Who Gets the TikTok in the Divorce? The Messy Fight Over Valuable Social Media Accounts
When couples who make their living online split up, assessing the accounts’ future value and divvying them up fairly is a drag
When couples who make their living online split up, assessing the accounts’ future value and divvying them up fairly is a drag
When Kat and Mike Stickler filed for divorce, their lawyers had a math problem.
Among the couple’s biggest assets was MikeAndKat, a channel on TikTok and YouTube in which they shared their lives with about four million followers. No one knew how to evenly split MikeAndKat between Mike and Kat.
“The judge was like, ‘what?’” Kat said last month during a podcast interview with Northwestern Mutual. “It’s a whole new terrain.”
Social media pays the bills for millions of Americans. But making a living online is more financially complicated than working a 9-to-5. Influencers need an audience to win advertising deals, and changing what they post risks turning followers away. Couples who showcase their love life online face an existential threat to the family business when they split.
For the lawyers charged with pinning a dollar value to the accounts to divide them fairly, it’s way harder than assessing a house or car. Fortunes can swing depending on which ex has the keys to the account. That was Kat’s argument in fighting for control of the TikTok channel.
“If the TikTok account was left to me, it would keep growing, but if it wasn’t, it would stop,” said Kat, 29, in the podcast interview.
She was right.
Kat got the TikTok, changed that handle to KatStickler and now has almost 10.5 million followers. She has another three million across Instagram, YouTube and Facebook. The channels, where Kat posts skits impersonating her mother and snippets of her everyday life, have earned her enough to buy a condo and become a small business investor.
Mike ended up with the YouTube account, which is now defunct. He now works in sales and declined to comment.
There are 27 million paid content creators in the U.S., and 44% of them say social media is their full-time job, consultant The Keller Advisory Group found.
The big bucks don’t come from views or followers. Brands pay influencers to recommend a product or service to their audience. U.S. advertisers paid content creators $26 billion in 2023, according to Statista.
Once divorce specialists tally up how much money the accounts are raking in, the couple can divide them, or one partner can take more and buy out the other.
But there’s one elusive factor in a digital asset’s value: the account’s potential to keep making money. Both partners have to make a case for their role in that potential. How many pranks did they think of? How many hours did they spend editing videos?
“There’s typically one person in the relationship who is passionate about social media, who’s driving the business,” says Cameron Ajdari, who runs a talent management group with his wife representing some of TikTok’s most followed couples.
It’s not always clear who that person is by the time divorce rolls around. Social media success often evolves quickly, and couples may not be prepared to track finances and labour.
Reza and Puja Khan say everything they’ve done to amass about five million followers on shared channels has been a team effort. They started posting about their wedding in 2020 and, within months, Puja was able to quit her office job. Now, they estimate social media brings in about half a million dollars a year.
Almost all of that goes into a joint bank account. It was a little overwhelming to see their incomes jump so fast, far above what their parents made, say Reza, 28, and Puja, 27. They hired a financial adviser earlier this year, but the idea of dividing their empire has never crossed Puja’s mind.
“This is the first time we’re actually thinking about it,” she says. “If I really went public with a hypothetical split, that could create its own momentum.”
The way influencers rebuild their brands after breaking up can make or break their careers.
If the person got popular by posting memes or makeup tutorials, they probably won’t take much of a financial hit from a divorce. But there could be more damage if a lot of the videos feature family time.
“One could take it over and they just rebrand, which is risky,” says Nina Shayan Depatie, a divorce attorney in Los Angeles who has worked with influencers. “When you’re looking at the valuation, you would have to consider that.”
Ayumi Lashley, 34, started creating social media videos with her husband in 2017. They made it their full-time job in 2020 and the accounts paid for her car and house, she says.
When they divorced in 2023, they both tried to elevate their personal profiles, but their fan base is still attached to a nonexistent relationship. She says she chose not to share much about the split and lost a few thousand followers, while her ex posted more about the divorce.
“A lot of people were very upset with me for not talking about it,” Lashley says. “His career is doing amazing and mine is not.”
Many content creators don’t intend to make videos of their daily outfits forever, even if it isn’t divorce that ends their careers.
“I always joke we’re like NFL players. You get five or 10 good years, but you take one bad hit to the knee and you’re done,” says Vivian Tu, 30, who posts about financial literacy to roughly eight million followers. “You can’t control the algorithms. You can’t control what is in vogue and what’s not.”
Tu says she is preparing for a life away from social media by developing other streams of income, including writing a book and hosting a podcast.
She is also aware of what divorce could do to her business. Tu wrote up a prenuptial agreement that included all her social-media accounts before she got married in June.
“My social media is my résumé,” Tu says. “Why would I allow anybody else to put my work on their résumé?”
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It’s easy to buy clunkers when you’re caught up in the moment. But regrettable purchases aren’t inevitable.
Trying to buy just the right souvenir on a trip is a risky business. You can wind up with a lifetime treasure—or an albatross you feel stuck with forever.
