One morning in January, Gracie Nielson was scrolling TikTok when she discovered something that made her skin crawl.

The fashion, lifestyle, and beauty influencer with over 600,000 followers noticed a comment on one of her videos that directed her to a clip of a woman wearing low-slung blue jeans and a yellow crop top. Her face didn't resemble Nielson's, but the exact same outfit was hanging in Nielson's closet, and even the woman's body struck a familiar pose. Nielson realized it was a shot-for-shot replica of a video she'd posted months prior, down to the backdrop — a corner of Nielson's home in California. Intrigue quickly devolved into unease.

"That's so crazy. This is my house. This is my body, just with somebody else's face," Nielson recalled thinking. "It's just a really uncomfortable feeling."

The other woman in question may not be a woman at all, but a digital echo: Sienna Rose, aka @siennarosely, describes herself as a neo-soul singer who has over 1.5 million monthly listeners on Spotify. Her TikTok page is filled with uncanny videos where the star smiles and vamps — but never talks — to the camera. Though she's been plagued by accusations that she's AI-generated, Rose has never performed live; AI detection tools used by the streaming service Deezer have flagged Rose's music as AI-generated. Emails I sent to the address listed in Rose's TikTok bio went unanswered.

It's Nielson's job to make videos, so she made another TikTok to share her reaction to the discovery. "I'm so scared, you guys," she said, comparing her video to Rose's since-deleted one. The TikTok quickly went viral, amassing over 2.4 million views to date — confirmation that Nielson's shock had reverberated far beyond her usual audience.

"I even had a friend text me that day, and she was like, 'I did not know Sienna Rose was AI,'" Nielson said. "She's like, 'I have listened to her music before, completely not knowing that this is not a real person.'"

AI influencers are here, and if Nielson's case is any indication, you may not have even noticed. As artificial intelligence becomes increasingly sophisticated and accessible to the average person, employers, companies, and brands have begun investing in the technology to reduce labor costs. Number-crunchers aren't the only ones who are being replaced — creatives are feeling the heat, too. Now, there's AI music on the Billboard charts, AI used in Oscar-winning movies, and, of course, AI all over our social media feeds.

Just as influencers once stormed the internet — harnessing the then-new technology of social media to draw eyeballs, score paid sponsorships, and rake in advertising dollars previously reserved for traditional celebrities — digital avatars are now poised to flood the same market.

Ally Rooker, a part-time content creator with nearly 190,000 followers on TikTok, described having AI imitate real-life influencers to hawk products as nothing short of labor-busting.

"When I see influencers promoting generative AI video tools, I'm like, 'You don't understand the reason that you have a career,'" Rooker told Business Insider. "You don't understand how fragile what you're doing is, and how fragile your revenue is. Because you're promoting your replacement."

The multibillion-dollar creator economy was built on aspirational influencers who can promise their followers that a better life — or at least clearer skin, or a life-changing haircut, or a dream vacation — is just a swipe away. So what happens when a new crop of competitors is aspiration, personified: influencers who don't suffer from hormonal acne, bed head, or debilitating jet lag? Friendly, almost-human faces who don't need to eat, sleep, or even get paid?

AI influencers are already making money from brand deals

In a social media landscape where real people already use beauty filters and Photoshop, brands are going all in on artificiality. A 2025 survey of about 1,000 senior marketers in the UK and US from the social and influencer marketing agency Billion Dollar Boy found that roughly 79% said they are increasing investment in AI-generated creator content. Grand View Research estimates that the global virtual influencer market will reach $48.88 billion by 2030.

Real influencers fear that could translate into a lot of lost income.

"Why would Maybelline pay a real person if they can just pay an AI person that looks essentially the same?" Rooker said, using the popular beauty brand as an example. "The person scrolling Maybelline's Instagram doesn't need to know who it is in the video. They just have to think it's a real person."

Right now, "think" is the operative word. Disclosure requirements for AI influencers remain murky, and lawful uses of AI vary from state to state in the US. While many AI influencers are labeled as such in their bios — Aitana Lopez, a pink-haired fitness and fashion influencer calls herself a "digital soul," while Olivia Brand, a blonde Alex Cooper knock-off who generates inspirational podcast clips on TikTok, calls herself an "AI it-girl" — casual scrollers on their FYPs can easily remain oblivious to the fact that they've encountered AI at all.

Even if someone like Nielson could make the case for a right of publicity violation — alleging that a third party has taken her name, image, or likeness and used it for a commercial purpose without permission — lawsuits are expensive, and a worthwhile payoff isn't guaranteed.

