We are currently experiencing a significant crisis in mental health. Many young people, particularly young women, are increasingly suffering from depression, anxiety, and even suicide. In times like these, it’s almost expected that someone will find a way to profit off the situation. There’s a saying: don’t waste a good crisis.
This is where the “sickfluencer” culture comes in.
Many mix genuine physiological issues with questionable spiritual beliefs.
An increasing number of young women are realizing that having an illness can extend beyond just a medical diagnosis. When approached in a certain way, it can morph into an identity, a means of gaining status online, or even a full-time job. Social media platforms tend to favor creators who share their struggles, documenting symptoms, diagnoses, and hospital experiences as if they were entertainment.
It’s common for people to share medical advice online as an immediate reaction to the often frustrating healthcare systems. Over the years, seeking out support during real health crises has been life-saving for many. But the problem arises from the scale and reach of these experiences, amplified by algorithms. Followers create a kind of reverence for these creators, often showering them with praise for surviving a tough day with a manageable condition like irritable bowel syndrome.
In the U.S., creators such as Chronically Jaquie have gathered huge followings on YouTube by sharing the daily realities of living with obscure and challenging health conditions like Ehlers-Danlos syndrome and postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Viewership numbers often soar into the hundreds of thousands as they film everything from intravenous line flushes to emotional hospital admissions, with Jacquie treating privacy as an afterthought.
Over in the UK, TikTok users have been known to transform NHS waiting rooms into settings for short, viral videos, gathering millions of views while showing off their IV drips.
A broken system
The healthcare system itself is often deserving of criticism, with many doctors opting for quick prescriptions rather than exploring deeper issues. When one medication doesn’t work, it’s not uncommon for them to prescribe yet another without truly addressing underlying problems.
This frustrates many patients—particularly younger women who genuinely seek assistance—driving them toward unregulated wellness influencers and self-diagnosis forums.
The alarming part is when these vulnerable individuals choose an unqualified stranger from their screens over a trained medical professional.
Many of these online personalities curate a mix of real diagnoses with outlandish spiritual practices. A typical video might begin with a creator explaining a legitimate autoimmune issue but then transition to selling $80 jars of “energized water” intended to realign various chakras. The shift from patient to alternative healer can happen very rapidly if viewers start to drop off.
Social media platforms encourage fixation on health issues. For instance, a teen could share her sudden allergy to tap water and receive a handful of views, but frame that as an untreatable cosmic affliction, and suddenly, the views skyrocket into the hundreds of thousands. It’s clear that remaining unwell garners attention, while recovery might mean reverting to an ordinary job, disappearing from the spotlight.
This dynamic leads to a troubling cycle where creators curate their health resumes much like a LinkedIn profile. They list rare illnesses in bio sections as if they’re achievements. Each new diagnosis can attract partnerships for mobility aids and wellness products. It becomes evident that audiences often prefer the narrative of ongoing struggle because recovery disrupts the storyline. In a sense, being a perpetual victim has never been more profitable—and some sickfluencers are finding it pays quite well.
These followers end up forming parasocial bonds with creators, treating their ongoing battles as an engaging saga. Fans will fiercely defend their favorite sickfluencers, aggressively dismissing any inquiries into questionable remedies. The comments sections turn into a digital haven where illness is viewed as a form of social currency.
Perverse incentives, twisted rituals
Traditional religious institutions used to harness these inherently human needs, directing them toward a higher power. Today, the internet has replaced that with young influencers sharing dramatic personal stories while connected to IVs, retaining similar levels of devotion along with follower interactions and monetary support.
Medical professionals find themselves debating with patients who trust online personalities over actual lab results. After years of medical training, doctors can find themselves being challenged by a teenager insisting that her concoction of essential oils is the answer to her self-diagnosed rare blood disorder. This isn’t about supporting the medical field blindly; it’s about recognizing the absurdity of our current reality—some would argue it’s the most enlightened time yet.
The long-term fallout from this trend could be detrimental. Many impressionable youths genuinely believe that having a chronic, defining illness is the quickest ticket to fame and financial stability. They are sidestepping traditional life trajectories in favor of adopting a life-long patient identity. They are profoundly unwell, on multiple levels.
Ultimately, people seek connections and meaning; they want ways to make sense of their suffering. The contemporary internet has evolved those basic human desires into a marketplace where staying unwell is monetized. Until social media algorithms change, the sickfluencer trend appears set to prosper, one sponsored hospital video after another.
