“Perhaps the challenge lies in finding a way to keep kids safe in the social media space rather than keeping them from it”
BY HARRIET CURZON, IMAGE BY DRAGON IMAGES
I dread to think that, without social media, I would still only be dating men. But in 2019, somewhere through the sea of “hey mamas”, thirst traps and sapphic drama, the algorithm figured out my sexuality before I did, and social media offered me a glimpse into queer identity, fashion and community.
Yesterday, Australia’s new ban took effect for under-16s and every platform, from TikTok to Facebook to Kick, was gone in one fell swoop in a bid to tackle the mental health crisis and protect kids from harmful content. Millions of teens across Australia woke up to blank screens, and after trying to swerve the system by resetting accounts, changing birthdays or, allegedly, attempting to use Beyonce’s face for age verification (iconic, but unsuccessful), they admitted defeat.
But as they mourn the loss of this other world, I couldn’t help but wonder, in the true Carrie Bradshaw way, for all its downfalls, does social media give teens something worth saving?
Social media helping people realise their sexuality is a tale as old as, well, TikTok, and, in my case, it wasn’t super hard to beat me to the punch. Having gone to an all-girls school in the suburbs with few queer friends or role models, it never occurred to me that being bisexual was something that I could be. Mainstream media in 2019 gave only crumbs of bisexual representation, but on social media, there were no rules to what bisexuality looked like, crew socks and vans uniform aside. At the same time as feeling thrilling and new, it felt mainstream and reassuringly unremarkable, and I was able to come to terms with my sexuality far more easily than if I had never had access to it.
This was before algorithms had so much power to influence, and platforms realised they could monetise on keeping us scrolling for hours. Parents and schools are understandably overwhelmed, and with the rise of AI, even those of us who grew up digitally native are struggling to differentiate the real from the fake.
But barring teens from the apps altogether feels blunt. In an age where most people’s communication hinges on the digital, this move risks increasing isolation and teens losing community and support.
It’s not just LGBTQIA+ teens who rely on these platforms for community, one Reddit user said: “As an autistic 13-year-old I am devastated. My playlist of 1,400+ songs on YouTube will be deleted and Reddit too, I have zero friends … I will be completely alone for the next three years until I am 16.”
There’s no doubt that being a teen today is far from simple, but unplugging an entire generation eliminates avenues for connection and isolates those who need it most. Perhaps the challenge lies in finding a way to keep kids safe in the social media space rather than keeping them from it.
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