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Illustration by Matt Herring / Ikon Images

Is it ever okay to post pictures and videos of children online? The question has troubled most people online - from influencers with Instagrammable babies to the average parent posting on a private account - since the dawn of social media. But it's never more contentious than in the world of family vlogging.

Family vlogs - videos documenting the everyday lives of real families and young children, mostly posted to YouTube - boomed in the 2010s. In recent years they have come under greater scrutiny, as viewers increasingly question the ethics of documenting intimate details about children's lives for the entertainment of millions. In some cases, the children of family vloggers have grown up and spoken out about the psychological effect of having their childhoods broadcast online.

Many family accounts have since vanished. One disappeared following accusations that a parent was texting with teenage fans; another after a parent was charged with child abuse. A family with millions of followers shut down their account after making videos encouraging their children to physically abuse one another, while another account was shut down after two parents told their viewers they would be putting their adopted child, who had special needs, back up for adoption, despite making videos about the child for years.

This reckoning has meant that audiences are more aware of how children might be put at risk by family "content" and are more sensitive than ever to parenting influencers. But this hasn't markedly decreased the appetite for family vlogs. Instead, it has merely created a demand for something slightly different - content which assuages the concerns and guilt of the viewer but still provides what they want to watch.

We have entered the era of the "ethical" family vlogger. These parents promote a message of "transparency" to their followers - telling them, in detail, about how often their kids "work" on "creating content" and how they honour their child's wishes when making videos. They "respect" their children's "boundaries" and promise audiences that they would never force their kids to shoot something they didn't want to. Their children's faces are hidden, or their names and ages are obscured; they may be out of shot, with only their voices audible, or filmed entirely from behind. These parent influencers will criticise other family vloggers, declaring that they know they'll lose viewers by following these more ethical practices. Some will dramatically leave social media to "protect" their children, only to slowly return to posting videos of them. They argue that, rather than making content out of their kids, they are bravely documenting the reality of modern family life.

Despite such loud proclamations of morality, the reality of this new version of family vlogging leaves many viewers asking the same ethical questions. Their identities may be more hidden, but these children are still filmed obsessively - often, it would appear, without their knowledge: from a distance, zoomed in, as they're playing, or in the car when they're partially hidden in the backseat. Even with increased transparency, the schedules for filming can still be rigorous. One viral TikTok highlighted just how much some family vloggers expect of their children, resharing a video from a TikTok influencer who told followers she didn't want her kids "working" on a family holiday and so would "only" shoot "a few videos a day", before scrolling through a list of 40 different filming concepts. (The influencer responded that these were ideas, not a schedule.)

While the ethical issues with, for example, making sponsored content about a child's medical appointment are fairly obvious, these rebranded family vlogging channels can enter much greyer territory. Some present filming their kids as an actively moral act or a public service to other families. These accounts, such as some run by stay at home mothers (#SAHM) or parents of kids with special needs, claim to shine a light on the under-discussed struggles of parents today. Videos featuring children with disabilities may reveal the challenges of parenting a child with specific needs, but all too often it is videos showing these children in distress or vulnerable moments that "perform" the best online and attract the most views.

To many people, the ethical issues of filming your child for social media content will still be obvious. However, fans of these accounts argue that these kids are getting a cut of the money, that their parents are acting in their best interest, or that content creation is real "work", just like child acting. But these children cannot consent to the reality of having their daily lives documented in detail for strangers on the internet - nor is this "work" a role they can leave behind at the end of the day. Plenty of "parenting" content could be made without featuring any children at all. But the uncomfortable truth of family content is that it's entertainment, and what draws in viewers is not parenting advice but sweet and charming clips of children.

It's understandable why this content is so popular: for all parents, there's probably some relief in seeing other people grappling with the ups and downs of modern parenting. But in the world of rebranded, sanitised family vlogging, ethical posturing obscures the reality: that these people are still influencers, ones using their children's private lives to sell content that will bring them attention, money and opportunity. This may be a gentler, more "transparent" version of family vlogging - but it's still exploitation.
[See also: Is Gen Z the most conservative generation in history?]
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Parenting influencers are now more self-aware, claiming to "respect" their children's "boundaries". But this type of content can never be ethical.

