By Katie Coxall

Horoscopes have been around since antiquity, originating from ancient Babylonian texts and becoming popular within public life in Egypt under Hellenistic rule in the 2nd century BC. Astrology’s ability to divide individuals under some higher celestial power and determine specific personality traits has fascinated people all throughout history, and it still does in the 21st century.

Of course, people today aren’t as convinced by astrology as medieval peasants were. But the aspect of astrology that categorises individual identities into what appear to be scarily accurate groups is something that seems to awaken some ancient desire to be known by social media users, especially Gen Z TikTokkers.

I first noticed the chokehold astrology still has over young people when I downloaded TikTok. My feed seemed to be instantly bombarded by tarot card readers, talking directly to the viewer and pulling out cards that told me that the person I was crushing on would ask me out sometime soon. I’ve seen videos telling me what each ‘Angel Number’ means and videos that told me which star signs I should steer clear of in the coming months. What I found really interesting was that these videos sometimes had millions of views, likes and comments (reading along the lines of ‘omg this is so true for me!’).

One important thing to note about this specific brand of TikTok and, to some extent Twitter user, is the level of self-awareness they hold. The whole point of TikTok’s ‘For You Page’ is that it is an algorithm that specifically targets your likes and interests, remembering the videos you engage with to determine what you will be shown next. People on TikTok know that they’re being shown what they want to see – yet these tarot card videos are often taken at face value.

It's not just astrological fortune-telling that seems to capture the attention of people so well. It’s also seen quite a lot in less celestial categorisations, such as determining which ‘attachment style’ a person has and the classic Myers-Briggs personality type test (I’m an INFP).

There’s definitely a connection between the forceful anonymity induced by social media and the quick and easy route to self-awareness that identity categorisation allows. It’s something that’s labelled as the Barnum effect: accepting vague personality/situation descriptions as highly accurate to only yourself. People allow teenagers on TikTok to tell them that they have an anxious-avoidant attachment style because they can ascribe their own interpretations to the label. It seems highly personal, but it also does for the thousands of others that have been presented with the same information.

Under social media algorithms, it becomes a social activity. Although you’d imagine seeing thousands of other people ‘claiming’ specific tarot outcomes as their own would induce scepticism, social media really solidifies the sense of community offered by identity categorisation. Especially considering the impact the pandemic had on finding a sense of community via digital spaces, I think it makes sense that a lot of people use these prescribed categories to find people to relate to online.

It could be considered unhealthy – this type of categorisation can be argued to limit real self-perception, stripping away elements of multi-faceted human beings so that they fit into certain tight tick-boxes. But it’s also fun. That self-awareness possessed by a lot of Gen Z or Millennial TikTok users means there is a disconnect between the potentially serious advice solicited by these all-knowing content creators and the real world.

A tweet by @MarciaBelsky went viral in August 2021. It reads: ‘My therapist when I reference advice that I got from a sixteen-year-old tarot reader on TikTok’ (attached is that picture of Will Smith smoking a cigarette with his head in his hands). It got 11k likes. I think it is safe to assume that a lot of people are somewhat aware of the irony behind this type of content.

These videos don’t necessarily exist as genuine otherworldly prophecies or therapist approved sociological studies: there is always some layer of irony, humour and fun behind them. In some ways, identity categorisation has the potential to be dangerous and harmful to people that base actual real-life decisions on them.

But in others, it can be a fun way to be involved with a community through a directly engaging aspect of social media. As long as there is some acknowledged distance between real life and TikTok, there is no real toxicity in listening to the card reader telling you that life is going to get better in the coming months.