At the age of 12, I decided to give myself bangs. The reality was far from glamorous, and it’s certainly not a recommendation I’d make to anyone. Luckily, the ’80s allowed me to blow-dry my bangs (or fringe, as they’re called) sky-high and coat them in hairspray, helping me fit right in.
Fast forward to when I was 16, and an unknown allergen caused my lip to swell up unexpectedly, turning it a peculiar shade of purple mid-conversation and making communication a challenge. My mother and I were puzzled by the cause, but after a few months, the reaction mysteriously ceased.
In college, I made the questionable decision to pluck out most of my eyebrows, convinced they were too thick and dark. This resulted in my round face appearing even rounder, and my eyes seemed to vanish into slits. Thankfully, over time, they grew back.
Am I grateful that no one has dug up embarrassing photos from those times? Absolutely. And am I relieved that platforms like Facebook didn’t exist back then to broadcast my less-than-stellar moments? For sure! Wouldn’t you feel the same?
So why are we doing this to our children? A meme circulating on Facebook resonates with this sentiment: if you grew up in the ’80s or earlier, aren’t you thankful that your youthful antics didn’t end up online? Now, as a 40-year-old parent of two young children, I ponder whether my kids deserve the same privacy considerations.
My perspective has evolved significantly over time. When my son was born, I eagerly shared pictures of his first bath, peaceful sleep, and adorable outfits. As he grew, I documented milestones like crawling and his first taste of spaghetti. I wanted to declare my journey into motherhood and capture every precious moment to share with the world.
It turns out I wasn’t alone. A glance at any newsfeed reveals countless photos of friends’ children—whether they’re napping, at the dentist, or recovering from an illness. Social media has become a platform for sharing updates, showcasing achievements, and seeking support during tough times. However, this also means that personal information is laid bare for public consumption, and our children’s lives are being chronicled without their consent.
When my daughter arrived two and a half years after my son, I initially shared her newborn photo but soon found myself more reserved about what I posted. I was surprised by this newfound desire for privacy. Was it because I was navigating motherhood for the second time, or was it influenced by the fact that she was a girl? If so, shouldn’t my son also have the same level of protection?
What if sharing these treasured moments meant relinquishing some control over them?
Among my mom friends, opinions vary widely. Some choose never to disclose their children’s names online and prefer to keep photos private. Others are more open, sharing every doctor visit and milestone. This spectrum of choices has taught me a valuable lesson about how I want to handle my children’s online presence.
In this era of information overload, it raises questions about dignity and autonomy. My husband and I aspire for our children to grow into responsible individuals who feel empowered. This is why we don’t force them into physical contact or dismiss their boundaries during play. So, who are we to share their personal information without their permission?
Consider a child who is vulnerable, recovering from an illness or engaged in imaginative play. When I share those moments, they transcend our family experience and enter the public sphere. I lose the ability to control who sees these moments, how they’re interpreted, and for what purposes they might be used.
When my newborn faced severe weight loss and was readmitted to the hospital, I felt the urge to share my struggle online to gather support. However, I realized it was his life and privacy that were at stake. Similarly, had I posted a photo of my son covered in hives, it might have garnered sympathy, but would he appreciate others accessing that moment later in life? Even a cute snapshot of my children in the bath seemed too personal to share.
How would my daughter feel if she met someone who already knew intimate details about her life?
I understand the desire to connect and keep loved ones informed, especially since many of my family and friends live far away. Sharing a delightful photo of my daughter or son can brighten their day, and I recognize the community support social media offers.
Yet, I often find myself weighing the benefits of community against the risk of oversharing. Before I post, I evaluate whether my child will appreciate this moment being digitally immortalized. Will it embarrass them in the future? Is there a better way to communicate and build connections? Despite the challenges facing social media, platforms will continue to exist, tempting us to share our children’s dignity for the sake of connection.
In this digital age, I’m striving for simplicity. I recall when sharing photos meant using private albums or making phone calls to update friends and family about significant events. I have come to realize that I’ve been too eager to share precious moments casually, trading meaningful communication for oversharing that often leads to less thoughtful responses.
As I reflect on the photos I shared of my son when he was born, I hope he’ll one day forgive my enthusiasm for sharing.
Summary:
The author reflects on their past experiences with childhood privacy and how it shapes their approach to sharing photos of their children on social media. They explore the balance between wanting to connect with family and friends and the necessity of protecting their children’s dignity and privacy in an age where personal information is often shared online without consent. Ultimately, they advocate for mindful sharing of their children’s moments, considering how these memories will affect them in the future.