When I scroll through Instagram reels, I often recognize the same joke or format being recycled by numerous users putting their own spin on it. Recently, my feed has started showing me clip after clip of the same trope: the camera alternates between two people who share some sort of connection — on the basis of religion, race or friendship — telling the camera about their stereotypical traits or habits and acting them out. I saw a reel of two East Asian girls alternating in front of the camera saying, “We’re ABGs [Asian Baby Girls]: we’re always craving boba” and “We’re ABGs: wait, where’s my vape?”

Jokes might appear in our daily language or be referenced in order to support the delivery of another joke. For example: “You never see two pretty best friends in the same relationship stage.” It is, of course, completely possible to get through a conversation without a single reference to TikToks or reels. But we college students spend time with friends and classmates in various settings. We inevitably run into these jokes, which have become a universally relatable point of humor for people who may not know each other very well. Social media’s reach has allowed inside jokes to be shared across the globe, spread by word of millions of mouths. 

I’m not trying to condemn this phenomenon. It’s only natural to seek kinship and membership within a social group. And viral jokes are the latest chapter in humor’s illustrious history. It’s a tradition that dates back to radios, television, newspapers, village rumor mills and traveling traders or entertainers. But today’s scope of virality is unmatched. Am I laughing at this joke because I think it’s funny, or because millions of people have laughed at the same joke?

These two ideas are not mutually exclusive. Although humor is subjective, there is a certain science to it. Irony, sarcasm or silliness are typical components of a funny joke. I’m more concerned with the jokes that make up “Gen Z humor.” 

What I have noticed about Gen-Z jokes is that many people often encounter the punchline before the joke’s set-up. Before I saw the video of the young man saying, “I ain’t never seen two pretty best friends,” I came across multiple references to it in person and on social media. I was confused by it until I received an explanation. And I still don’t find it funny. 

This has been my experience for a lot of viral jokes, like the “rizz” face and “you’re telling me a shrimp fried this rice.” And if I’m interpreting the search engine “most commonly searched” topics correctly, then I’m not alone. There are many who are confused by the latest trending joke and have had to look it up or ask in the comments, “Explain please,” “I don’t get it.” After we get the joke, some of us go on to spread it by referencing it in person or repeating it online, prompting a cycle that ensures more people are laughing at the same joke. But how many people actually found it funny in the first place?

While participating in viral trends can be fun and community-building, there is value in being more intuitive with our humor. I’m not trying to say I’m too cool to laugh at what my friends are laughing at — one of the most wonderful things about laughter is that there is no limit to what can kindle it. If I find a viral joke funny, I will laugh and share my enjoyment with those around me. However, some of my fondest memories are of cracking up with my friends at nonsensical things that we keep building on, such as an extreme mispronunciation or an awkward moment in class, and carrying forward funny moments until they become our own established inside joke. Even just making eye contact with my friend during certain situations and knowing we’re thinking the exact same thing is enough to make me smile. I will always treasure the nights my roommate and I spent staying up until 4 a.m., laughing until the girl on the other side of the fire alarm door finally knocked on the wall for some peace. 

I want to be more honest with myself with what I do laugh at; I want my sense of humor to come from authentic amusement instead of laughing at the latest, ultra-relatable joke. We can be more original; we can find a delight in the unexpected and enrich our happiness that much more.

BIANCA NAM is a senior in Saybrook College. Her column “Dear Woman” traverses contemporary feminist, progressive issues. She can be reached at hyerim.nam@yale.edu.