All of this raises questions about how human influencers can continue to make a living if brands begin to favor their visually pristine, easily programmable counterparts. Those fears aren't unfounded: The Clueless, the Barcelona-based agency that created Aitana Lopez, among other hyper-realistic AI "stock models," pivoted away from hiring humans in the pandemic, citing their unpredictability and inconsistency as motivating factors.

Now, Aitana has three full-time partnerships, including one with a Spanish salon chain. She was recently used in a Black Friday campaign for Amazon. The Clueless creative director Andy García estimated that Aitana's assets — including her brand deals, paid posts, and bespoke "skincare" brand, Vellum, which is actually a software program to enhance the skin texture of AI avatars — generate about $75,000 to $100,000 a month. Other AI influencers also boast thriving careers: Lil Miquela, one of the original digital avatars, has partnered with Prada and Calvin Klein; Xania Monet landed a multimillion-dollar record deal; and Shudu, marketed as "the world's first digital supermodel," has starred in campaigns for Balmain and Hyundai.

García doesn't see her company's creation and other AI influencers as job-killers, but rather hurdles real humans have the tools to overcome.

"Right now, AI influencers are really not a threat to real influencers," she said. "It's like any opportunity, to which real influencers can adapt."

Many people still prefer to follow humans over robots

While brands may enjoy the control and cost efficiency digital avatars afford, when confronted directly with the question of AI, many consumers remain unconvinced.

Comment sections online are full of backlash against AI-generated ads and digital avatars, particularly those that seem designed to blend in with real people. Sienna Rose has inspired numerous sleuths to comb through her videos for copy-and-pasted details. (Suffice it to say that Nielson isn't the only creator whose backdrops and body movements appear to have been cloned on Rose's page.) Others have gone viral for protesting AI creep in daily life, from bots replacing customer service agents to stumbling across fake influencers on their feeds. When they're not being fooled by AI, many are irritated by it.

Cameron Mackintosh, a part-time content creator based in Nashville, said she was shocked and dismayed when she was briefly duped by an AI influencer on Instagram — and, even worse, when she noticed that people she knew in real life were following the account. Her video about the revelation blew up, amassing over 1.7 million views and hundreds of passionate comments.

"I would never want to read a story written by AI. I would never want to read a book written by AI. I wouldn't want to consume a painting that was created by a computer," Mackintosh told Business Insider.

As Business Insider reported in October, consumer backlash to AI accounts is causing some brands to retreat from the tech. In February, The New York Times compared the AI boom unfavorably to the "dot-com boom," citing a 2025 YouGov survey in which more than a third of respondents said they were "concerned that AI would end human life on earth."

Allison Fitzpatrick, an attorney in New York with experience in advertising and influencer marketing, told me that concerns about intellectual property and copyright infringement — not to mention the demand for real-human relatability that made influencers a force in the first place — have translated to a lack of interest in AI influencers among the brands that she works with.

"I think the human audience, the followers, are smart enough to know that between an influencer who is human and can actually taste the product or go on vacation and stay at the hotel or fly in the airline," she said. "You're going to take the human influencer's endorsement far more seriously than an AI influencer who's done none of what I've just described."

Influencers are ready to fight back

Influencers like Nielson aren't giving up hope yet. They say leaning into reality, not realism, will be key to staying in business.

"A lot of content creators, people like to follow them because they are relatable — people sharing skin issues or insecurities, for example," Nielson said. "That wouldn't really happen using an AI avatar because it's not human. It's not real."

Emily Higgins, a North Carolina-based content creator who also runs a social media consulting business, told me that as high-production-value content becomes the norm, she expects to see a renewed embrace of scripting hiccups, grainy footage, and other deliberate imperfections.

"If something's too highly produced or too perfect-seeming, then immediately, it can be dismissed as AI," Higgins said. "We're going to see people trying to create more flaws in their content. We'll see more human, emotional, raw kinds of elements."

Some brands are already leading the charge. Dove and Aerie have vowed not to use AI in their marketing materials, using slogans like "Real People Only" and "Keep Beauty Real." Aerie, which stopped retouching its models in 2014 — putting stretch marks, blemishes, and body diversity front and center — earned its most popular Instagram post in a year thanks to its anti-AI promise. Meanwhile, Heineken and Polaroid have explicitly mocked AI and Big Tech in recent ad campaigns.

Influencing is often dismissed as a low-effort profession, but at its core, it's an act of vulnerability. To broadcast your face and feelings to hundreds, thousands, or even millions of strangers requires nerve and resilience, neither of which AI can reproduce.

