other channels were still figuring out how to survive, Smosh branched out and identified new trends like gaming and tried to conquer them. But as joining a larger media company like Defy Media helped them generate buzz, they lost some of their lovably scrappy foundation — and a cofounder. Padilla left the channel in 2017, citing a lack of 'creative freedom.' 'I've been holding on to these memories and hoping that someday Smosh should be like how it was when we first started, before Smosh was a brand, owned by a company,' Padilla says in a goodbye video shared to YouTube. 'And I had to come to terms with the fact that Smosh, being part of a company, has put all of my creative decisions through a filter of what's appropriate for the Smosh brand, as deemed by the company. … I need to be doing what makes me happiest to wake up each morning. Right now, that's, for me, to do things on my own again, with complete creative freedom — to be able to make whatever I want, whenever I want.' One year later, Defy Media abruptly shut down, laying everyone off. It looked like it might be the end for Smosh, but after a few months of functioning independently, it was purchased by Mythical Entertainment — a company owned by fellow longtime YouTubers Rhett & Link. Smosh was able to retain most of their cast and crew and soon launched a weekly podcast, building up their own business again. In 2023, Smosh returned to its roots. Padilla came back, and with Hecox, the duo purchased a majority stake to become an independent entity again. They've still got talent and an impressive production staff, but to this day, you can still catch a glimpse of the pair in sketches together and in Smosh's talk show, Bit City. Hecox, CEO Alessandra Catanese and cast member Angela Giarratana met with me the day after VidCon's Hall of Fame ceremony to discuss the longevity of Smosh. 'I got [Padilla] back as a friend first,' Hecox says. 'It's kind of crazy. Our comedic sensibilities are still so much alike even though we've totally changed as people. But being able to be friends in a more authentic context again has been really special, because we've just been able to just hang out and not have it be for business reasons.' 'We can't have them in sketches together,' interjects Giarratana, an improv savant who's wearing a boxy blazer that she's declared her 'interview outfit.' 'They're instigators. They're troublemakers. And it smells.' Catanese, who has been the CEO of Smosh since 2023, lets her coworkers fire off a few jokes before taking the reins. She tells me that Smosh has 'been through a lot of ups and downs, but without that, it wouldn't be what it is today.' 'There was a lot of learning of what not to do,' she continues. One of the biggest decisions she made, together with Padilla and Hecox, was that they wanted to stay privately owned. 'It honors the spirit and heart of what [Padilla and Hecox] did when they started it from the get-go, and also the roots of YouTube, which [are] in creative collaboration,' she says. 'Now, it feels like a well-oiled machine … our talent are thriving, our programming team are stronger than ever, and there's still a lot for us to learn … but we've learned failure is an opportunity, and there's nothing we can't overcome.' With 20 years of Smosh under his belt, Hecox's focus is no longer on the day-to-day operations of the brand. He's the president, and one of his priorities is finding employees who fit their values, then retaining that talent to help them move up in the ranks. For instance, their former channel manager is now the executive vice president of programming and content. Though he doesn't say it outright, I can tell that Hecox's pivot to president is part of the secret to his extraordinarily long career. It's hard to be in front of a camera for two decades — though, he admits, it's 'not coal mining' — but that doesn't mean you have to leave the brand you've built or the coworkers you adore behind. Something that was talked about frequently at VidCon is deciding when your future might be in management, not creation. It's a hard pivot — creating is glamorous, and management is strategic. Both keep the creator economy afloat. But just because you understand going viral doesn't mean you can run a business. 'I think this is something a lot of YouTubers need to face as they grow their own channels: Do I want to be a creator or do I want to be a manager?' Hecox says. 'I think there's a lot of people who think that growth is the only option … and that's not always the answer. You might need to hire somebody that is a talented manager … and understands business.' He lauds Catanese for the role she's played in sustaining the company. Catanese admits she can get swept up watching the cast perform — they're delightful — but that's not her native territory. 'I don't want to be in the limelight so much as I want to be great at the business side of things. I thrive off the idea of Smosh surviving another 20 years and helping everybody stay employed,' she says. 'Creators need to ask themselves that. ... At a certain point, you can't do both.' Catanese says most of Smosh's revenue comes from Google AdSense, or the money the platform shares with creators after showing ads on their videos. They also benefit greatly from branded content and livestreamed events. Their entire video production process, from preproduction to upload, takes up to two months. 'I can say this confidently: We've never been in a better place,' Hecox says. 'We're hitting on all cylinders. … I think our team is the best that it's ever been. The revenue's good, and I feel really positive about the future.' 'The audience says it's our golden era,' Giarratana adds. Among early YouTubers who have survived changes to platforms and content and the world, Smosh has been around the longest. Everyone wants to ask them the secret to longevity, myself included. Hecox answers sincerely, without a smirk or a harried sigh. He's addressed this many times, but that's a great problem to have. 'Just staying open. Staying open to new ideas, new formats, but not directly copying other creators,' he says. 'We have a defined company core value of comedy rooted in friendship — that's our mission statement — so we're able to filter everything through that. … We don't want to be a clone.' 'We like to Smoshify things,' Catanese adds. They each repeat the word with confidence, knowing that nothing that any other brand or YouTube channel will ever capture what it is to 'Smoshify.' Their story is too wild and messy to ever be emulated, and that's exactly why it works.
