When a Kid Becomes an Internet Star

10-year-old North West is photographed by her mother, Kim Kardashian, covered in diamonds. The caption on Instagram reads, “Stylist of the year.” North has diamonds wrapped around both wrists, her neck, her ears and her fingers. She’s sporting–what looks like–a fake nose and lip ring. If I didn’t know any better, I would say this girl looks like she’s older than eighteen. One person comments: “She’s probably wearing my college tuition.” Another: “So this is 10? Damn… what happens at 15?” 

In February North’s father, Kanye West, released a song featuring North. She stars in the music video as well. This is just a few months after North posed for the cover of i-D Magazine, along with her very own feature story. She’s still in elementary school. Well, home-elementary school. 

Although North West, her siblings, and cousins may be the ‘A team’ of child celebrities, those who have grown up with the internet have seen the early days of this phenomenon–child stars becoming as successful as mainstream stars. Television shows like Toddlers and Tiaras and Dance Moms set a precedent for reality TV star children to gain celebrity, along with entire fan bases. Not to mention the children actors across television networks such as Disney and Nickelodeon. 

Then, the rise of YouTube and the family vlog channel came along. Now, there were no scripts, or producers, or directors. It was parents showing their children in the morning before school. At dance practice, at the playground. At dinner, at bedtime. Throwing tantrums, and getting disciplined. Parents became the only dividing line between the household, and the entire world. 

Take Jaquelyn and her four-year-old daughter, Wren. Better known as @wren.eleanor, with over 17 million followers on TikTok. Since 2019, Jaquelyn has documented Wren throughout the stages of her life, beginning when she was a newborn. From a glance, it’s relatively innocent. Most videos consist of Wren dressed in costumes, or outfits. Sometimes Jaquelyn introduces Wren to a new food, and she shares the reaction. It’s normal for one of their videos to reach anywhere from one million to fifty million views. One video has over 100 million views. In one video posted March 2021, Jaquelyn places a small pickle in front of toddler Wren, seated at the kitchen counter, before warning Wren in a friendly voice, “Don’t eat it until I get back” and leaving the kitchen. 

If you’re on TikTok, you recognize this “challenge.” The idea is that a parent leaves the room, placing us in the perspective of being alone with the child, like an impromptu babysitter, watching as they struggle to constrain themselves from eating whatever snack or “treat” has been left behind. 

Wren smiles when she sees the pickle placed in front of her. She puts it in her mouth and plays with it in her hands–puts it halfway in her mouth and sucks on it, taking only just a tiny bite. The fifty second video has, disturbingly, been shared and saved over 40 thousand times.

“[Jaquelyn] is following fan pages for her daughter that repost photos of her, with the comments on,” TikTok user @bekahday points out in a response video. She then shows us an example of comment on these “fan accounts” of a four-year old Wren–heart eye emojis from grown men, who also follow other child accounts. “These are only two accounts I’m showing you an example of, out of almost two hundred thousand people who follow Wren,” she says. 

Family influencers such as these make their money off of brand deals, usually with some sort of relation to the already regular content they are making. Someone like Jaqueline would profit on brand deals with fast food companies (like the one with Runza in 2022). It could make them a few thousand dollars depending on the deal. But the real money is in the views–TikTok pays their curators 2 to 4 cents per thousand views. So, when Jaqueline makes several videos that gain 20 to 60 million views per week, the money to keep the content up is easily supplied. 

“I still follow old popular YouTubers from the 2013 era, like Zoe and Alfie Deyes who now have children and have them in the background of videos,” says 23-year-old Abby Weisser, who began watching family vloggers when she was a pre-teen. “But it’s tasteful–they don’t overshare or post them constantly. I feel like recently it's a trend for influencers to suddenly stop posting their kid’s face every day, even though they’ve been doing it for years already.” 

It’s easy to draw the lines to how we got to this point. Child exploitation is nothing new. It started as soon as entertainment began. We had Shirley Temple in the 1930s–a victim of sexually suggestive content and assault, all before the age of six. In the 70s, it was Brooke Shields playing a sex worker in the movie Pretty Baby at twelve-years-old. In the 80s, it was Drew Barrymore—gaining fame at the age of eight and becoming a drug addict by the age of twelve. 

Ariel Winter of Modern Family, and Jennette McCurdy of Nickelodeon, both were sexualized and abused by their vicarious stage-moms. Taylor Monson from Gossip Girl was put into modeling as a two-year-old, and forced to work in entertainment by her parents. And just recently, it was revealed that Amanda Bynes and Drake Bell were victims of sexual predators while working on Nickelodeon shows. 

Drake Bell says he turned to “destructive behaviors” after years of untreated trauma. He abused substances (unfortunately a common theme in child actors) and ended up in rehab and therapy. 

Jennette McCurdy told the New York Times in 2022, “My whole childhood and adolescence were very exploited.” Her mother controlled her friendships and encouraged an eating disorder. Adults who worked on the shows she was on mistreated her–pressured her to drink alcohol or kiss her co-star.

Disney star Alyson Stoner told People Magazine in 2021 that she experienced sexual harassment and child labor law violations. “Nothing was designed for me to end up normal,” she said. Stoner now advocates for changes in Hollywood that would protect young actors from being exploited– mentally, physically, and financially. 

It was only in 2000 that the California law (the Coogan law) changed, demanding that 15 percent of a child star’s gross earnings be put into a trust fund for them. Before, child stars hardly saw the money they made. 

Now, with everyone having access to a phone with a camera and the internet, everyone can make their child a star. Or rather, an influencer. And right now, Illinois is the only state in America where a child influencer must legally receive a percentage of the money earned in monetized content. This industry is valued at $21 billion dollars. But any money made from a family influencer video goes to the parents. Not the child–even though their childhood is being slowly drained away, and their day to day life becomes a full time job.