I regularly shared photos of my son on social media. Then alarm bells started ringing
Social media is a strange place. On the one hand it can be a relentlessly toxic, dark cluster of ill intent; on the other, it can act as the glue that binds us to new communities, friends of the past and family we’ve almost forgotten. Nostalgia kicks in when we scroll through Instagram or Facebook and see life milestones from decades gone by. It’s a gentle reminder of life’s simple preciousness.
That’s why it makes perfect sense that, according to some estimates, 42% of parents in Britain share photos of their children online. More than 50% of those parents share these photos at least once a month. A 2018 report by the children’s commissioner found that parents share about 71 photos and 29 videos of their child every year on social media. On average, by the time the child is aged 13, parents have posted 1,300 photos and videos of them to social media.
I used to fall into that category. My son was born in 2015, and as a doting new mother, I was eager to keep people abreast of my wonderful new life. I posted a picture of my son in his cot, neatly swaddled, fast asleep. I posted a picture of him looking outside the window, admiring his first snow. I posted a picture of us together, sitting on a swing in a pretty London park. It gave friends and family a chance to watch my son grow up.
But after a few years of regular sharing, I stumbled upon a campaign by the Child Rescue Coalition that jolted me into a serious rethink, and I started to question how much of my son’s life should be documented and readily available to all. Their Kids for Privacy campaign was a stark reminder of the risks of overexposing our children’s most private moments on social media. Reading the information provided by the campaign, the words “vulnerable”, “paedophile” and “predators” felt like daggers.
For the first time, I found myself asking: why am I sharing? Who are these photos for? And more importantly, who could they be reaching? Once those photos are posted online, it’s almost impossible to completely recall them (especially considering that screenshot and screen-recording features are now integrated aspects of modern tech).
I’m often reminded of the social media families who share their entire lives online, using their children to chase clicks. I wonder if they realise they’re inadvertently exposing their children to harm.
I asked myself whether my son would be happy with me sharing photos of him as he grows up. Was I encroaching on his privacy before he was even aware of it? By putting his photos online, I was automatically creating a chain of data attached to him, indirectly building his digital footprint – and I didn’t fully understand the implications. As technology evolves, who knows how his personal data will be used?
As a 90s kid whose parents used a point-and-shoot compact camera and sent the film off to Boots to be developed, my precious baby photos have remained securely tucked away among a collection of physical photo albums somewhere in my parents’ garage. As they should be. I never had to experience my childhood photos being shared online, so I’ve never had to deal with the consequences. Everything was more private back then, and I want it to be the same for my son.
So I have scrubbed all photos of my son from social media. I stopped consenting to his school and sports clubs taking photos of him for online marketing purposes. I told my family members to stop posting pictures of him on their social media accounts. Instead, I now share exciting moments with close friends and family directly via private message. It’s more personal this way. And it’s safer.
Being a parent means being proud, but it also means shielding our children from unnecessary risks. Exposing them to unknown audiences isn’t worth the likes or the attention.
Hannah Nwoko is a freelance writer whose work has been featured in Business Insider, Parents, Romper and HelloGiggles
right groups, who caused significant disruptions by targeting protesters with chants such as “We want our country back” and “England till I die”.
It’s clear that Braverman’s comments speak to a rightwing panic over the pro-Palestine marches – many see them as a symbol of uncontrolled immigration and the growing presence of Muslims in society. But it isn’t just Muslims who are calling for a ceasefire in Gaza. The demands are coming from a wide spectrum of society, including those of Jewish, Christian, Hindu and various other faiths, as well as those with no religious affiliation at all. In the latest polling, 66% of the UK population want an immediate ceasefire.
Anti-Muslim rhetoric has real-life consequences that have a genuine impact on British Muslims like me. I recently spoke at a Muslim primary school in London that had received a threat targeting children and staff of the school – the person who issued the threat referenced Israel’s war on
Gaza as justification. Yet this incident received coverage in only a few media outlets, and there was a notable absence of any expression of support from the government. Some Muslim women have told me they feel more fearful when going out in Islamic dress due to having been attacked in broad daylight – and hold the government and some media organisations to blame for stoking division and hate.
Words wield immense power – and rightwing politicians are using them cleverly to cater to and whip up their audience. But we need compassion instead – and a willingness to confront Islamophobia head on. Politicians must prioritise inclusive language and policies that promote unity rather than division. The government should take concrete steps to address Islamophobia instead of dismissing its existence, including providing support for victims of Islamophobic hate crimes. It’s imperative that we collectively work towards creating a society where all individuals are valued and respected, regardless of their faith or background. I for one cannot forget that true strength lies in our ability to embrace diversity and stand against hatred in all its forms.
Tasnim Nazeer is a journalist and freelance TV reporter. She is a Universal Peace Federation ambassador for peace
Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.