How LinkedIn Found Its Social Platform Era

A few months ago, I opened my LinkedIn account to stalk an old colleague. What I saw surprised me:

• A video interview with Lisa Rinna, the “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” star, giving career advice

• A day-in-the-life video of a man’s morning commute, sponsored by a podcast company

• A writer ranting about A.I.

• A founder of a data platform raving about A.I.

• A selfie from a stranger announcing that his father had died

I put stalking to the side as a different thought arose: Was LinkedIn getting more interesting?

The platform began in 2003 with the mission of “connecting the world’s professionals.” In the years since, users have relied on it to network, stay up-to-date with job listings and share their résumés. As on other social networking sites, users could post thoughts, links and photos, though the focus was decidedly on careers.

That hasn’t changed, at least according to the people who help run the site. LinkedIn is not trying to be a “normal social media network,” said Daniel Roth, its editor in chief. “The idea is: help people connect to economic opportunity.”

LinkedIn would not disclose the number of users who are active monthly, unlike some social media platforms. But a 2026 survey by Statista, a market data and research company, reported that 18 percent of about 60,000 people used the site regularly — far below the number of regular users on Instagram but on par with Reddit.

Still, browsing LinkedIn today can turn up the kind of videos, sponsored content and memes reminiscent of other media platforms. Has all this expanded its appeal, or undermined its central mission?

Either way, the platform is inarguably huge; since 2020 it has doubled its membership to over 1.3 billion users, and has raised its revenue to more than $19 billion annually, the site said. Video content is growing on the site, and 18- to 29-year-olds are its fastest growing demographic.

“Few places are structured around the ‘official life story’ the way that LinkedIn is,” said Bernie Hogan, an associate professor at the Oxford Internet Institute, adding that the site is a “welcome environment” for people who are highly focused on their careers. (Some users say the site’s lack of anonymity distinguishes it from other parts of the internet. Over 100 million users are now verified.)

Now, celebrities, athletes and other content creators are leaning into their LinkedIn presence, and the usual business executives and “thought leaders” more associated with it are getting more personal. One top executive at Blackstone even posts while jogging.

During a recent book campaign, Ms. Rinna announced that she was creating a LinkedIn account because “hustle is a lifestyle.” In recent years, athletes like Kevin Durant and Stephen Curry have begun to visibly push their business endeavors, joining entertainer-slash-entrepreneurs like Snoop Dogg and Paris Hilton. (LinkedIn has said that it works with high-profile users to help shape their content, and pays some users to market LinkedIn on the site and other platforms.)

Influencers who have built followings on LinkedIn, as on other social media sites, are brokering lucrative deals to market products like A.I. tools and jets. Others, tired of tech-y jargon and performative professionalism, hope to bring a more intimate quality to the site. The resulting hodgepodge suggests another question: If the central mission is to boost your career, can you be authentic on LinkedIn?

A New Wave

Two years ago, Brooke Sweedar, a 30-year-old based in Baton Rouge, La., wanted to pivot from her job in recruiting to become a software engineer. She had no industry connections, so she fired up an inactive LinkedIn account to network and share her coding insights.

“I had this perception that LinkedIn was very stuffy, you know, very corporate,” Ms. Sweedar said. “And I kind of found myself injecting a lot of my real personality.”

Ms. Sweedar brands herself as the “tech baddie,” and shares selfies, memes and cat videos between jokes about coding. “I show up like the multifaceted human being that I am,” she said, adding that she hoped it gave others permission to do the same.

That approach has gained her job interviews, almost 30,000 followers and even, she said, offers from tech companies like Notion to post about their products.

“We all have to make a living and pay our bills,” she said. “And it’s really, really hard to attract people when you sound like a corporate drone.”

Many influencers on LinkedIn have built niches on corporate-friendly topics like mastering A.I., business-to-business marketing and office politics. Others share health advice, writing tips and satirical videos that might look more at home on TikTok. Those like Ms. Sweedar who amass a following can turn being a LinkedIn influencer into a full-time career. The number of such creators has surged, the site said.

LinkedIn has aggressively pursued influencers and creators, said Brooke Erin Duffy, an associate professor of communication at Cornell University. But, she added, “what does it mean for the rest of us who are living, working and spending our time in these sites where everything we see has this ethos of self promotion?”

