Author: Mia Jean

I still remember the exact moment it happened.
It was the Fourth of July, and my family and I were driving to see fireworks when my phone suddenly exploded with notifications. Thousands of them. For a second, I thought something was wrong, then I realized what had happened: my most recent YouTube video had gone viral.

It was the moment I had dreamed about for an entire year. I had poured hours into editing, scripting, and fine-tuning my videos, hoping one of them would finally break through. And that night, it did. But after the excitement settled, a question started to form in my head: why that video?

Why do some videos go viral while others—sometimes even better ones—barely get noticed? I knew it couldn’t just be about effort. There are thousands of small creators who spend hours perfecting their videos that never get traction, while some random five-second clip takes off overnight. So, I started researching.

What I found was that social media platforms operate like companies—their algorithms are designed to keep viewers on the platform for as long as possible. That means videos that are sticky, emotional, or easy to share are favored. It’s less about production quality and more about engagement potential. If your video makes people watch till the end—or better yet, makes them comment, like, or share, it tells the algorithm, “Hey, this keeps people hooked,” and the platform pushes it out to more users.

But there’s also a psychological side to virality. Studies show that videos that trigger strong emotions, especially awe, laughter, or anger, tend to spread faster. Humans are wired to share emotional experiences. When something makes us feel deeply, we want others to feel it too. That’s why heartwarming rescue videos, shocking headlines, and funny clips blow up—they make us react instantly.

Timing also plays a role. Posting when your audience is most active or when a topic is trending can make the difference between 100 views and 1,000,000. People want to feel part of the moment, and viral content feeds that sense of belonging.

And then there’s the “relatability factor.” Viral videos often feel personal. They look raw, authentic, and unscripted, even when they’re not. Viewers see a bit of themselves in the creator or the situation, which builds trust and makes them hit “share.”

So while I may not have cracked the full formula behind virality, I’ve learned this: going viral isn’t just about luck. It’s about understanding how people think, feel, and connect. Every share, every comment, every click, it’s all part of a bigger psychological pattern.

That Fourth of July taught me more than what it feels like to go viral. It showed me how powerful storytelling can be, even in its simplest, shortest form. And ever since then, I’ve been chasing not just numbers, but the human reasons behind them.

Have you ever noticed that there are some pictures everyone just seems to know? You don’t need a caption or context, one look, and you instantly recognize what it’s about. Think of the “Earthrise” photo from Apollo 8, the man standing in front of the tank at Tiananmen Square, or the image of firefighters raising the flag at Ground Zero. These aren’t just photographs—they’re pieces of collective memory. Everyone may not remember the exact date or location, but they remember the feeling.

I think my fascination with this started back in history class. We were studying the Declaration of Independence and looking at early American documents, the kind that have lasted centuries, and I remember thinking, why do some visuals stick forever while others fade away? It hit me that certain documents, like certain images, have a kind of permanence to them. They don’t just record information, they capture emotion, power, and meaning in a way that survives across generations.

As someone who’s always been interested in media, I kept wondering what made one image or symbol stand out while others disappeared. What gives a visual its staying power? I started noticing patterns: iconic images often appear during moments of deep emotion or change. They might represent unity, struggle, hope, or defiance, universal feelings that connect people no matter where they’re from.

That’s the magic of visual rhetoric, it’s not just what we see, but what we understand and feel when we see it. A great image or document speaks to something beyond its time. It becomes a symbol that people return to again and again when they need to remember, reflect, or even heal.

In a world where we scroll past hundreds of images a day, it’s easy to forget how powerful one picture can be. But the ones that last, the ones that define eras, remind us that sometimes, one frame can carry the weight of history itself.

I still remember the first time I really thought about what clothes say. It was cultural heritage day at school, and everyone was encouraged to wear something that represented their background. I had no idea what to wear at first, jeans and a hoodie felt too plain, but dressing up in traditional clothing felt unfamiliar. Finally, my grandmother insisted I wear a silk jacket she had brought from China years ago. It was red with gold embroidery, slightly too big, and definitely stood out in the sea of T-shirts and sneakers.