As a result, Mackintosh said she expects people to begin seeking out creators and brands that put visible effort into the creative process.

"There's this novelty about human creation, and I don't think that will ever go away," she said. "I always think it will be appreciated. I just think there will be less and less of it because, economically, it will be easier to fake."

• Camillia Nwokedi left her tech career to become a content creator in 2025.
• She started with $6,000 in savings and experimented with posting for 60 days before leaving tech.
• Nwokedi said the journey is lonely, but it's the best decision she has ever made.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Camillia Nwokedi, a 28-year-old content creator based in Pittsburgh. It's been edited for length and clarity.

When the crypto startup I was working for was sold in July 2025, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to go all in on myself as a content creator. I had about $6,000 in savings and less than 40,000 followers on TikTok, but I believed I was worth the investment.

In less than a year, I've gained brand deals, consulting and coaching clients, and I'm launching my second cohort soon. I'm taking the lessons I learned from the startup to build myself from the ground up.

It's been a difficult emotional journey, but investing in myself is the best decision I've ever made.

I worked at Accenture before getting into crypto

I worked at Accenture from late 2019 to 2021. Bitcoin was popping off at the time, and I started getting the itch to get into crypto, so I started listening to podcasts and building connections in that space.

In 2022, I connected with the CEO of a bitcoin rewards platform, and we hit it off right away. He offered me a job as a special ops agent, and I took it.

The team was really amazing, and I had a lot of senior responsibility, which I loved. At the same time, I was building a social media presence on TikTok and Instagram, where I posted about optimization, self-belief, competence, and more.

In mid-2025, the company was preparing to be sold, and I saw it as an opportunity to give myself a shot. I had been posting consistently, and it really gave me confidence to start looking at myself as an entity and not just a cog in the system.

I had helped scale and sell for other people, but now it was time to give myself that opportunity.

I did a 60-day trial run before going all in on content creation

In the 60 days prior to leaving the startup, I did a series on TikTok called SIM 60, where I posted a video each day pretending to act like a video game Sim. It was all an attempt to get me out of my head, put myself out there, and make content creation more fun. What it did was unblock me as a creative and force me to stop taking myself so seriously.

My audience significantly grew in that period, which gave me confidence that I'd be able to make life as a content creator work.

There are two necessary components for creating a startup: finances and self-belief. And sometimes, if you don't have the financial component, your self-belief can make up for that gap. Getting my self-belief up helped me feel as though I could go all in.

I started with $6,000 in savings and created a research and development budget

A lot of the initial planning was trying to get my working capital in place so that I could make this leap. I had about $6,000 in liquid savings and a retirement account with about $30,000 in it, which I didn't want to touch.

It wasn't a lot to go off of, but because I had been putting myself out there on social media consistently and even had a few user-generated content (UGC) and brand deals coming in, I had a lot of self-belief.

I even gave myself a research and development budget, so I had a little money set aside if I wanted to invest in coaching or consulting to help me with my branding. Thankfully, I haven't touched my retirement account.

I set quarterly goals and have days dedicated to things like CEO and CFO responsibilities

I looked at all the roles that I would have to maintain as a one-person business and decided to split my week into days dedicated to each role.

I have CEO day, COO day, CMO day, and more. It makes it so that every part of me can show up at the table, but I'm not necessarily asking myself to do it all at once.

Tuesdays are typically consulting and operations days for me. This is when I get things in order and execute things for my clients. As much as I've left the 9-to-5, I try to work within that realm for the structure. It helps me manage my time well without overwhelm.

I also give myself quarterly goals or KPIs, which has been comforting. It adds familiarity and structure to a space that is entirely new territory for me.

It's been an emotional and lonely journey

The most challenging and the most worthwhile part of switching from tech to content creation has been the emotional journey.

One morning, I cried because I was so stressed. There's a lot of discomfort that comes along with pursuing my goals. It can feel lonely to be building something entirely on my own.

I have to gentle-parent myself and my nervous system to keep going, and to keep believing that it's going to pay off.

It's hard to communicate to people how many internal conversations I have with myself on a daily basis to reframe old narratives and rewire limiting self-beliefs.

At the end of every week, I can't believe I made it

If you're considering leaving your job or making a big leap, don't ignore that feeling or settle.

I think people often stay as close to their dreams as possible without actually going after them directly.

As someone with not much savings who is still pursuing her dream, and it's working out, I could not recommend it more. It's the best decision I've ever made, and I hope others can have the experience of pursuing what they want as directly as possible.

Do you have a story about leaving tech and pursuing a different career you want to share? Email the editor, Manseen Logan, at mlogan@businessinsider.com.