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Jane Halterman is trying to break a habit. For the past year, the first thing she does after waking up is check the YouTube channel of her favorite family vloggers to see if they have uploaded new content. But she is starting to rethink this morning routine since one of her favorite influencers, Ruby Franke, was arrested and charged with child abuse. Halterman worries her viewership is part of a bigger problem, but even with those concerns, she can't quit cold turkey.

"Honestly, it's like an addiction," Halterman, 30, says. "Habits take time to break."

Franke was, until a few weeks ago, best known as the Utah mom of six behind the YouTube channel 8 Passengers, which boasted more than 2 million followers. Franke rose to online fame by sharing videos detailing her family life and parenting strategies. Some of those videos raised viewers' eyebrows, like when Franke's 5-year-old daughter forgot to bring her lunch to school and Franke refused to bring the child food. "Hopefully no one steps in and gives her a lunch," Franke says. "Then she's not going to learn from the natural outcome."

On Sept. 1, Franke and her business partner were charged with multiple accounts of aggravated child abuse after her 12-year-old son escaped to a neighbor's house appearing to be malnourished and have open wounds. Police found Franke's 10-year-old daughter appearing similarly malnourished. Franke's arrest (and the subsequent deep dives done by online sleuths into her past content) has reignited recent debates around the ethics and monetary complexities of family vlogging and child influencers - and it has some viewers questioning their own allegiances.

Franke is part of a sprawling family social media apparatus in which her parents and all four of her siblings have their own dedicated YouTube channels, with combined followers around 5.5 million and views in the billions. Halterman found their content fascinating. It even made her feel closer to her faith, as both she and the Frankes are Mormon. "They looked perfect," she says. But since Franke's arrest, Halterman wonders if her interest in family vloggers is part of the problem. "I now see it for what it is - exploitation of these minor [children] and voyeurism on my part." She's wrestling with what to do next and why she became so interested in the first place. Is it possible to ethically continue to watch family channels? Or does she need to cut it off completely? She hasn't decided yet, but she's watching less than she was before news of Franke's arrest.

Annie, 20, started watching family channels during coronavirus lockdowns. It was a lonely time, she says, and she liked seeing how other people were living. She especially liked the LaBrant family, whose channel has 13 million YouTube subscribers, but that was before the LaBrants baited viewers into thinking their toddler daughter had cancer in 2021. A video titled " She got diagnosed with cancer. (documentary) " opened with the LaBrant parents talking about their toddler daughter going to the emergency room before eventually segueing into a story about an unrelated child's fight with cancer. "That really rubbed me the wrong way," says Annie, who spoke on the condition that only her first name be used to protect her privacy. "Then the [Ruby] Franke stuff happened. I don't think I will ever watch a family channel again. I've unfollowed all of them."

For fans of family channels, Franke's arrest is the latest puncture in the veneer of perfection that influencers make their living portraying. Jo Piazza, host of the podcast "Under the Influence" which examines the culture of mom-fluencers, says the industry is being questioned and regulated in ways it wasn't before. "At first mom-fluencers were a joke and then they started to be taken seriously because it's a multibillion-dollar business," she says. "Now we're finally looking at them with a critical eye and they deserve that critical eye when they have so much influence and power over the people that are consuming their content." Piazza points to the recently passed Illinois law protecting the earnings of influencer kids as an outcome of the new evaluations viewers - and legislators - are making when it comes to family vlogging.

Chloe Comstock, 22, has watched some of her favorite influencers topple - the Shaytards (a family with 4.76 million YouTube subscribers whose dad was embroiled in a cheating scandal), Colleen Ballinger (the YouTuber who responded to allegations of child grooming by singing her denials while strumming a ukulele), and now, of course, Franke.

