I just had a random stranger attack my parenting skills online. After making a generic comment about the Australian social media ban for under 16s, I received an anonymous response that’s a classic of the keyboard-warrior genre: “We’ve only got this ban because parents like you don’t do your job and exercise proper guidance and direction.”
Ooof.
Like most parents, my first instinct was to plummet into an abyss of guilt and rumination. Have I ruined my teenager’s life by allowing her monitored access to certain social media accounts? Should I be sacrificing her ability to connect with friends, many of whom are too old to be affected by the ban? What if my choices have already fried her brain and forced her into a life of incessant scrolling for meaning and dopamine?
The new social media ban for under 16s has been fraught, not least for parents.Credit: iStock
But then the hypocrisy hit me. We’re in the middle of implementing a national policy to protect youngsters from the influence and judgment of others online, yet the moment I voiced an informed perspective about that very process, I was smacked in the face with the thing we’re trying to stop.
Yes, I’ve allowed my teenagers to use social media. I’ve done it mindfully, with lots of conversations about dangers and limitations. As a family, we’ve always made it clear that it’s OK to ask questions about the content they’ve seen and this has driven some fantastic discussions around the dinner table. Screen time never gets in the way of important social events, school or sport.
But I shouldn’t need to explain this to @mansplainer2000. I shouldn’t need to justify my parenting. Parents are not the problem.
I fully support the intent behind this ban and my heart goes out to any young person and family affected by social media harm, but leaning into the parent-blaming narrative is simplistic and wrong.
If we’re going to talk about responsibility, let’s at least put it where it belongs. The real burden of this ban should be sitting squarely on the shoulders of the social media companies that built these platforms, profited from young users for years, and consistently dragged their feet on meaningful safety reforms.
And don’t even get me started on our political leaders, who have actively enabled the increased use of digital tools across all aspects of our lives. They’ve allowed, and even encouraged, these billion-dollar tech companies to grow from being more than just a helpful tool to being omnipresent and woven into the infrastructure of daily life in ways we barely notice any more.
These companies shape how we communicate, shop, bank, study, work, organise community events, consume news and access essential services. We’ve built a world where opting out is nearly impossible.
Whether we like it or not, they’ve already infiltrated the lives of our children. Since COVID times, these platforms stalk them into classrooms, sports teams and even homework platforms.
We could delay their access to GRWM (that is, Get Ready With Me videos that feature online influencers sharing their daily fashion or make-up routines. Think earnest TED talk with a sales pitch for lip gloss.) And we could stop them recording random dance trends. But holding back the tide of social media is like asking us to empty the ocean with a teaspoon.
No matter how many rules we set, conversations we have or boundaries we try to maintain, the digital world doesn’t stop at our front door. We can guide, supervise and educate, but we can’t pretend that we have the power to single-handedly shield children from a society that runs on constant connectivity.
Funnily enough, my original comment was to highlight that my teenager still has access to all her accounts. She hasn’t even been asked for a Face ID. Maybe that’s because she inherited my penchant for wombat videos and dreadful cooking shows, but more probably, it’s because the rollout isn’t as seamless as the pundits suggest.
There are valid arguments for this social media ban on both sides, but regardless of where you stand, there’s no excuse for pointing your finger at parents and making them feel even more overwhelmed than they already do.
The good news is that it’s turned the whole process into a learning experience. I gathered the kids together and showed them the comment. We collectively rolled our eyes, then I closed my laptop and we went out together for sushi.
I’m calling that a parenting win.
Gayle McNaught is an exhausted parent who doesn’t need your opinion, thank you.
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