I was scrolling through TikTok the other night when a video popped up claiming birth control was “poisoning women.” The creator had perfect skin, that aura that makes you stop doomscrolling, “just sharing what worked for me.” I watched it all the way through.
That video had over a million likes. Then I noticed the comments, “This makes so much sense.” “Doctors never tell us this!” “I’m throwing my pills away.”
That’s when it hit me. This is how people learn about their health now. Not from doctors, not from science, but from strangers with ring lights.
We don’t think of ourselves as health influencers, but we are. Every time we share a video about “gut healing,” post a mental health TikTok, or talk about supplements, we’re influencing what people believe, whether we mean to or not. The line between “sharing” and “spreading” is basically gone.
And it’s terrifying.
Because the internet is drowning in misinformation (and disinformation) that looks and sounds like the truth. It’s pretty, relatable, digestible, and often completely wrong.
Since studying Health Communication, I’ve started seeing it everywhere. The fitness influencers who recommend “detox teas” that destroy your stomach. The “natural” wellness coaches who tell people to replace antidepressants with herbs. The TikTok creators who confidently diagnose strangers with “high cortisol” based on dark circles under their eyes. It’s not just cringey anymore; it has become dangerous.
The internet rewards attention, not accuracy. The algorithm doesn’t care if a post is true, only if it keeps people watching. And the stuff that gets people watching is usually the stuff that scares them. Fear gets clicks. Shock sells. And before you know it, lies have spread faster than public health campaigns ever could.
What makes it worse is that a lot of these influencers are making money. Some of them build entire brands around “wellness” and profit off people’s fear and confusion. They’ll tell you doctors don’t want you to know about “natural healing,” then drop an affiliate link for a $60 supplement that “changed their life.” They’ll say “ditch Western medicine,” and then plug their online course for $99. It’s health misinformation packaged as empowerment, and it works because it feels personal.
And that’s what scares me. Most people sharing this stuff aren’t trying to cause harm. They’re just trying to help. But social media takes personal stories and turns them into public advice…fast. “It worked for me” becomes “it will work for everyone.” Then suddenly, hundreds of thousands of people are doing something that isn’t safe or backed by science, but it looks trustworthy because the person selling it seems relatable.
This is where it stops being just annoying and starts being genuinely horrifying. Because misinformation doesn’t just stay online. It shows up in real life. People stop taking medications. They avoid doctors. They believe vaccines cause autism or that eating raw garlic will cure infections. And when those beliefs spread through marginalized communities, which are communities that already face barriers to care, the damage multiplies.
That’s why I keep thinking about what happens if nothing changes.
If platforms keep prioritizing engagement over safety, misinformation will keep spreading faster, louder, and smarter. People will trust influencers more than healthcare professionals. The word “science” will keep losing meaning. And eventually, the gap between truth and belief will be so wide that no amount of education will fix it.
That’s what terrifies me the most, that we could reach a point where the truth simply doesn’t matter anymore. Where facts can’t compete with charisma.
And it’s not just about TikTok. It’s everywhere. Health apps are collecting your data. “AI therapists” that aren’t regulated. Trendy supplements sold through affiliate codes. We’re living in a time where health, tech, and marketing are so tangled up that it’s almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.
This isn’t a “just stop using social media” problem. We can’t. It’s part of how we connect and learn. But we can be more aware. We can pause before we repost a “health hack.” We can ask where the information came from and who benefits from us believing it. We can follow creators who cite sources and challenge the ones who don’t.
I don’t think we realize how much power we actually have. We always talk about “influencers,” but the truth is that every single person online influences someone. Even your private story. Even your throwaway repost. The algorithm just amplifies whatever gets engagement; it doesn’t care about your intentions.
So yeah, we’re all health influencers now. Whether we like it or not. And if we keep pretending we’re not, things are going to get so much worse.
If nothing changes, we’re looking at a future where misinformation feels safer than facts. Where health becomes another trend to monetize. Where “wellness” replaces science entirely.
That should scare you. It scares me.
Because we didn’t choose this system. But we’re the ones living in it, and if we don’t start questioning it, it’s going to keep deciding what we believe about our own bodies.