Yahoo
09-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
They 1st went viral in 2005. They haven't stopped since.
ANAHEIM, Calif. — The first video I ever liked on YouTube was called 'Pokémon Theme Music Video.' Its resolution is shoddy, but I remember what happens in the clip: Two floppy-haired boys soulfully perform the Pokémon TV show theme song, lip-syncing, 'I wanna be the very best like no one ever was' as they dance around a childhood bedroom. They throw around a stuffed Pikachu toy, lick a Jesus figurine and expose their belly buttons. Ian Hecox and Anthony Padilla were teenagers on the cusp of adulthood when the video was posted in 2005. It was, for a while, the most popular video on YouTube, reaching 24 million views until it was removed for copyright infringement. They then formed a duo they named Smosh — a joke based on a misunderstanding of the term 'mosh pit.' The two legends stand before me now, both 37 years old with distinctive, no-longer-floppy hairstyles. Hecox is still the 'adorkable' one — with his wire-rimmed glasses and funky-patterned shirt, he looks like a mix of Chris Evans and Charlie Day. Padilla leans more alternative, thanks to his neck tattoos and facial piercings, with tiny braids sticking out of his tousled, wavy hair. They stopped to talk minutes after being honored at the content creator convention VidCon in June as part of its inaugural Hall of Fame. It was like going to a high school reunion and seeing that the one slightly weird popular guy who was always nice to you grew up and became a millionaire. Still upbeat and humorous, Hecox and Padilla are no longer powered by the feral enthusiasm of their teenage years. They grew up, but not too much. Just shy of 20 years after I first developed a crush on the playful duo, they have done the impossible: Maintained a career as online creators. It hasn't been easy or predictable, but it's one for the history books. As Smosh and several other early social media pioneers gathered after VidCon's Hall of Fame ceremony, Hecox tells me that his whole career started because he and Padilla were bored. They'd been friends since sixth grade, and dabbled in content creation on their own website, and MySpace before seeing that things can really take off on a new website called YouTube. 'At the time, there was no way to make money being a creator. It was just uploading weird videos of yourself,' he says. 'Pretty quickly, we started garnering an audience.' Eventually, they found a way to make money, dropped out of community college, left their parents' homes and never looked back. 'We were on a subway in 2006 and a random guy said, 'Are you the guys that made the Mortal Kombat theme song video?' And I said, 'Yeah.' And he said, 'It sucks,'' Padilla laughs. 'I was like, 'Oh, we're famous!'' When YouTube was still a novelty, it was hard to go viral but easier to gain a following. Algorithms hadn't yet mastered predicting what people like, so returning to certain pages was more commonplace. In the early years of Smosh, they parodied theme songs, then began writing and performing sketches that skewered pop culture, like 'If Scary Movies Were Real' and 'Beef 'n Go.' Their posts were scrappy — shoddily filmed and familiar, like they might as well be your school friends messing around on a camera. But they were seen by millions, becoming the most-subscribed YouTube channel for several months in 2006, 2007, 2008 and 2013. 'Smosh is honesty one of the best examples of what long-term success looks like in the creator economy,' Liam Parkinson, cofounder at creator payment company Inflverse, tells me after VidCon. 'They were one of the first YouTube duos to break through in the early 2000s, and 99.9% of creators who broke through as part of that first wave either disappeared or struggled to evolve. Smosh continued to reinvent itself. That's what makes it so unique.' The duo didn't just survive; they grew into a full-scale digital-first studio. Smosh isn't just here because it refused to go away. It transformed and adapted, despite reaching the brink of death at several points. Media company Alloy Digital, which later became Defy Media, purchased the Smosh brand in 2011, expanding it to include a variety of content, including animation and gaming videos. Smosh's then-president, Barry Blumberg, told Deadline in 2013 that the brand's viewership increased 40% since being acquired. In 2015, Smosh expanded beyond just a duo, hiring cast members to appear in sketches. They later started a web sitcom called Part Timers and a live sketch show called Smosh Live, launching multiple web series through the years and developing into a full entertainment company without any of the traditional trappings of a Hollywood studio. Ari Lightman, professor of digital media and marketing at Carnegie Mellon University, tells me that the way Smosh launched so many side channels and projects aided them in their evolution from an early YouTube artifact to an icon. They grew up as their audience did, collecting new viewers in the process. 