Reality vs reels: The psychological toll of being a ‘kidfluencer’

Hyderabad: At first glance, it looks like just another vibrant Instagram feed—pastel grids, trending audio, and playful edits. But a deeper scroll reveals the creator is only nine years old. Her bio reads: "DM for paid promotion and collab." Her reels—dance clips to blockbuster tracks and skits on school life—routinely clock millions of views. With over 3.5 lakh followers and a feed dotted with promotions for skincare labels, jewellery brands, and international food chains, the account has evolved into a professional influencer portfolio.
She is far from alone. Despite the risks, many children are not just active on social media; they are looking to make money out of it. This trend mirrors a growing global concern. Australia has already moved to bar social media for those under 16, and French President Emmanuel Macron, while speaking at the AI Impact Summit held in New Delhi recently, noted that France, Spain, and other European nations are considering similar bans, urging Prime Minister Narendra Modi to join the movement. A search by TOI across Instagram—the most popular platform for youngsters—found numerous minors monetising content as a daily ritual. In Hyderabad, a brother duo with over 97,000 followers chronicles their daily routine, from school mornings to mall outings, in comedic edits. Their popularity stems from their command of Dakhani Hindi, attracting fans nationwide. Though they appear to be under 10, they routinely pose for "fan" photos outside schools, and their bio explicitly invites brand collaborations, with also a contact number tagged along with it. Another 12-year-old creator with 1.4 lakh followers attracts thousands of likes within hours through lip-sync videos of popular film dialogues and peer collaborations.The Parental StruggleMany parents TOI spoke to disapprove of this digital presence but feel powerless. "The pressure is real," says the mother of a 13-year-old. "If one classmate has 30,000 followers, the rest feel they're falling behind. Follower counts have become status symbols compared like trophies."One mother recalls how her academically bright 15-year-old daughter created secret accounts to "fit in" at a new school. What began as harmless posting spiralled into interactions with strangers and the misuse of inappropriate photographs. "She was traumatised and dropped out of school for a year," the mother shared. "We are still rebuilding her confidence through counselling." The family filed a cyber complaint, but the emotional fallout lingered.These are no longer isolated tales. Parents report sharp behavioural shifts—irritability, withdrawal, and aggression—when devices are restricted. The mother of a Class 8 student described how her son's post-pandemic screen time shifted from classes to gaming and short videos. "He began hiding devices in the washroom and staying up late. When we tried to restrict him, he became aggressive and even refused to eat." She had to put her career on pause to monitor him more closely. A crisis of dependencyMental health professionals confirm a surge in social media dependency among children aged 10 to 17. "The extent of addiction is alarming," says city-based psychologist Devika Rani. "We see children threatening self-harm or quitting school when phone access is limited." She recalls a 12-year-old who, after being given a phone to "adjust" with peers, became convinced she could earn quick money as a creator, abandoning her dreams of becoming an engineer. When her parents intervened, her reaction was intense and volatile.Inside classrooms, educators say the ripple effects are unmistakableIn classrooms, the fallout is visible. Educators report declining academic performance, shorter attention spans, and weakened social skills. "Students operate hidden accounts under the guise of academic use," says Mayasukumaram of the Gitanjali Group of Schools. While the school has introduced digital safety workshops, she stresses that schools cannot solve this without home supervision.Other institutions are prioritising engagement over enforcement. At Johnson Grammar School, academic director Laxmi Vishwanathan has seen the "unintended consequences" of post-pandemic digital literacy. Rather than blanket bans, the school has doubled down on field trips, reading rewards, and compulsory sports. "If we say ‘no' outright, it triggers rebellion," she says. "We're trying to make the real world more compelling than the virtual one."