SEPTEMBER 12, 2025 | OPINION | By Grant Loui
In this world, there are two kinds of people. People who think what they say matters, and people who know what they say matters. Yik Yak is filled with the former. Never before has an app emboldened the most worthless individuals to believe that their words are worthy of attention.
The kind of person who posts on Yik Yak is, in most respects, no different from the other losers and wannabes that populate other social media platforms, apart from one key difference: they don’t exist. At least not in any meaningful way. In the absence of a profile picture or username, no one knows who said what. While this can create monsters who post hateful things, hiding behind the mask of anonymity, it also creates a second type of person. Someone who slowly becomes corrupted by the need for validation, yet by the very nature of the app is denied, slowly morphing into a grotesque and deformed egomaniac whose solitary goal is to be seen and validated, driven by the desire to fill the void in their soul, ultimately falling deeper into madness.
Yik Yak is a paradise for lazy thieves. I know for a fact that people take the top posts from other colleges and repost them here, and I know the inverse also occurs. People take jokes they’ve seen on other platforms, or from Yik Yak itself, and they repost them on our school’s platform. Why? It’s because they know they are less likely to be called out for it, and if someone recognizes their stolen post, it doesn’t matter because everyone is anonymous. The people who steal jokes and constantly echo the same punchline or opinion do so because they know their own opinions are worthless and their jokes are lame. Yik Yak makes people feel as if they deserve to be heard, as if we have the obligation and privilege to listen to their worthless words, lacking any form of originality or substance.
When someone complains on Yik Yak, it truly is an interesting sight. Seeing someone yell into the void with such ego as if anyone truly cares. It almost makes one feel pity for these individuals. Almost. These whiners need validation beyond their social circle, who have undoubtedly already been subject to grousing. Typing out one’s frustrations on Yik Yak has no purpose other than to accumulate upvotes so that the author feels better about themselves. Indeed, there have been only a few instances in this app’s existence where someone has made a valid complaint. The vast majority of complaints only serve to uphold the toxic shrine of ego that plagues the app.
And that’s the worst part of it all. One’s ego cannot truly handle anonymity. Have you ever talked with someone who told you about the Yik Yak they posted or were mentioned in? If you haven’t experienced that, just wait—it will happen. When it does, look at the joy and smugness on their face. It’s genuinely fascinating to see them think they’ve done something significant. If you’re lucky enough to hear them explain their post, you’ll truly witness the amazing duality of their mind. The ego believes it has a voice worth listening to, juxtaposed with a deep desire for validation. The need for a laugh, an upvote, a pitiful lack of respect for both you and themselves. I’ve had people tell me to find and upvote their post. Anonymity isn’t a fun feature of the app; it’s the chains that shackle poor, corrupted souls desperate for attention. Why would they tell you about their anonymous post if they felt comfortable remaining anonymous?
If a tree falls and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? If your Yik Yak gets 500 karma but no one knows it’s you, do you really matter? The answer is no, and you know that. And that’s why your desperate need to be seen is so pathetic. Yik Yak shows that validation and love received without an identity are meaningless: only existing to deepen the hole you wish to fill.