In the internet world, aesthetics have inherited a new title: the suffix of “core.” Commonly associated with style trends, there seems to be a new “core” every few months, a far cry from the long-lived subcultures of the past, such as hippies and punks. However, a new “core” has arrived on the internet, and this time, it has nothing to do with styling clothes. 

Comment sections flood with users begging for more videos labeled “Hope Core,” expressing that they make them cry or help them find faith in the world again. I will admit that these videos have made me sob and have felt like an escape from the dizzying amount of negative news. 

Every video representing this trend usually includes the following factors: A compilation of heartwarming videos, a sped-up version of the song “Evergreen” by Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners, and a sentence of motivation in the center of the screen. These videos aim to invoke joy and, of course, hope, and they’ve gained quite a following. 

These video compilations always highlight beautiful, and often emotional, moments of joy, love, and pride: family members reuniting, tear-jerking award acceptance speeches, or pregnancy announcements. The song brings it together since “Evergreen” emulates triumph in each guitar strum. Hope Core videos emphasize the moments that tug at your heartstrings, the raw moments of humanity. 

This leads me to wonder what this internet phenomenon says about human nature in this age of the internet. According to Forbes Magazine, “Over 60% of TikTok users are comprised of Generation Z.” Our generation grew up alongside social media, which can make the internet almost an extension of our lives. Is “Hope Core” a refreshing sight or a warning sign that Gen Z lacks a relationship with raw humanity? 

Roma Welsh (she/they), Theatre and Performance ‘26, points out what this video trend could say about Gen Z. “I have found them to be deeply profound and a really beautiful emblem of our generation's empathy and use of social media as an art form,” Welsh says. 

With so much access to online content, it can be easy to disconnect from real life. Hope Core videos invoke strong reactions because raw humanity can often be missing from the internet world. We yearn to give it a place in a space our generation spends so much time in. “[I] find Hope Core to be like little pockets of life and art,” Welsh continued. 

We’ve seen the rise of social media and its rapid development, so much so that we are now aware of how to critique and alter it. Hope Core is a reclamation of joy, a reintroduction of humanity to a place that can hold so much fakeness. Alyssa Lazé (they/she/he), WLP ‘26, calls it gritted-teeth optimism: “We don’t necessarily need Hope Core, but it’s been a positivity boost when we’ve been in need of one for several years now.”

Gen Z was hit with a major disruption when the COVID-19 pandemic struck amidst our most formative years. The abrupt solitude led us to turn to the internet for connection. “Hope Core is like resilient optimism; we’ve gotten through worse things alone,” Lazé says.

The people love Hope Core. It’s a breath of fresh air in the middle of doom-scrolling, a moment of joy when it’s needed most. However, the question still stands: if we want to see humanity on the internet, why don’t we seek it out in real life? Forbes Magazine says, “The issue is, we can’t move into the future if we’re using technology as a crutch. It’s supposed to augment human interaction, not replace it entirely.” 

While Hope Core provides that good cathartic cry, it’s puzzling that there’s a collective call to action for even more videos depicting moments of humanity. Technology was created as a tool to better humanity, not replace the very emotional experiences that make us human. Amelia Oei, WLP ‘26, says, “We shouldn’t have to depend on aesthetic compilation videos on TikTok to get happiness in our world.” If you enjoy Hope Core and notice a yearning for more, seek out ways to find those moments with the people around you. Hope isn’t just a “core,” it’s something that can always be found off-screen.