On Dan Rodo’s art TikTok account, the Canadian content creator racked up 1.8 million followers posting videos of himself 3-D printing Air Jordans, crafting a baseball bat out of bubble gum and resin, and tufting a rug with the PlayStation logo. The latter was his most popular clip, with more than 47.1 million views.
In the United States, a viral video like that could net its creator anywhere from a couple hundred to several thousand dollars, paid out by TikTok itself. But Mr. Rodo had no big cheque to cash: The platform doesn’t compensate Canadian creators.
At the end of 2022, he moved to Austin, Tex., and set up a new TikTok account to take advantage of the platform’s Creator Rewards Program, which is also offered in a handful of other countries. Earnings are based on factors including originality, the number of likes, comments and shares, and how many viewing minutes a creator brings in. TikTok has not said if or when it will introduce the fund to Canada.
Dan Rodo moved from Toronto to Austin, Tex., in hopes he could take advantage of TikTok's Creator Rewards Program.Dan Rogo/Supplied
”Some of my videos had 20 million views and I never saw a dime for it,” Mr. Rodo said of his @danocracy account. “I would look at my American counterparts and these guys were sustaining a healthy living from TikTok. I got to the point where I was like, if I want to continue doing this, I need to be able to make money through views. So I decided to make the leap.”
The global content creator industry is a US$24-billion ecosystem of nano, micro and macro influencers who monetize their online followings through brand partnerships, shared ad revenue, creator programs, paid subscriptions and gifts. In Canada, however, policies of both social-media companies and the government make it more difficult for creators to earn money. As a result, many of the country’s “macro” influencers – defined by having more than one million followers – say they need to leave to break through to the next level.
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Similar to the way many Canadian actors, musicians and artists experience an omnipresent pull toward Los Angeles and New York, content creators often feel the alluring promise of working in the U.S.: more fame, more opportunities for crossover into other industries and more brands with deeper pockets.
“We’ve never as a country done a really great job of harbouring that talent,” said Joe Gagliese, co-founder of Viral Nation, a Toronto-based influencer talent agency. For homegrown examples, he points to YouTube content creators the Rush Fam, who are now in Miami; TikToker KallMeKris, who now resides in Texas; and beauty influencer Katie Fang, who now lives in New York.
In Canada, content creators on TikTok must rely on brand partnerships to make money. (It’s the same for those on Instagram, which also doesn’t offer Canadians ad revenue sharing or creator funds that pay based on views.)
But even those deals are significantly smaller here than they are in the U.S., meaning influencers with large audiences can quickly hit a financial ceiling, said Sara Koonar, president and founder of Platform Media, a Toronto-based marketing firm. If, for example, Coca-Cola had a $1-million marketing budget for influencers, only around $100,000 would be allocated for Canada, with the rest going to the U.S., she explains.
And the irony is that success can be a double-edged sword.
A view of the TikTok offices in Toronto, on Dec. 4, 2024.Chris Young/The Canadian Press
“Once you reach a million followers and above, it costs a lot of money to work with you,” Ms. Koonar said. Canadian creators who have that kind of reach tend to have a lot of international followers, which is less appealing and more expensive to brands who want to target a Canadian audience. Those creators, she added, “tend to find that they cannot find advertising opportunities in Canada, so they move to the U.S.”
On top of all these challenges is the fact that social media has always been an industry rife with uncertainty. Influencers exist at the whims of algorithms, trends and the shifting priorities of platforms. One day strangers dancing to Charli XCX songs are heavily featured; the next baby pygmy hippos are all the rage.
Naomi Leanage moved to Los Angeles from Toronto last fall and has found the transition difficult.Naomi Leanage/Supplied
In Canada, this sense of overall uncertainty was heightened in November when the federal government ordered TikTok to cease its Canadian business, citing specific national-security risks related to parent company ByteDance’s operations in Canada. On Dec. 5, TikTok filed documents in Federal Court in Vancouver challenging the directive.
The order is part of a larger push by Ottawa to legislate big tech companies. Bill C-11, the Online Streaming Act, will make YouTube and streaming platforms such as Netflix and Disney+ promote Canadian content. YouTuber J.J. McCullough and others have argued this could actually make it more difficult for Canadians to be discovered, if the CRTC determines their content isn’t overtly Canadian enough. Bill C-18, the Online News Act, compelled Google and social-media platforms to strike deals with news organizations, resulting in Meta blocking news links on Instagram and Facebook.
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Canada simply hasn’t offered content creators enough incentive to stay, Mr. Gagliese says. He points to ways Ottawa and provincial governments support other creative industries, such as with tax credits for film and TV productions. But he also believes the problem is existential. “We need to recognize that this is not a bunch of kids in their basement playing Call of Duty or making dance videos,” he said. “These are folks who are becoming the next generation of media and we have them.”
The United States is facing its own fair share of social-media uncertainty: TikTok could be banned as of Jan. 19 unless the U.S. Supreme Court blocks the law on the basis of free speech (the court will hear arguments on Jan. 10) or its Chinese owner ByteDance divests. But for many Canadian content creators, the U.S. remains the end goal.
Still, even for those who make the move down south, the shift isn’t always easy.
Naomi Leanage moved to Los Angeles from Toronto last fall and has found the transition challenging, an experience she’s documenting on her TikTok and Instagram accounts. She’s had to start over by building relationships with new PR agencies and American brands.
“I was a big fish in a small pond, and here I’m a tiny fish in a really big pond,” she said.
When Mr. Rodo made the move, he found out he was still ineligible for TikTok’s creator fund because his account was started in Canada. He pivoted and created a new one, which in its first year gained more than one million followers. Called Shot & Forgot, it features videos of him buying old film rolls at auctions, developing the prints and finding the original owners. (He still posts occasionally to @danocracy, so it doesn’t fall out of favour with the TikTok algorithm.)
When Dan Rodo made the move, he found out he was still ineligible for TikTok’s creator fund because his account was started in Canada. He pivoted and created a new one, Shot & Forgot.Dan Rogo/Supplied
Despite his success, the amount of money he makes isn’t consistent. Some months he earns more than US$10,000 from TikTok; others, just US$300. Financially, the move hasn’t paid off yet. But the opportunities that have come with it – including collaborating with his childhood hero Tony Hawk to recreate a 1965 photo of a mystery skateboarder – has made it worth it.
“This industry changes on a weekly basis, and you could be riding a high of good views and good algorithms, and it can change in one week and you’re not even sure why,” Mr. Rodo says. “It is so volatile. But I’m choosing to play the game and I accept that’s what the rules are.”