Contributor: Cynthia McCallum
2/16/26 — 6:00 PM
Children today are growing up in a world where whatever they see on social media feels instantly valid and true. That belief — that every post, video, or “fact” online is trustworthy — has become its own kind of danger. The real risk isn’t just misinformation; it’s how easily young minds can absorb it without question.
Redirecting their priorities matters. Kids need to understand that social media is entertainment, not education — a place to watch, not a place to validate what’s real. What you see online isn’t automatically right, and helping them recognize that may be one of the most important lessons of this generation.
Children today are growing up in a world where social media doesn’t just entertain them — it instructs them. TikTok, Instagram, YouTube Shorts, and every other platform built for speed and spectacle have become the new authority figures in their lives. For many kids, what they see online feels more real, more trustworthy, and more emotionally compelling than what they hear from parents, teachers, or even their own lived experiences. And when the subject is something as personal and complex as identity, that misplaced trust can send them down paths that don’t reflect who they truly are.
Dr. Hilary Cass has spoken directly about this problem, warning that young people are absorbing online narratives as if they are medical truth, psychological truth, and personal truth. Her concern isn’t political. It isn’t ideological. It’s developmental. Children and adolescents are still forming their sense of self, still learning how to evaluate information, still figuring out what is real and what is performance. When they take social‑media content literally, especially content that oversimplifies identity into checklists and stereotypes, the risks are enormous.
The internet has created a new category of “experts” — influencers who speak with confidence, certainty, and charisma, but who have no qualifications, no training, and no accountability. A teenager with a ring light and a trending audio clip can present themselves as a guide to identity, offering advice that sounds authoritative but is built on nothing more than personal opinion and algorithmic incentives. Kids don’t see the difference. They see someone who seems sure of themselves, someone who looks like they know what they’re talking about, someone who speaks in absolutes. And young minds are drawn to absolutes.
Children are impressionable not because they are weak, but because they are developing. Their brains are wired to imitate, absorb, and experiment. They are supposed to be influenced — but by the right people. By adults who know them, love them, and understand their context. Instead, many kids are being shaped by strangers on screens who know nothing about them at all. These strangers don’t see the child’s personality, their history, their environment, their emotional needs. They see views, likes, and engagement.
One of the most harmful narratives circulating online is the idea that childhood preferences automatically signal identity. A boy who enjoys dress‑up or imaginative play is treated as if he is revealing something profound about himself. A girl who prefers trucks, tools, or rough‑and‑tumble games is framed as if she is sending a coded message about who she “really is.” But this is not science. This is not psychology. This is not healthy exploration. This is stereotyping — the same old gender stereotypes that society has been trying to dismantle for decades, now repackaged as insight.
Children have always experimented with roles, costumes, toys, and imagination. A boy wearing a costume is just a boy wearing a costume. A girl playing with trucks is just a girl playing with trucks. These moments don’t need interpretation. They don’t need labels. They don’t need online commentary. They need space. They need time. They need the freedom to explore without being told that every preference is a sign of something deeper.
But social media doesn’t allow for nuance. It doesn’t allow for slow development. It doesn’t allow for uncertainty. It rewards bold statements, dramatic claims, and simple explanations. And so children are fed a steady diet of content that presents identity as a checklist: “If you like these things, it means this.” “If you don’t fit in here, it means you belong there.” “If you feel different, it must be because of this label.” These checklists are not grounded in research. They are grounded in engagement. They are designed to go viral, not to guide a child safely through self‑discovery.
Imagine a 12‑year‑old scrolling through Instagram. They see a creator confidently explaining that if you don’t fit traditional gender stereotypes, you must belong to a different category. They see thousands of comments cheering it on. They see millions of likes. They see certainty. And they think, “Maybe that’s me.” Not because they feel it deeply. Not because they’ve explored it thoughtfully. But because someone online told them it must be true. This is not identity. This is influence. And influence without context is a recipe for confusion.
The transformation trend makes this even more complicated. A creator posts a dramatic before‑and‑after video with emotional music, filters, and a storyline that compresses years of personal experience into 15 seconds. Kids see the applause, the validation, the celebration. They see someone who seems to have found clarity, belonging, and purpose. And they think, “If I do that, maybe I’ll be celebrated too.” This is not self‑discovery. This is social reward. It’s the algorithm shaping identity, not introspection.
Another common narrative online is the idea that discomfort is diagnostic. Adolescence is uncomfortable. Growing up is uncomfortable. Feeling different, awkward, or out of place is part of the human experience. But social media often frames discomfort as identity rather than a normal part of development. A lonely child is vulnerable. A confused child is vulnerable. A child seeking belonging is vulnerable. And algorithms know exactly how to keep them hooked. They feed them more of the same content, reinforcing the idea that their discomfort must mean something specific.
Dr. Hilary Cass has emphasized that children are being exposed to simplified, misleading, and sometimes harmful narratives about identity online. She warns that kids are taking online content as authoritative, even when it contradicts medical guidance, psychological research, or common sense. Social media compresses complex issues into soundbites. It presents identity as a quick revelation rather than a long, thoughtful process. And young people may pursue paths they don’t fully understand because they believe what they see online is the truth.
The real risk is that children may make major life assumptions based on content that was never meant to guide them. They may adopt labels they don’t understand. They may feel pressured to align with online communities that reward certain identities. They may mistake stereotypes for self‑knowledge. They may take steps — socially, emotionally, or otherwise — that don’t reflect who they truly are. And once a child has publicly aligned themselves with a narrative, it becomes harder for them to step back, reconsider, or change course.
Social media is powerful. Children are impressionable. And misinformation spreads faster than truth. When kids believe everything they see online, especially about something as personal and complex as identity, they can take paths that don’t reflect who they truly are. They can make decisions based on trends instead of understanding. They can mistake stereotypes for self‑knowledge. They can confuse belonging with identity. They can confuse attention with authenticity.
The solution is not to shame kids for being online. The solution is not to silence conversations about identity. The solution is not to deny anyone’s lived experience. The solution is context. Children need adults — parents, teachers, mentors, counselors — who can help them understand what social media is and what it isn’t. They need guidance on how to question what they see, how to separate entertainment from truth, how to explore identity safely and thoughtfully, and how to recognize when they are being influenced rather than discovering something genuine.
Kids deserve room to grow without being boxed in by stereotypes or pushed by algorithms. They deserve the freedom to explore without being told that every preference is a sign of something deeper. They deserve the chance to develop at their own pace, without the pressure of online narratives that oversimplify who they are and who they might become. Childhood is supposed to be messy, imaginative, experimental, and free. It is not supposed to be a diagnostic exercise.
Let social media entertain them. But let adults guide them. Because what kids see online isn’t always right. And what they believe too early can shape the rest of their lives.
Some parents and critics have raised concerns about Dylan Mulvaney’s content, noting that the light, playful tone she often uses may shape how young children interpret ideas about gender at an age when they are still forming their sense of self. They worry that this level of visibility and simplicity could create confusion for very young viewers who are not yet equipped to separate entertainment from guidance.
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