Before their downfalls, Comstock liked watching their videos out of pure fascination. "I saw it as a documentary I could watch every night," she says. Most of the big family channels document the lives of religious families with many children, which was interesting to Comstock because it was so far from her own reality in a small, liberal family in California.

But now, Comstock can't stomach the same channels she used to love. She worries about the privacy of the children and the reality of their family life and the long-term effects of being featured in what amounts to a self-produced reality show.

She hopes Franke's arrest could mark a turning point in the family vlogging industry. But realistically, she's not sure if it's possible at this point.

"I think there's too much of a market for it," she says, as family channels are a pillar of the multibillion-dollar parent influencing industry.

Comstock has decided to stop following her old favorite family channels the way she used to. She's found a new way: through Reddit snark communities that chronicle the vloggers' downfalls. In fact, Comstock is one of more than 24,000 new subscribers who have joined the r/8passengersnark subreddit. The community has raked in 15.7 million views since Franke's arrest.

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As family vloggers rack up controversies, some followers can't quit them

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With the arrest of 8Passenger family vlogger Ruby Franke on child abuse charges, some followers fear their viewership adds to the problem.

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Why Family and Children’s Youtube Channels are Problematic

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Parents are free to record their child and post videos for everyone to see with minimal laws regulating it. Child labour laws didn’t even apply to Youtube, until after the darkest side of family Youtube channels was shown.

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Ask anyone who knew me in middle school and they'll tell you that I grew up on family vlogging channels. Whether it was Bratayley, The ACE Family or The LaBrant Fam, those vlogs were my not-so-secret obsession. Each afternoon, I had a ritual of getting home from school, grabbing a snack and lying down in bed to view the newest "daily vlog" posted to YouTube by one of these families. I watched eagerly as they went on family vacations, sent their kids to school and did other normal family activities. Regardless of how boring the content may sound, I drank up every second of it.

Thankfully I've grown out of that hyperfixation, but many of these channels still have millions of subscribers, a large portion of whom are devoted fans who hang on these families' every activity. Due to their immense success, some of these channels have even gone as far as to release merchandise, organize meet and greets and find other avenues to connect with their fans. Amid the success, the families in question have made millions of dollars, all from simply picking up a camera and filming their daily lives.

The playful vlogs, packed meet and greets, and financial success, however, are only part of a much larger, darker story.

Over the past several years, the curtain has begun to be lifted over many of these "wholesome" family vloggers, and the picture-perfect image that was plastered all over the internet for years on end has been torn to shreds. Issues such as child exploitation, privacy violations and religious prejudice have been brought into the limelight as fans have begun to see the truth behind the light-hearted vlogs they used to enjoy.

There is no family, however, who has fallen apart quite so tragically as the " 8 Passengers." A Mormon family of eight living in Utah, mother and father Ruby and Kevin Franke began vlogging in 2015 and amassed over 2 million subscribers over the next several years. In 2022, their channel was deleted from YouTube. Fans have speculated as to why, but the most obvious reason arises from the intense scrutiny the family has been subjected to regarding the Frankes' controversial parenting habits.

But wait - doesn't every parent have a right to raise their child the way they see fit? Though the answer is yes in theory, the strategies employed by the Frankes are not your typical harmless disciplinary practices. Ruby Franke would regularly take away "food privileges," threaten to destroy her children's prized possessions and even force her children to sleep on the floor because they had lost their "bed privileges," all while thrusting a camera in their face. One particularly concerning moment that sticks out to viewers is the time when the Frankes' 6-year-old daughter forgot to pack a lunch for school, and Ruby Franke insisted that - instead of bringing her one - she must go hungry because it is the " natural consequence " of her action.

Over the years, viewership has continued to dwindle. Many have chosen to unsubscribe or have even taken their discomfort a step further by making formal complaints to Child Protective Services. In fact, it has now been reported that CPS has made at least 15 visits to the Franke after some viewers launched a change.org petition to call attention to the issue. Last week, years of controversy culminated in the arrest of Ruby Franke - along with her business partner, Jodi Hildebrandt, with whom she ran the infamous parenting advice company known as " ConneXions." Both were taken into custody under suspicion of multiple counts of aggravated child abuse.