Consider the giant painting of a chicken flying out of Cuba that has been hanging over our couch in Palos Verdes, Calif., for the past 15 years. Buying it cheaply seemed to make sense when we were in Havana, since my husband’s family had fled the country after the revolution.
But the flying chicken just didn’t seem as, well, poignant by the time we returned home and hung the 4-by-7-foot painting. No guest has ever said a word about it. “I can’t help you with the chicken,” an art dealer told me long ago when I asked for help in selling it.
So, how do you find the right souvenir? Or is there even any such thing?
For many people, the answer to the second question is an unqualified “No,” and they have stopped trying. “Souvenirs never look as enticing or beautiful as they did at the time of purchase once you get them home,” warns Patricia Schultz, the author of “1,000 Places to See Before You Die.”
After collecting rugs on her trips, then Christmas ornaments, before running out of room at home for both, Schultz says, “I have gone cold turkey. I collect memories.”
But for others, surrendering just won’t do. “It’s intrinsic when people travel that they wind up bringing a keepsake of the journey,” says Rolf Potts, the author of “Souvenir,” a book that traces the history of travel souvenirs back to the earliest recorded journeys.
“It can be a way to show off,” he says. “Much like the envy-inducing travel posts on Instagram.” But for many people, he says, “It’s proof you were there, not only to show other people but also for yourself.”
For those who lean in this direction, there are ways to help avoid regrets. Tara Button , founder of the Buy Me Once website, and the author of “A Life Less Throwaway: The Lost Art of Buying for Life,” suggests focusing on practical items that fit your lifestyle and double as mementos.
As an example, she once bought a “very affordable” baby blanket made from alpaca fiber on a trip to Peru and now uses it every day. The blanket not only reminds her of “the time pre-children when I was traveling,” she says. “It goes over my 2-year-old son every night. It’s always soft and always gorgeous.”
She has a friend who collects one cup from each destination. “Those are perfect memory keepers,” she says. “A small item that is used every day.”
One obstacle to finding the right souvenir is that it can be hard to think practically when you are swept up in the excitement of a new culture. Consider the Burmese puppet, 15 inches tall, that has spent about two decades in the closet of Liz Einbinder , head of public relations for Backroads, an adventure-tour company.
“We saw a lot of puppets everywhere and just got caught up in all of the Burmese art and culture,” she says. Now she wonders, “Why did I bring this back? It sits in the back of my closet and I can’t seem to get rid of it. It creeps me out when I see it.”
When that buying urge sweeps over you, Button and other travel experts suggest pausing to consider your lifestyle, taste, needs, and the scale of your home—you’re going back to the reality of your everyday life, after all.
But that doesn’t necessarily mean being entirely practical. Einbinder collects miniatures, mostly miniature houses, from every country, and has more than a hundred. Most are in storage, but she keeps a little London bus and a little Egyptian pyramid on her desk. For her, souvenirs aren’t just about memories, they’re also about the hunt. “It gives me something to search for” on each trip, she says. “That’s half the fun.”
Another way travelers often go wrong is by giving in to pressure, or at least persistence, from salespeople.
When Kimba Hills, an interior designer, went to Morocco, she hired a guide who took her to a rug store in Fez, where the dealers delivered a whirlwind sales pitch while serving tea. She wound up buying a $4,000 flat-weave Turkish rug, measuring about 13 feet by 9 feet.
“No one in my group could believe I got seduced,” she says.
When the rug finally arrived at her home in Santa Monica, “It smelled like cow dung,” she says. Washing the rug was going to change the color.
When she called the dealer in Fez and demanded her money back, he refused, offering to send her a different rug instead. “We got into a yelling match,” says Hills. “All my skills went out the window.”
Looking back, she says, “You are in a buying mode because you are there and feel like you should buy something.” On a recent trip to Mexico, she bought nothing, explaining, “I’m wiser.”
Spontaneity can cut both ways. There’s the chicken painting. But waiting for inspiration to strike, rather than planning to go home with a souvenir, can still help.
Henry Zankov, a sweater designer, says that when he travels, he explores his destinations with the idea that he won’t buy anything unless he comes across something he loves. He still buys plenty, but says “I don’t have regrets.” At his home in Brooklyn, he has ceramics, vases and glassware from shops he found randomly in Spain, Greece, and Italy. “I buy what I have to have,” he says.
There are times he doesn’t find anything. “So I just give up,” he says. “It’s OK.”
Some souvenirs do become the treasure of a lifetime.
Annie Lucas , the co-owner of MIR, which offers tours to less-traveled destinations, became captivated by a mirror on a trip to Morocco. It was made with hand-pounded silver and pieces of camel bones.
She went back to the store three or four times, debating the cost and whether she would regret it once she got home. It was heavy and measured 24 inches by 40 inches.
“That was 15 years ago, and I still treasure it,” she says. “If I had to get out of my house and had only five minutes to pack, I would grab that off the wall.”
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Just 55 minutes from Sydney, make this your creative getaway located in the majestic Hawkesbury region.