❓ Problem

Ancestry has turned looking backwards into a genuinely enormous business. 71 billion records, more than 3 million paying subscribers, 150 million family trees and over $1 billion in annual revenue, which is why Blackstone paid $4.7 billion for it in 2020. The whole category it sits in is worth roughly $5.1 billion a year and growing double digits.

And almost every bit of it is about people who are dead.

Meanwhile the part of your life you actually lived has no archive at all. We take close to 2 trillion photos a year and the average phone is sitting on around 2,000 of them. That is not a memory. That is a landfill with a search bar. The photos are backed up, sorted by date, and completely unopened since 2019.

The old home for this was social media, and it has quietly stopped doing the job. Zuckerberg conceded on the stand at the FTC trial that his own 2022 internal note said friending and friend sharing are losing steam. Feeds became television. Nobody is posting the story of their own life to them any more, and nobody would find it if they did.

Here is the bit that makes the opportunity real, though. Every memory you have is also somebody else's memory. Ancestry's graph is ancestors who cannot add anything back. Yours is full of people who were standing right next to you and absolutely can. Ancestry is building a dead archive with 71 billion records in it. Nobody is building the living one.

✅ Solution

A social network where the unit is an event, not a person.

The wedge is narrow on purpose: own one event completely. The platform underneath, an event graph with time, place and people attached to every fragment, is what quietly turns into the archive of everybody's actual life.

📊 Key Numbers

Market size