The details themselves are - to put it lightly - disturbing. The police were initially alerted to the area after Ruby Franke's youngest son climbed out of a window and knocked on a neighbor's door, asking for food and water. According to reports, he was clearly injured and malnourished. After authorities arrived, another young child, also injured and malnourished, was found in the same home, and both were taken to the hospital for treatment.

The internet was understandably shocked. No one had ever assumed that such intense abuse was going on behind closed doors. It made me and viewers who had speculated for years about "8 Passengers" wonder what red flags they may have missed. Were the kids always suffering in silence? Should authorities have intervened sooner?

Unfortunately, while the Frankes' life was relatively public, they did an incredibly effective job of masking their emotional and physical abuse as a parenting style rooted in respect, "truth" and religious authority. They explained away the way they treated their children as a response to their "selfishness" and "entitlement," rather shocking adjectives used to describe children under the age of 10. Though audience members were concerned, they were able to shrug off their worry by amounting Ruby Franke's disciplinary practices to a way of life that they may disagree with but was not unheard of. In fact, a common thread that runs between many popular family vlogging channels is a core tenant of religious faith and authority, beliefs that the children are expected to abide by, no matter what.

The number of families who hold similar values to the Frankes have continued to grow like weeds, overtaking not only YouTube but also platforms such as TLC. Perhaps one of the most notorious examples is the Duggar family, whose life was intimately monitored by the public through their hit reality TV show, "19 Kids and Counting." Though the Frankes appear on the surface to be far less religious than the Duggars (which, to some extent, they are), the idea that there is a religious hierarchy within the household that the children must respect at all costs rings true for both families.

In the Duggar home, it was clear that father Jim Bob Duggar's word was "law", the same way that the Frankes expected their children to obey them, no matter what. The Duggars have (thankfully) not stooped to child abuse, but the toxic side effects of such absolute religious authority have still seeped into the family's day-to-day life. The family's eldest son, Josh Duggar, has been thrown into the public eye over and over again, once for sexual abuse allegations regarding his sisters and again for his criminal trial, which culminated with him being imprisoned for possession of child pornography. It was a disturbing turn of events, but it did not shock viewers in the way one might expect. Such stringent religious authority within both the church and household environment has been known to breed abusers. In a way, viewers had been expecting something like this from the Duggars.

Of course, it's possible to run a household that values religion and religious authority without becoming a breeding ground for abuse, and cases like the Duggars and the Frankes are rare. However, when parents are conditioned to believe that their authority is absolute, the lines between right and wrong can become increasingly blurred, and as the rules and punishments become more and more controlling, it's the kids who are stuck on the receiving end of what can turn into physical and emotional abuse.

This is only amplified by the online image these families have created for themselves and, in turn, have to maintain. Whether it's family vlogs or a wildly successful television show, in order for these families to keep up their current levels of success, they must uphold the religious, authoritative image that caused them to become popular in the first place. So, they feed into it, not only making things worse for their children but also adding to the illusion that families like this are happy, functional and successful. The Duggars even took this facade a step further, going as far as to condemn the Frankes publicly, once again attempting to convince the general public that their way of life is harmless, no matter what "other families" - in this case, "8 Passengers" - may be like behind closed doors.

Why exactly are these families so intent on upholding this facade? Merely because people are fascinated by what they do not understand, and these religious families are intent on using their "unique" lifestyle as a means to make a profit, even if it comes at the price of their children's safety. In the case of the Frankes, this effort to maintain a religious, authoritative image is abundantly clear in the "ConneXions" parenting advice company that Ruby Franke and Hildebrandt ran together. What appears on the surface to be a resource for mitigating conflict within families is actually a twisted methodology that encourages the abusive behaviors the Frankes were exhibiting. According to "ConneXions" experts, children are not "entitled" to anything and, as their parent, you do not "need" to give them food, water, access to medical care or any of the other necessities that parents are legally required to provide. The only thing they "need" is God's love, and until they have that, nothing else you give them will work. Ruby Franke and Hildebrandt have even been cited saying that "behaviors" such as depression, anxiety and disordered eating are signs that a child is not "living in truth" and that, as a parent, you must take everything away from the child in question - school, friends, social media, etc. - in order to stop " enabling " these "selfish" and "entitled" behaviors.

