Dr. Ecem Saritas stood in Central Park in Manhattan with her fiancé, waiting on emails that would determine the course of their lives — or at least their next few years.
She clutched a pink iPad and refreshed her inbox. A nearby camera captured the pair’s reaction when the emails arrived. It was good news: Both had matched into residency programs, the next step in their journey as doctors. She posted the video on TikTok; in it, Dr. Saritas jumps up and down in the air, squealing with joy as the two hug.
Dr. Saritas, 27, is one of tens of thousands of medical school students and graduates who will find out this month if they matched into residencies, the postgraduate training programs in the United States where doctors learn to specialize in a particular type of medicine, like dermatology or orthopedic surgery. The National Resident Matching Program uses an algorithm to determine where applicants are placed, based on their preferences and those of the residency programs.
Navigating the process can be arduous and hypercompetitive. Many residency hopefuls, like Dr. Saritas, have taken to posting about the experience on social media, documenting the ins and outs of vying for spots and, for the lucky ones, achieving desired placements.
The videos are popular on platforms like TikTok and Instagram, where users seem to delight in celebrating the successes of people they have never met and most likely never will. Preeya Shah, 26, says she gets excited each year when Match Week rolls around on her TikTok feed, a lingering fondness from when her own friends were going through the process.
Think of it like a reality TV show, but instead of a cash prize and bragging rights, competitors are playing for the chance to reach a goal many years in the making. If the genre feels similar to anything, it may be a higher-stakes Bama Rush, the social media trend fueled by young women contending for spots in sororities at the University of Alabama. Their posts have become the subject of much attention — and parasocial voyeurism — in recent years.
“I’m not normally one to cry over strangers on the internet, but there’s something about seeing someone achieve their lifelong dream,” said Ms. Shah, a business consultant for a health care company who lives in Manhattan.
Dr. Saritas said that while she was chiefly focused on matching into a program, she had also been looking forward to recording the moment to share with family and friends, as well as strangers online.
On Friday, she and her fiancé are set to learn exactly which residency programs they will be joining. Many future residents also film videos from those events, dramatically unsealing envelopes and announcing their future workplace, often surrounded by loved ones. There is usually no shortage of tears.
Dr. Sijia Zhang, a 27-year-old psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Francisco, likened that experience to the Sorting Hat, a magic chapeau in “Harry Potter” that determines the house placement of each young wizard at Hogwarts.
It’s also a highly emotional moment, Dr. Zhang said. As a medical student, she watched her fair share of match videos, dreaming of her own “fairy-tale ending.”
Reality, she said, can be a lot messier.
Not everyone matches with a top-choice program, or ends up matching with a program at all, she explained. Euphoric social media videos can leave those disappointed in their own outcomes feeling isolated and alone, Dr. Zhang said.
“It’s easier for students to share a happy video, an exciting video, rather than sharing a video where they’re not receiving the best news,” she said. “That can feel very embarrassing and vulnerable to put out on the internet.”
Dr. Tawfiq Turjman, 24, understands those feelings well. Last year, Dr. Turjman, who lives in Barrow-in-Furness, England, filmed himself opening an email — only to learn that he had not matched. He posted that video, and then several more that showed viewers the mad scramble that happens in the frantic days after not matching.
While some are able to find residencies this way, Dr. Turjman ultimately did not.
He reapplied this year. On Monday he set up his camera, just as he had a year ago. This time, things went the way he had hoped.
The response online has been heartwarming, he said.
“A lot of people who remembered my reaction to my unsuccessful attempt last year, this year, they were very happy to see me make it,” Dr. Turjman said.
Madison Malone Kircher is a Times reporter covering internet culture.
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