Arizona-based content creator Junior (who goes by @RealJnyemah on TikTok) considers himself a “rizzard”. He started posting videos approaching women on the street in 2021, telling them he likes them and saying they look “sparkling like sparkling water”, to show off his confidence – or, in other words, rizz. “I’ve always been a social person, so talking to strangers wasn’t ever necessarily a challenge,” he says. “But I have friends who have issues with communicating, so I wanted to show people how it’s done.” Junior is just one of the many creators who fall under the category of “rizz artists”. The overwhelmingly straight male space has turned cold-approaching (striking up a conversation with a stranger) into a bizarre and potentially dangerous numbers game, driven by views on their videos and by how many contact details they can gather in one day. 

The term “rizz” was popularised by Twitch streamer Kai Cenat in 2022. “Rizz is when you’re talking to a girl, and at first, shit is not going your way,” he said during an episode of No Jumper. “It’s looking bad for you, until you spit game and you’re rizzing them up to where shit starts to go your way.” Across social media today, the word has come to encapsulate a formidable appeal to women that some men have and others are looking to cultivate: an antidote to the male loneliness epidemic. Since 1990, the share of men who lack a single close friend has quintupled to 15 per cent, according to a 2021 study by the Survey Center on American Life, making content from men who claim to teach social skills for “infield interactions” immensely popular in recent years (especially for teenage boys). Only the “social skills” in question usually come from the likes of Andrew Tate’s manosphere and often encourage tactics that borderline on harassment, spewing out conservative gender norms and adding fuel to the growing gender divide online. 

Some self-confessed “rizz artists” are seen as having more charisma than others. Usually, this is determined by their “success rate” with women (who may be giving out their numbers just to end the conversations) or how willing they are to attempt countless cold approach methods for views. Diego Day (or the “rizz god”) has gained over one million followers on TikTok by asking people to rate him out of ten or laying next to women relaxing alone in the park, and Kyle Froonjian (or “Coach Kyle”) has built a following of almost half a million on YouTube by promising to teach men how to make women attracted to you in five minutes and then “escalate” or “close”. Of course, the entire category is rife with misogyny, including rating women’s attractiveness and projecting a “dominant masculine frame” to “educate” women on how to submit and treat men. 

When filming a cold approach video, Junior says he steers clear of anyone with a ring on their finger, women who seem to be having a bad day, and people who are “overly emotional”. “It can be labelled as harassment sometimes,” he says. On TikTok, he calls himself a “short king leader”, wanting to inspire other shorter men to not let their height hold them back. Despite speaking to hundreds of women and considering the “gold medal” as being getting their number, he says he’s only spoken to one or two of them from his endeavours and hasn’t “full-on dated” any. “It is possible though,” he says. “I’ve seen it happen.” Only “heightmaxxing” creator Frankie Meki says he knows of some creators who pay the women in their videos to just speak to them. “Rizz artists make it seem like numbers are the only thing that really matters,” he says. “But it doesn’t lead to a real connection.” 

In an interview with Complex earlier this year, Youtuber Duke Dennis says his fans often approach him in public to ask him to teach them “how to rizz”. “I think that’s the craziest question you can ask,” he said. Dennis even went as far as to say that Kai Cenat “ruined a generation” with the word. And yet, men attempting (sometimes extremely unsuccessfully) to teach younger boys how to speak to women is nothing new. In the 90s and 00s, “pick-up artists” were all the rage, promoting similarly creepy and sexist strategies. The sheer power of social media, however, means the new generation of pick-up or rizz artists today can reach even larger audiences. The nature of virality also means more extreme behaviour is not only tolerated but encouraged, making women potentially feel unsafe in person for the sake of male entertainment. “A lot of videos do well because they are more reactionary,” says Meki. “But men are now scared to speak to women, so when they see someone do it successfully, it intrigues them.” 

The idea that young men should get outside and socialise with people in person is, in itself, good advice. “A lot of gym culture today is about getting heartbroken and then just focusing on yourself,” says Meki. “But, when you do that, there’s not really another side where you can go back to who you were before and make time for socialising.” Unfortunately, despite giving the illusion of being dating advice, rizz artists aren’t actually teaching young men how to speak to women but how to turn women’s discomfort into views. That’s why Meki encourages his followers to join a run club or community group instead. “A club or that type of environment is more likely to be a place for a genuine connection because you have a frequent spot to meet up,” he says. When you’re there, Meki says it is still worth striking up the courage for a (non-creepy) “cold approach”. Just don’t set up your tripod and post the conversation under #RizzArtist or #Rizzard while you’re at it.