Before mainstream social media took off, subcultures were a key way for young people to find a sense of belonging. Through shared beliefs, style, music, and physical spaces, these communities offered meaning and identity for those who felt alienated by the mainstream. But in todays digital world—where algorithms and popularity drive trends—many subcultures become commodified and watered down once they attract attention, making it increasingly difficult for them to maintain their authenticity and original spirit.
Beyond its textbook meaning as a smaller culture within a larger trend, a subculture is a way of life. Take punk, for example. Born out of political unrest in the 1970s, punk wasn’t just about music or hairstyles—it was a form of rebellion. Whether it was punk clubs like London’s 100 Club or The Roxy, skate spots in NYC, or arcades like the Chinatown Fair for the early fighting game scene, subcultures were once facilitated by unique gathering places. Culture grew in person, in face-to-face interactions.
The physical side of subcultures was a large part of their authenticity. People weren’t punks because of their Spotify playlists—they were punks because they were out causing ruckus in the streets. Similarly, skaters weren’t defined by a board emoji in their Instagram bios, but by the blood on their knees and the stories shared in skate shops.
In the 2000s, the internet opened a new space for subcultures to flourish. Websites like GeoCities let people create their own messy, personalized worlds—perfect for emo kids, anime fans, goth bloggers, and more. In 2007, Tumbler was created, offering customizable blogs that felt more like digital diaries than profiles.
Economics teacher Jack Neumeier grew up in the gaming subculture of the 2000s. At a time when gaming was still a niche community, it remained largely hidden from the mainstream. “I remember vividly when the first Halo came out,” he said. Halo, now a popular online multiplayer game, was a much more physical, communal experience back then. “You’d bring your desktop, hook them all up, and then you’d do a LAN,” he added.
Local Area Network, or LAN, tournaments were synonymous with gaming in the 2000s. Online matchmaking still existed, but gamers often preferred going out of their homes to connect in person with nearby players, forming and strengthening their whole community as a whole.
“Technology was truly a way to connect with others because it could not encompass your whole life,” Neumeier said. “Nowadays it does encompass your life from the beginning, and that’s what’s so deleterious for your wellbeing.”
These resources weren’t driven by algorithms. People made friends by searching, scrolling, and investing their energy. Online subcultures were digital mirrors of physical ones—held together by genuine interest, not popularity.
It wasn’t just the continued expansion of the internet that made a difference, but instead, how the internet itself changed. The turning point came in 2011 with Facebook’s introduction of EdgeRank—a content algorithm that determines what posts went viral based on a user’s preferences, content, and time relevancy. Suddenly, posts were prioritized based on engagement, not expression. Personal profiles became performative, and subcultures were valued more for their aesthetic appeal than their actual culture.
In 2010, Pinterest was launched. In 2016, TikTok followed. These platforms, alongside most major social media apps today, use algorithms powered by machine learning to predict what will go viral. With their rise, fashion transformed from a slow evolution into a race through smaller trends.
Subcultures used to mean doing something, and being a part of a unique community based on shared interests. Now, it means looking like you do. What once required community, risk, and lived experience has now become a form of cosplay. Subcultures are flattened into pure aesthetic—”Y2K,” “Grunge Revival,” or “Indie”—a surface without depth.
Social media trends have blended previously disparate groups into a unified culture. Everyone is using the same apps and consuming the same content, making it increasingly difficult for subcultures to maintain their unique identities in a space that rewards conformity over authenticity.
Still, subcultures aren’t gone. They are alive and thriving just as much as when they first started. However, the problem lies in the way modern social media platforms misrepresent these subcultures—reducing rich, lived traditions into shallow trends. Nevertheless, the true spirit of these communities lives on in the people who care about them most.