'Sometimes, when ownership changes hands … you can become sort of polarized from your audience,' he explains. '[Smosh] created a whole bunch of different channels — Smosh Games, and a variety of other things … as a demographic gets older, they're looking for different types of content [and] things that will resonate with them.' What Smosh did worked, Lightman says, though it had its consequences. At a time when other channels were still figuring out how to survive, Smosh branched out, identifying new trends, like gaming, and tried to conquer them. But as joining a larger media company like Defy Media helped them generate buzz, they lost some of their lovably scrappy foundation — and a cofounder. Padilla left the channel in 2017, citing a lack of 'creative freedom.' 'I've been holding on to these memories and hoping that someday Smosh should be like how it was from we first started, before Smosh was a brand, owned by a company,' Padilla says in a goodbye video shared to YouTube. 'And I had to come to terms with the fact that Smosh, being part of a company, has put all of my creative decisions through a filter of what's appropriate for the Smosh brand, as deemed by the company … I need to be doing what makes me happiest to wake up each morning. Right now, that's, for me, to do things on my own again, with complete creative freedom — to be able to make whatever I want, whenever I want.' One year later, Defy Media abruptly shut down, laying everyone off. It looked like it might be the end for Smosh, after a few months of functioning independently, it was purchased by Mythical Entertainment — a company owned by fellow longtime YouTubers Rhett & Link. Smosh was able to retain most of their cast and crew, and soon launched a new weekly podcast, building up their own business again. In 2023, Smosh returned to its roots. Padilla came back, and with Hecox, the duo purchased a majority stake to become an independent entity again. They've still got talent and an impressive production staff, but to this day, you can still catch a glimpse of the pair in sketches together and in Smosh's talk show, Bit City. Hecox, CEO Alessandra Catanese and cast member Angela Giarratana met with me the day after VidCon's Hall of Fame ceremony to discuss the longevity of Smosh. 'I got [Padilla] back as a friend first,' Hecox says. 'It's kind of crazy. Our comedic sensibilities are still so much alike even though we've totally changed as people. But being able to be friends in a more authentic context again has been really special because we've just been able to just hang out and not have it be for business reasons.' 'We can't have them in sketches together,' interjects Giarratana, an improv savant who's wearing a boxy blazer that she's declared her 'interview outfit.' 'They're instigators. They're troublemakers. And it smells.' Catanese, who has been the CEO of Smosh since 2023, lets her coworkers fire off a few jokes before taking the reins. She tells me that Smosh has 'been through a lot of ups and downs, but without that, it wouldn't be what it is today.' 'There was a lot of learning of what not to do,' she continues. One of the biggest decisions she made, together with Padilla and Hecox, was that they wanted to stay privately owned. 'It honors the spirit and heart of what [Padilla and Hecox] did when they started it from the get-go, and also the roots of YouTube, which [are] in creative collaboration,' she says. 'Now, it feels like a well-oiled machine … our talent are thriving, our programming team are stronger than ever, and there's still a lot for us to learn … but we've learned failure is an opportunity and there's nothing we can't overcome.' With 20 years of Smosh under his belt, Hecox's focus is no longer on the day-to-day operations of the brand. He's the president, and one of his priorities is finding employees who fit their values, then retaining that talent to help them move up in the ranks. For instance, their former channel manager is now the EVP of programming and content. Though he doesn't say it outright, I can tell that Hecox's pivot to president is part of the secret to his extraordinarily long career. It's hard to be in front of a camera for two decades — though, he admits, it's 'not coal mining' — but that doesn't mean you have to leave the brand you've built or the coworkers you adore behind. Something that was talked about frequently at VidCon is deciding when your future might be in management, not creation. It's a hard pivot — creating is glamorous, and management is strategic. Both keep the creator economy afloat. But just because you understand going viral doesn't mean you can run a business. 'I think this is something a lot of YouTubers need to face as they grow their own channels: Do I want to be a creator or do I want to be a manager?' Hecox says.' I think there's a lot of people who think that growth is the only option … and that's not always the answer. You might need to hire somebody that is a talented manager … and understands business.' He lauds Catanese for the role she's played in sustaining the company. Catanese admits she can get swept up watching the cast perform — they're delightful — but that's not her native territory. 'I don't want to be in the limelight so much as I want to be great at the business side of things. I thrive off the idea of Smosh surviving another 20 years and helping everybody stay employed,' she says. 