It begins with a playful hand, a clawed gesture, and a demand: "Dame Un Grrr." Which literally means, give me a growl. In the span of a few weeks, this catchy phrase has spiraled into a global language of fun, connecting millions through a shared, digital snarl. We've all seen it---or even done it. We borrow a little bit of the tiger's fierce, main-character energy, for a few seconds of internet fame.
But while we play-act the growl in our safe, pixelated worlds, a much more complicated story is unfolding for the animal that inspired it. Our fascination with the tiger's power is a double-edged sword. The same allure that makes a trend go viral is also driving a dangerous reality, one where the tiger's roar is silenced behind the walls of a villa, not echoing freely through the forest.
From Digital Gesture to Dangerous Reality
The "Dame Un Grrr" challenge is, at its heart, a celebration of the tiger from a respectful distance. We mimic its claw without ever touching its reality. Yet, scroll just a little further on the same social media feeds, you might find a very different interpretation of this fascination.
In Indonesia, home to the critically endangered Sumatran tiger, a contrasting narrative plays out. Influencers like Alshad Ahmad attract millions of followers with content featuring majestic tigers lounging in his mansion. At first glance, it seems like a harmless, even glamorous, affair.
But this is where the illusion becomes most dangerous. The tigers in these villas are often Bengal tigers, which can be legally kept with permits, unlike the critically endangered Sumatran tiger. The influencer may own a legal Bengal, but the performance of "domestication" erases the wild essence of all tigers. Even worse, Â the audience doesn't see the paperwork; they only see a majestic predator becomes a pet.
This "performative domestication" fuels a generic desire for tiger ownership that can attract illegal traffickers who are all too happy to fill with the much rarer Sumatran tiger from the forests of Sumatra. It's shown from how netizens reacted, that more or less go, "That's so cute, I wish I could have one at home!" If given the chance and resources, who can guarantee those comments would forever stay as comments?
And Alshad, is not the only well-known figure to own a tiger. Although they might say, Â it's beyond their control, some accountability acts still needs to be held on them. All of them, may it be as big as Alshad or even the micro ones. They use their platform as some kind of campaigning to domesticating tiger, whether they realise or no. No matter they admit it or no. So, responsibility comes to them.
Influencers' fans are often defending with a seductive but flawed logic: "The tiger is safer in their home than in the forest." This argument, however, ignores a fundamental truth.
Tigers are not oversized house cats; they are apex predators, a keystone species whose presence is vital for the health of entire ecosystems. Confining them to a villa, no matter how luxurious, is a form of psychological and physical torture, denying them the instinct to roam territories that can span 60 miles. With fewer than 400 Sumatran tigers left, the argument that "it's just one tiger" is catastrophic; every single individual is critical for the survival of their entire kind.
Sometimes, they don't realise conserving tiger doesn't only mean they survive as a species. It's not only about them having enough food or place to sleep. More than that, to preserve their characteristics, keeping what makes them tigers. Letting them doing what they want in ecological landscape.
Okay, That's Not Good. Is There Any Law?
