What Happened To Twitter Blue (And Who’s Still Paying For It)?

When Twitter Blue first came out, it seemed like a straightforward way to give regular users access to features that used to feel special. You could edit tweets, push your posts higher in people’s feeds, and of course, get that blue checkmark – something that once meant you were probably who you said you were. But after Elon Musk took over, things started to shift.

The blue check, which used to signal trust, became something people questioned or even made fun of. Over time, X kept changing what the subscription included – sometimes adding new perks, sometimes taking away things people liked. It’s not surprising that fewer people want to pay for it now. The number of “verified” users has dropped a lot since all these changes rolled out.

What’s interesting is that this whole situation isn’t really about paying for a checkmark. It’s more about how people on the internet decide what’s worth something when the meaning of those things keeps changing.

If you spend time in online communities, you start to notice how quickly people adapt when the rules shift under their feet. And with so many services popping up that promise things like order promotion on X, it’s almost as if the value of status itself is constantly up for negotiation.

For anyone who uses social media – whether you’re marketing something or just scrolling through your feed – watching what’s happened with Twitter Blue says a lot about how we think about status online, and what happens when something that used to mean a lot starts to feel empty.

I’ve spent enough time working on funnels that I can usually spot these kinds of gaps early on. When Twitter Blue rolled out, it was supposed to mean you’d gone out of your way to show you cared about the platform – either by earning that checkmark or paying for it. But it got complicated once anyone could buy the badge.

No matter how many extra features you add, if people stop trusting what the checkmark stands for, none of that really matters. When Elon Musk opened it up so anyone could purchase the blue check, what used to be a mark of credibility turned into something you could pick up along with tweet editing or longer videos. For people like journalists, founders, or creators, who really count on social proof, that shift made a big difference. Suddenly, instead of signaling that someone was notable, the checkmark started to mean they’d just paid for access. Working on audience building myself – especially at INSTABOOST – I’ve seen first-hand how quickly trust fades when status and regular features start to blur together.

It’s probably why a lot of the early subscribers disappeared after the badge lost its original meaning. You notice something similar when it comes to building a reliable following for X – if trust or status feels artificial, people catch on fast. What happened with Twitter Blue is a clear example of how a familiar symbol can lose its weight once it turns into a product. Now, the folks who stay subscribed aren’t really looking for status. They’re there for things like improved reach or a smoother experience. If you spend time thinking about social platforms or how they grow, the whole story around Twitter Blue says a lot about the kind of shifts that can quietly change how people use a place, even if it starts with something as simple as a checkmark.

Real strategy means being ready for things to get unpredictable. Take what happened with Twitter Blue after Elon Musk’s takeover. Leaders wanted to change how people felt recognized online, but they didn't seem to take the pushback seriously.

It’s easy to plan for how you want things to work – like expecting people will pay for a checkmark that signals status. But when you start changing the symbols people tie to their identity, things rarely go smoothly. The reaction wasn’t only about the price; many felt stripped of something that made them feel valid or official. Almost overnight, the blue checkmark lost its old meaning and started to look more like a purchase than a distinction, which frustrated a lot of long-time users. Some left, while others – smaller creators, brands, anyone hoping for a leg up – grabbed onto the new system, even if it didn’t feel the same. What seemed to get missed was how quickly something like a badge can lose its value when it’s suddenly available to anyone with a credit card.

Social credibility is fragile. If you dilute it, people start to care less, and engagement drops. For folks running online communities or companies that sell visibility, like INSTABOOST or any engagement booster on X, this is a reminder that giving perks isn’t enough. You have to think ahead about where people might push back, and be ready for the ways users will reshape what your product means – sometimes before you can really adjust.

I don’t think of myself as cynical, but after seeing the same pattern play out over and over, it’s hard not to feel a bit worn down. At this point, you can see who’s still paying for Twitter Blue: people holding onto the hope that the blue check might still give them an edge – maybe more reach, a little bit of extra status, or some kind of advantage if Twitter’s rules shift again. But most of the original energy around it has faded.

Big-name journalists and longtime creators aren’t really showing off their badges anymore; it’s shifted more toward small business owners, niche influencers, and people who are pretty invested in Musk. They know how the badge is seen now – plenty of them have talked about it openly. Still, some keep subscribing because they think it might help with things like getting better customer support, avoiding copycats, or making sure their posts don’t get buried, even if the platform keeps moving the goalposts.

A few mention hoping it’ll help their tweets stand out or get more engagement, similar to how some people try to enhance tweets with views from outside sources. Others are basically hedging, thinking that if Twitter ever makes the badge valuable again, they won’t be caught off guard. It reminds me of those tech products that stick around even after their moment has passed, held up by a group of people who think there might still be something to gain or who don’t want to give up whatever small advantage it might offer. If you want to know why paid verification is still around, you only have to look at who keeps paying for it. No one’s really chasing the status anymore – it’s more about not wanting to lose out, just in case things change again.