'Creators need to ask themselves that … at a certain point, you can't do both.' Catanese says most of Smosh's revenue comes from Google AdSense, or the money the platform shares with creators after showing ads on their videos. They also benefit greatly from branded content and livestreamed events. Their entire video production process, from pre-production to upload, takes up to two months. 'I can say this confidently: We've never been in a better place,' Hecox says. 'We're hitting on all cylinders … I think our team is the best that it's ever been. The revenue's good, and I feel really positive about the future.' 'The audience says it's our golden era,' Giarratana adds. Among early YouTubers who have survived changes to platforms and content and the world, Smosh has been around the longest. Everyone wants to ask them the secret to longevity, myself included. Hecox answers sincerely, without a smirk or a harried sigh. He's addressed this many times, but that's a great problem to have. 'Just staying open. Staying open to new ideas, new formats, but not directly copying other creators,' he says. 'We have a defined company core value of comedy rooted in friendship — that's our mission statement — so we're able to filter everything through that … we don't want to be a clone.' 'We like to Smoshify things,' Catanese adds. They each repeat the word with confidence, knowing that nothing that any other brand or YouTube channel will ever capture what it is to 'Smoshify.' Their story is too wild and messy to ever be emulated, and that's exactly why it works.
Business Insider
13-05-2025
- Business
- Business Insider
Meet the CEOs behind YouTube's biggest stars
Anthony Padilla and Ian Hecox might be the faces of the YouTube comedy collective, Smosh, but behind the cameras, someone else helps run their 64-person team. Padilla and Hecox named Alessandra Catanese, Padilla's longtime manager, CEO in 2023. This allowed the pair to focus on the creative side of their YouTube channels. Catanese handles the company's day-to-day operations and overall business strategy. "I certainly don't believe that every creator needs a CEO, but I do believe not every creator is a CEO," Catanese told Business Insider. Smosh isn't the only creator-led operation to put an outside executive in a top role in the past few years. In 2023, the popular sports creator Jesser hired Zach Miller, a Spotify and NBCUniversal alum, as its first president. In 2024, YouTube's most-subscribed-to creator, Jimmy "MrBeast" Donaldson, hired Jeffrey Housenbold to lead his company as CEO and president. Donaldson is among a generation of YouTube creators who came to fame at a young age. He didn't attend college or even work a regular job before he got into content creation. Leaders from the outside can help creators like MrBeast fill skills gaps and build teams as they look to rival Hollywood studios. Some of the biggest YouTubers are now leaning on CEOs, presidents, and other C-suite executives to help them make smart business moves and manage sprawling production teams. They're tapping execs from talent management firms, Hollywood, and creator economy startups. "A lot of creators have reached a scale where they know they need more operating support," said Sean Atkins, CEO of Dhar Mann Studios. Atkins, a former MTV exec, joined the company from creator Dhar Mann last year. The new class of YouTuber chief executives is helping creators build teams, develop M&A strategies, raise funding, or weather growing pains. Timothy Salmon was promoted last year to president of CatFace, the company behind YouTuber Aphmau, who has 23.6 million subscribers and makes videos about Minecraft. Salmon joined the company in 2018 and has a background in post-production for TV and film. He helps manage a 93-person team in Austin, freeing up creator Jessica Bravura to focus on creative tasks, like writing scripts and planning videos. He keeps the team on top of YouTube's ever-shifting algorithm. "YouTube is an ever-evolving beast," Salmon said. "If you're not flexible and you can't adapt, it will leave you behind." Catanese, meanwhile, works from Smosh's Los Angeles office, where she spends most of her time meeting with staff or business partners. She has helped Smosh hire to adapt to TV screens and cash in on YouTube's battle with streamers. Catanese elevated Kiana Parker to the role of executive vice president of programming, overseeing this strategy for Smosh. Atkins, who works from New York and LA, studies the Dhar Mann audience. He analyzes metrics like viewership, watch time, and click-through rates and uses them to evaluate the company's strategies. "I wake up in the morning, and I immediately look at the numbers," Atkins said. He also oversees operations, such as hiring, and new brand initiatives, like touring and M&A. In February, his team hired a chief strategy officer to work alongside Atkins on sourcing, negotiating, and structuring potential M&A deals. Meanwhile, creator group Dude Perfect brought on former NBA exec Andrew Yaffe as CEO late last year. He helps hire talent in front of and behind the camera, build partnerships with brands, and manage the long-term strategy. Housenbold, the CEO of Beast Industries, is leading MrBeast's company as it raises fresh capital. Housenbold has compared the