Why I Don't Like Snapchat
Kate Chung
I often say I’ve never had Snapchat, but that’s not entirely true. In fifth grade, I downloaded the app on my grandma’s phone — strictly for the filter that gave me dog ears and large, buggy eyes. But beyond that brief interaction, I never used Snapchat for its intended purpose: sending disappearing pictures and cultivating streaks like your life depends on it.
Up until now, I’ve steered clear of Snapchat, a social media platform that has somehow remained popular and relevant since its boom in 2012. It just didn’t appeal to me. I've always been a bit hesitant to download the app, mostly because of its reputation: addictive, shallow and full of people I’d probably avoid in real life. The fear of being labeled a “snap hoe” (a term I wish didn’t exist, but unfortunately does) only added to my hesitation, but despite my aversion to the title, curiosity recently got the better of me. I figured there had to be something in this app that's worth its reputation — something I’d been missing out on all this time. I wanted to understand what made Snapchat such a staple in my friends’ phones, so I downloaded it again, this time on my own phone, and braced myself for the experience.
It only took about an hour to get the hang of it. After 20 practice snaps sent to my friend (who deserves an award for her patience), I was ready to enter the world of streaks and stories like a true internet champ.
By the end of week one, I had seen the faces of an incredible amount of strangers, too many to even count. That’s a lie. I did count. Over the course of five days, I received a photo of someone's eye or the corner of someone’s forehead 227 times.
And now I ask, is this really what meaningful connection looks like now?
Sure, Snapchat has some cool features and is a helpful tool to keep in contact with old friends or make new ones, but beyond the filters and dopamine hits from the notifications, the app feels like an infinite loop of low-effort communication. Streaks become a chore, conversations expire and disappear before you can process them and strangers only type the same three or four letters: “wyll” (what you look like) and “age.”
But more than anything, Snapchat feels like quantity over quality. It asks users to keep digital ties through streak numbers and photos of steering wheels or ceiling fans, instead of hosting actual conversation for connection. And even though it may be what some users are looking for in a social app, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was playing a game with no real reward.
I’m not saying everyone should delete the app tomorrow. For many, Snapchat is a genuine social outlet or an easy way to check in with long-lost buddies. But for me, it’s safe to say I’ll only be using it to mess with my friends.
So, after giving it a fair chance, I’ve decided that I’m not a big fan. My grandma’s 2018 filters might’ve been the peak of my Snapchat experience — and honestly, I’m okay with that.