Youth distrust of mainstream media is more intense than ever. Forty-eight percent of people 18 to 29 say keeping up with politics is one reason they’re on TikTok. Amid the contracting and crumbling of the media industry, we’re in the era of the YouTube video essay, the talking-to-camera headline roundup, and the independently-run newsletter. Welcome to Teen Vogue’s new series Logged On, where we talk to the people bringing you politics and the news in innovative and fun ways.
“Not the bore worms!” moans TikTok star Anania, 24, giving a shiver in her Trixie Mattel pale pink finest, dress sleeves and hem trimmed with feathers. It’s shortly after the airing of The Bald and The Beautiful podcast episode hosted by Trixie’s other half, Katya Zamolodchikova, guest-starring the iconic T.S. Madison, where Madison cannot stop repeating the phrase (itself a reference to 80s campy classic Flash Gordon) to giggles from Katya. Anania is playing a similar role now in sunny McCarren Park, sending me into uncontrollable giggles while we stand in front of a camera set-up, directed in part by 27-year-old Amelia Montooth.
It’s a very gay-to-gay bit – drag queens! Campy movies! Internet brain rot! – which is ironic, given why we’re there. Anania is the host of the new TikTok series Gaydar, part of Montooth’s new media venture, Mutuals. The set-up: Anania quizzes people in a “man-on-the-street”-style interview, and attempts to guess if the participant is “gay, straight, or a homophobe” — hence Gaydar. The guests range widely; while the most recent episode (at time of writing) features none other than 25-year-old rockstar Towa Bird, you're unlikely to recognize the average guest, keeping the show's vibe down-to-earth.
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The host’s existing 2.3 million followers certainly provided the series with a built-in following, but they and Montooth didn’t necessarily predict the popularity it would have: After premiering July 22, the series garnered 19 million views over its first 10 episodes, and according to Mutuals, over 92% of Gaydar’s viewers are in the 18 to 35 age bracket.
Gaydar’s format is cheeky, the interviews laden with curse words and risque jokes, but the questions are deceptively thought-out and researched (they can do both). “We want to have at least a couple questions about queer slang. We want to have at least a couple questions about queer sex. We want to have at least a couple questions about anti-queer policy, or anti-queer figures in the media,” Montooth explains over iced coffee, seated next to Anania, whose glazed-donut highlighter is nearly blinding me from across the table. “It really ranges, episode to episode. I think we'll get deeper at some points, but we also want this show to be able to reach people who have, like, never read a New York Times article in their entire lives.”
Mainstream media is struggling to reach that audience, which distrusts legacy media and is protective of what they see as the authenticity of TikTok as a platform (which comes with its own problems). Anania and Montooth both cite the contemporary bigotry against LGBTQ+ people, particularly against trans people – which I’ve previously argued the Times’ coverage has perpetuated – as a driving factor in focusing on both a lighthearted concept and real attempts at educating viewers.
“It's nice having the blend between teaching people certain queer things they just wouldn't know, or they misunderstood, or there's some kind of stigma behind,” Anania tells Teen Vogue. “It's also just nice to be able to meet these really cool people and share positive queer experiences without being so catastrophic and negative.”
While there are plenty of queer and trans people gaining footholds in pop culture and other avenues, Montooth notes that, this year in particular, a ton of those figures are white cis lesbians, like Reneé Rapp (who is dating the aforementioned Towa Bird) and Chappell Roan.
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“I think that's making a lot of queer people and allies feel as though we've arrived at a point where queer people are safe and okay now, where we obviously know that's not true with everybody. That’s a very small margin,” says Montooth. “It's interesting to see that happening at the exact same time that we're seeing this unbelievable rise in anti-trans bills… I wanted to create a show that encapsulated the entire queer experience, and that includes queer joy, queer sex, queer culture and anti-queer policy — and that we all, queers and allies, need to be aware in order to fight it.”
For as many people who know about Rapp and Roan, Montooth says, “Most people don't know who [Florida Governor] Ron DeSantis is, most people don't know who [VP nominee] JD Vance is, most people don't know who [Supreme Court justice] Clarence Thomas is.” That’s why their priority is sneaking the vegetables in with the sweets, entertaining people while reminding them that “the people who are behind these policies that we don't like have names and addresses.”
“In our world right now, with Gen Z, everyone wants to change the system. When the system seems impenetrable… it feels really hard to change that,” says Montooth. “I don't want to beat you over the head with it, but I want to give [our audience] the tools to do your own research and figure out who these players are.”
It seems to be working. “All the comments have been really, really informative, and cute, nice, really positive, too,” says Anania. “[It’s] just nice to see people admitting, I didn't know this, I learned something, and they also get a laugh out of it too. Literally my entire life goal.”
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Montooth credits this to Anania’s hosting skills and charisma: “She is uniquely able to talk about some of the darkest or hardest people or moments or policies that the queer community has to deal with in a way that is so optimistic and funny, while also holding truth to power.”
“I'm a f***ing clown… I feel like I can persuade anybody to do anything. Especially as a Black trans person, I have to go about life so specific and non-confrontational,” Anania says. “I feel like I’ve figured out some kind of way to reach people to where they are, and really have them open up, trust me a little bit, just for the 15-minute interview.”
So, has there been any backlash? Has the content found the wrong audience, so to speak? “I was really scared, when we first started, about what the comments would look like, especially as a trans person,” recalls Anania. “[But] it's been nice that I haven't had to be on my own guard. I haven't felt attacked 98% of the time.”
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I agreed to come on Gaydar because as a journalist focused on young marginalized people, I’m deeply interested in how we can get people more excited to understand our world and the political system. I have a platform in mainstream media, but it’s one that almost never includes my face, and rarely incorporates how I identify. Spoiler alert: I am queer and trans, which Anania correctly guesses once her quiz is through. There’s been a range of participants on Gaydar, and regardless of how you identify, the goal is for you to come away not just laughing but having learned something. (While the comments were pretty gagged by how successfully I answered the questions, I learned that Illinois was the first state to decriminalize sodomy!) Hopefully, I also taught someone else about Katy Perry’s history of weirdly homophobic songs.
It’s definitely true that Anania’s personableness creates a safe container to answer goofy intimate trivia. She must’ve gotten me with “not the bore worms!” easily seven times in our roughly 15 minutes of shooting, while a short line of extremely hip-looking interviewees waited in the background. As I left McCarren, someone asked if I’d been talking to Anania — if it was really her. It speaks to the weird way fame and virality functions in this moment, and highlights the attempt at responsibility both Anania and Montooth are exercising through Gaydar. They could both just be gunning for sponsorship bags; instead, they’re making cracks about bigotry while reminding viewers how much more fun it is to be informed and be yourself.
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