At first, I felt self-conscious walking down the hallway, but something changed during lunch. One of my friends asked me about the jacket, where it came from, what the designs meant, and suddenly I found myself telling stories about my family, my grandparents, and the meaning behind the patterns. That jacket became a conversation, a bridge between cultures, and a reminder that clothing isn’t just fabric, it’s communication.

Around the world, what we wear has always been a form of language. Anthropologists often describe clothing as a cultural code, a system of symbols that tells others who we are, what we value, and where we belong. Think of the white robes of Middle Eastern deserts, designed for heat and modesty; the colorful saris of India, each hue carrying social or regional meaning; or the Scottish kilt, which once identified entire clans through patterns called tartans. Every piece of clothing holds history, geography, and identity woven into its threads.

Even modern fashion reflects culture more than we realize. Streetwear, for example, started as a form of rebellion and self-expression in marginalized communities before becoming a global phenomenon. Business suits, once symbols of professionalism and Western success, are now reinterpreted across continents with new colors, fabrics, and cuts that reflect local style and individuality.

Clothing also tells silent stories about belonging and exclusion. Uniforms unite people under a shared identity, students, athletes, doctors, while traditional garments preserve the roots of heritage and resistance. In many Indigenous communities, reviving cultural dress is an act of reclaiming history that colonization tried to erase.

What’s fascinating is that clothing constantly evolves with society. Just as languages adapt to new times, so do our wardrobes. Trends rise and fall, but the idea remains the same: what we wear speaks before we do. It can express pride, status, rebellion, or memory, all without a single word.

When I think back to that school day, I realize my red jacket was more than just clothing, it was a message. It said: This is where I come from, and this is who I am becoming. Whether we’re dressing for tradition, comfort, or creativity, every outfit we put on tells part of our story.

So next time you get dressed, take a moment to think about what your clothes might be saying, because whether you mean to or not, you’re already speaking.

When I first started studying history, the “primary sources” we looked at were things like the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and famous speeches. But now, in my classes, we sometimes analyze political cartoons, and even memes. It sounds funny, but it actually says a lot about how communication has changed. What used to be written in long essays or formal documents is now being boiled down into a single image with bold text and a punchline.

Memes aren’t just jokes anymore. They’ve become one of the fastest ways to spread political messages, especially to younger audiences who might not even realize they’re being influenced. A simple meme on Instagram or TikTok can turn into a viral opinion overnight. Kids as young as twelve are scrolling through their feeds and seeing political ideas disguised as humor or pop culture references. It’s subtle, but it’s powerful.

The truth is, this isn’t entirely new. Politics have always found their way into entertainment. In my AP Gov Class, we learned about the significance of the Even The Wizard of Oz at the time of its release. As we all know, the Wizard of Oz is one of the most famous stories of all time, and is actually acts as a political allegory about economic struggles in the late 1800s, the Yellow Brick Road representing the gold standard, the Scarecrow symbolizing farmers, and the Tin Man representing industrial workers. People have always used stories to reflect political realities. The only difference now is that our stories are shorter, faster, and scrollable.

What makes memes so effective is that they’re emotional. They can take a complicated issue, like taxes, elections, or foreign policy, and shrink it into something funny, shocking, or relatable. That emotional punch makes them stick. The downside, though, is that context often gets lost. When politics are reduced to memes, the facts can get twisted, and people start forming opinions based on half-truths or satire.

If you really think about it, life is a series of milestones that mark where we’ve been and where we’re headed next. Some are small, like getting your first driver’s license or your first job, and others feel monumental, like graduations or big celebrations.

I still remember my middle school graduation. We all sat in rows of folding chairs, dressed a little too formally for a gymnasium that smelled faintly of basketballs and cleaning spray. When they called my name, I walked across the stage, shook hands with the principal, and smiled for a picture that I knew my mom would frame. It felt like the end of something and the beginning of something else.

That’s the thing about rites of passage: they’re not just ceremonies. They’re stories we tell about growing up, moving forward, and becoming someone new.

Anthropologists have studied these rituals for centuries, from tribal initiation ceremonies in Africa to bar mitzvahs in Jewish culture. Each one marks a symbolic transformation: child to adult, student to graduate, single to married.

And though our settings have changed, from open fields to school gyms to virtual livestreams, the meaning remains the same. These moments help us understand that growth isn’t just a personal journey; it’s something shared.