The Rise—and Risk—of “Pity Marketing”
If you’re on TikTok or watching Reels on Instagram or Facebook, you’ve likely seen it. A lonely restaurant with empty tables. A book signing with no line. A warehouse full of unsold products. The voiceover is emotional and tugs at your heartstrings: “We’re really struggling—can you help?”
This is pity marketing, which can also be called “sympathy marketing” or perhaps more accurately, “emotional blackmail.”
Pity marketing isn’t new, but its popularity has exploded in recent years thanks to Reels and TikTok videos and algorithms that reward emotional, clickbait content. For those who use it, the pitch isn’t “buy this because it’s great,” but “buy this because I’m hurting.”
Let’s be clear: we’re not talking about the genuinely struggling entrepreneur who posts an honest video asking for help. And we’re definitely not talking about someone’s nephew posting a heartfelt video to drum up business for his aunt’s struggling bakery. That kind of community-driven support is real, important, and often inspiring. It can also help business owners who just haven’t quite figured out how to talk about their excellent product or service get something going.
What we’re talking about is the rise of manufactured hardship. Where creators, influencers, or even businesses paint a picture of despair—not because they’re struggling, but because they know it gets clicks. It’s less about connection and more about conversion.
As journalist Sarah Manavis put it in the New Statesman, “Who wants to receive sympathy by looking pathetic? But on social media, such abjection is no longer seen as undesirable: pity is a lucrative route to engagement and attention.”
Take this example. It’s sad – this girl just wants her dad’s Hello Kitty blanket company to succeed, but everyone says they’re ugly, and he should just quit.
If you look a little closer at her other posts, you’ll notice her “dad” is a different person in every video – and he never seems to be sewing the product they purport to sell.
It’s easy to see why this tactic tempts creators. Pity marketing often leads to a short-term bump in views, engagement, and even sales. But the returns rarely last. When audiences catch on—or worse, feel manipulated—they stop engaging. Not just with that creator, but sometimes with everyone.
Our Hello Kitty blanket example is pretty egregious and obvious, but others aren’t as easy to spot.
That’s the long-term danger. Pity marketing breeds mistrust. And in a landscape already flooded with performative authenticity, trust is hard-won and easily lost.
So what’s the better path?
Tell a true story and build an authentic connection. It’s often harder and takes more time, but it’s a strategy built on a lasting foundation rather than short-term gains.