Backup Account will always be brief—not 280 characters brief, but brief as in each edition will focus on one TikTok only. Paid subscribers thank you for your support, new perks below. Follow me on IG or TT for antics.
One of the scariest moments of my life was also comically faggy. It happened in broad daylight when three of my roommates and I were held up at gunpoint. The robbers? Two kids so young the gun was half their size. It was the first time I'd seen a handgun up close, it shakily being pointed directly into my eyes. My 19-year-old adrenaline kicked in: “You want my money, you want my wallet, here!” I brandished my pink Barbie™ wallet and threw it, along with a $5 bill, on the ground in front of me. Barbie™ looked up from the concrete at the life or death situation totally unfazed - this plastic diva was there to protect us.
If you have been following my IG stories then you might have already guessed what this week’s TikTok will be about. No, Barbie™ is not featured, but in the War on Floptropica, she surely has a role.
→ → Watch this week’s TikTok (watch via TikTok):
Wars don’t ever make sense so if you’re confused by the War on Floptropica, don’t fret. I too have more questions than answers. Is this really what queer military action looks like? Can we actually make bombs explode in pink? How does Texas funeral home director Deborah Williams feel about being named President of the first queer nation? What even is Floptropica?
To understand Floptropica you first must understand why queer TikToker’s banded together to buy an island and emigrate there. Bound together by a shared disdain for Andrew Tate (the Trump of TikTok) - queer and FLINTA users started to identify themselves as Flops and calling anti-queer patriarchy-obsessed Tate followers as Da Boyzz. FlopTokers started making videos pushing back on the hate they were receiving from Da Boyzz. One user found a real island for sale and suggested the Flop community buy it and move there - and voila, the island of Floptropica was born. Accounts and websites started popping up like “floptokuntoldstories” and “floptropicagov”. Although the chronology of events can be disorienting, the continuity is surprisingly fluid; thousands of users collaboratively scripting elections, diplomacy, transportation lines, school systems, and even reporting on the events of two wars (the first one, also fought against Da Boyzz, was named the Badussy war).
There is just too much gold to unpack here, from the history of queers fighting in straight wars, to the orgins of leather fetish and gay war service, to the civic-leaning Twitter page dedicated to Lady Gaga’s Chromatica album. But I promised to keep Backup Account short so I’m just gonna focus on one thing: the Barbie wallet that saved my life that day.
Somewhere along the scrolling, Flops voted in a TikTok-myth of a woman named Jiafei as Military General of Floptropica. Jiafei is actually the mash-up of two Chinese K-Pop stars Meng Ja & Wang Feiei from a girl group called MISS A. Their likenesses were mercilessly copied across Asian TikTok bot accounts. She became a digitally hijacked spokesperson for random AliBaba products and hypersexual bait videos, so the net gave this doll a new name: Jiafei. Jiafei was TikTok Barbie.
Although the Floptropica worldbuilding is a bit all over the place and the product of angsty young dreamers, one theme remains consistent: independent sexy women rule. For Floptok, Jiafei is the first TikTok diva icon, a reference to the time when TikTok only existed in Asia. For me, she represents an age old alliance between queers and sex icons, fearless women that threaten the patriarchy and weaponize their sex appeal. Floptok is reclaiming Jiafei, reseating her power, hell even worshipping her. They see the strength in her that all the men who made her into a capitalistic object sought to destroy. The same goes for all the actresses cast in the Floptropica story, the anti-heroines that queer people cheered for, long after the men have stopped.