“Like every brand, we pay creators as part of our marketing efforts, and that content shows up on LinkedIn and other platforms,” a spokeswoman said.

Optimizing the ‘Cringe’

Amid all these shifts, trying to stand out on LinkedIn can backfire.

There’s the colloquial language of the site itself: Rapid line breaks, corporate lingo and storytelling have fused into a genre some have labeled “bro-etry” or “LinkedIn-ese.” Alongside that, critics have derided the inappropriate exploitation of personal events for professional gain — fodder for Reddit boards like LinkedIn Lunatics. And users have gone viral for unintended reasons, including a chief executive who was widely criticized as tone-deaf for posting a teary-eyed selfie after staff layoffs.

“It’s this dystopian, rah-rah-rah, back-patting circle that encourages this really inauthentic behavior,” said John Hickey, a creative director who runs “Best of LinkedIn,” an account mocking posts. The site, he acknowledged, was “unparalleled” for networking. “It’s just the extra 40 percent noise on top that I can’t stand,” he said, “and I think a lot of people can’t stand.”

“The problem is sincerity,” Dr. Hogan said, adding that people’s intentions were compromised under the eye of potential employers or clients. “That withers people, because if you can’t be sincere, then you can’t fully understand other people’s intentions.”

Juliana Chan, a founder of a branding business in Singapore, has translated LinkedIn-ese on her account, and said her content had helped her find clients and collaborators. “People who like what you’re saying will not find you cringe,” she added.

Elsewhere, unconventional professionals are optimizing that cringe. Ken Cheng, a comedian based in London with 220,000 followers on LinkedIn, has found a niche parodying overly devoted corporate types. His bio declares, with a smiley face, that he wants to “connect with you, emotionally.”

He was struck by the tension people feel between their dislike of workplace politics and their sense that participation was essential to survive. “It’s quite weird just seeing everyone become this corporate shell in order to operate in this world,” he said.

As he has gained popularity, some companies have paid Mr. Cheng to poke fun at them on LinkedIn for publicity, or have hired him to perform at conferences. He charges up to $4,000 for a post.

‘Brands Are Getting It’

Power users of the site, even self-deprecating ones like Mr. Cheng, are still relatively rare. Many people prefer to lurk, stepping in only to share job updates or congratulate colleagues on promotions.

The site’s most discussed topics, according to internal data, may still sound more familiar in conference rooms than on social media: A.I.’s place in work, leadership development, the start-up founder journey, and crypto trends.

“I think LinkedIn is just getting started because they have not prioritized it as a social platform until very recently,” said Shama Hyder, a Miami-based founder of a marketing agency who shares her business insights to some 672,000 followers.

Ms. Hyder describers herself as a longtime “power-user-slash-thought-leader” of the site and believes users are more likely to engage with the profiles of people they find credible than they are the profiles of brands. She makes paid content for sponsors on the platform — with her rates beginning at $20,000 for one post — and said she had worked with brands like Adobe.

“Brands are getting it,” she said. “They’re waking up to this.”

LinkedIn is adding even more ways for influencers to make money, and has expanded its own “paid creator partnerships,” the site said. That wave, who use the hashtag #LinkedInpartners, included Fernando Mendoza, a football player who celebrated being the first overall pick for the 2026 N.F.L. draft with a LinkedIn post.

Dr. Hogan, however, is skeptical that this broadening engagement will keep audiences on LinkedIn long-term. “It will work in the short term until people get fatigue” he said.

Power-users like Ms. Hyder also do not want LinkedIn to lose its professional utility. “I think they will lose folks if they continue to have a lot of the same content that you can find on other platforms,” she said.

After so many calls with influencers, I couldn’t stop dwelling on my LinkedIn presence. I took the advice of some coaches and:

• Added a banner image to my profile

• Shared a vulnerable story about my past

• Reposted a senior editor

• Let myself use exclamation marks and an emoji!!

Only a few people liked my posts, including a friend and a former teacher. But I could see that more users were engaging with my profile each week; the site suggested I keep commenting and posting for even more reach.

I reached back out to Mr. Cheng, the comedian, who was recently paid to host a marketing conference. “I’ve become the thing I seek to destroy,” Mr. Cheng said, jokingly. Since our last conversation, he had raised his rates, he said, and expected to raise them again.

Matt Yan contributed reporting.