company to Disney for the next generation when pitching prospective investors, as Business Insider previously reported. Some creators are reluctant to cede control For a creator, bringing on a CEO or president also means letting go of some control. "It's hard because creators come from an industry rooted in doing it all by themselves," Catanese said. At the end of the day, their name and brand are on the line. Salmon at CatFace said there have been times when the broader team was set on a strategy, like a brand deal or how a sponsor was presented in a video, but the creator said it didn't feel right. "Working with content creators can be very fascinating, frustrating, exciting, and exhausting," Salmon said. "This company is a representation of who they are. It's understandable that they're picky about the brand and how it's seen." But the biggest risk to a creator business is burnout, and CEOs and other executives can help take some of the pressure off creators. "I always tell creators to build systems and teams around them so that they can continue to scale without burning out," Atkins said. "The No. 1 thing I see for a lot of creators is that they've done everything in the past, so they continue to try to do everything themselves without taking a break." Part of a CEO's job is making creators feel comfortable that they're not going to mess with what's working. For most creator businesses, the creator is at the center of the content, and it really doesn't work without them. "Let's not forget who built this," Atkins said. "My job is to enhance it, not to change it."
Egypt Today
22-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Egypt Today
How Online Communities Teach Sympathy and Understanding POVS
One of the things I love doing in my spare time is watching YouTube. It doesn't matter what the content is, such as movie analysis, stand-up comedy, fashion, etc., but watching Reddit stories has taken up most of my time. I spend all of my time watching the entirety of Smosh's Reddit stories, even the ones I've seen before, call me boring, I don't care. Brimmed with their humor and different but interesting takes, what I've learned from Smosh and other channels that do such things, like Two Hot Takes, is the importance of seeing things in a different light. I'm guilty of having my preconceived notions and biases when it comes to someone telling me a story and asking for a piece of advice, and as much as I like and attempt to be objective, sometimes I fall into the trap of siding with my friend and forming an allegiance. What these Reddit stories and online communities exist on Facebook in the form of private groups, WhatsApp channels, or Twitter discussions on a phenomenon have taught me is: A) See beyond the text. B) Be aware of the language used in the post or how the person telling the story is using specific words. C) Not everyone has the same thoughts as you. So I'd like to share my opinion on how social media's online community can be beneficial and teach you something along the way. So, based on my experience being chronically online, I found that despite being isolated in real life and feeling like we are not heard if we speak up about the problems we face to our trusted friends, we find solace with strangers. What I saw is people seeking unbiased, objective answers to their problems, without feeling shame or judgment. People are lured to using social media to air their problems or situations because of the anonymity provided to them; even if the problem seems small, it's about being supported, feeling seen, and seeing things clearly. Another thing that I've learned along the way is how I jump the gun completely and rely on emotions only instead of seeing the full picture. For example, watching these Reddit stories on Smosh or reading a member's post on a Facebook group about someone telling their story and instantly, i side with the original poster, as I let myself be in their shoes and see things from their point of view, I forget about the other side and dismiss how the words were used. What people online have taught me is to read between the lines, balance between emotions and facts, and always remember that to each story there's her side, his, and the truth, so I take a step back and try to listen and read more, instead of stating my opinion. The more I read stories posted online and saw tweets on situations that people went through, seeing their words and feeling pierced my eyes and my heart, I became more sympathetic, less judgmental, and more open, we are all human, faults and all, to see people coming online to tell their tale and look for solutions instead of being a bystander, really made me more compassionate, eager to help, and be more kind. Sure, social media has its flaws, but there's undeniable benefit and beauty to it. The community it provides for the lonely, the unheard, and the broken who seek help and compassion is truly remarkable. Whether it's a simple ask,l ike a woman asking which dress to wear when meeting her date, a girl trying to figure out which college she enrolls in, or a man bonding with other guys over their love for soccer or games that lead to years of friendship. The right online community builds trust, transparency and teaches people.