Thankfully, "ConneXions" materials have been banned from all platforms, but that does not reverse the pervasiveness of the foundation's message, as well as its possible implications. Just as the Duggars have tried time and time again to convince us that the way they live their life is best, the Frankes have used "ConneXions" as another means by which to sell their lifestyle of religious authority to us. Amid the online chaos, their "teachings" have gotten crazier and crazier, eventually culminating in the shocking display of abuse that led me to sit down and write this article in the first place. The dangerous combination of a religious, fundamentalist household and an online sphere that demands creators to bring something unique to the table may have just forced the Frankes over the edge.

Again, these kinds of cases are rare, but I caution anyone reading this who is thinking to themselves that families like the Frankes or the Duggars exist in a vacuum: They do not. Many other religious family vloggers exhibit the same values that Ruby Franke forced onto her children for years and plastered all over the internet. Though they may not be explicitly abusive toward their kids, there is still plenty of reason to proceed with caution when consuming their content. It's the viewers' attention that these creators crave the most, and, while we can't see what's going on behind closed doors, it is within our power to withhold the viewer feedback that can feed into these abusive behaviors. Family channels like this may always exist, but by not consuming their content, we may be able to prevent the fame and authority from going to the next parent's head.
Daily Arts Writer Rebecca Smith can be reached at rebash@umich.edu.

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It's time to take family channels off their pedestal

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The downfall of popular family channel "8 Passengers" reveals the dark truth behind some family vlog channels.

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On Wednesday, Aug. 29, Ruby Franke, known as the mother in the infamous YouTube channel, "8 Passengers," was on six counts of child abuse. The news broke the internet, flooding comment sections with words like "finally," or "about time," and leaving supporters relieved that after years of abuse, the children of the family would get justice. But how long will it take for the audiences of these channels to realize that these family vloggers do not have the "perfect lives" they claim to have on-screen, and are openly exposed to the menacing nature of the internet?

Viewers have made numerous abuse allegations against family vloggers, but action has rarely been taken. With Franke's recent arrest, the children were to have been malnourished, begging for food and water while sustaining open wounds covered in duct tape. , "8 Passengers" have showcased sending one of their sons to a wilderness therapy camp after pulling a harmless prank on his younger brother, taking their kids' beds away and refusing to send their preschool-age daughter a lunch. Abuse appears in many other forms on YouTube, including emotional and verbal. For example, the LaBrant Family their eldest daughter, who was six-years-old at the time, stating they would take her dog away, causing her to cry as her parents filmed her reaction. Additionally, the LaBrants pulled their eldest out of school in order for her to help take care of her three younger siblings. No child should have to take in such an immense responsibility or feel obligated to pose for the camera while enduring emotional harm.

As a child, like many other 21st-century kids, I frequently browsed YouTube for the eye-catching thumbnails targeting young viewers, such as trips to Disneyland, the "Eat it or Wear It" trend and more. As I matured, I began to grow suspicious and encounter obvious issues in many family channels, who often have over one million subscribers. The naivety of kids like me tuning into daily vlogs provides these families with the perfect opportunity to make a profit off of their own children. As minors, most of the kids behind their parents' cameras do not have the ability to give consent, with these daily videos violating their privacy. An adult posting their "day in the life" videos, regarding personal topics, choose to share their lives with the internet, out of the children's free will. While nothing is wrong with sharing a funny video or an adorable picture of your son at his first birthday party with friends and family, children constantly being in front of cameras and having their faces spread around social media for everyone to see, the line should be drawn.

Multiple channels, including "8 Passengers," filmed their kids in times of crisis, such as sickness and injuries and even forced them to speak on uncomfortable topics such as puberty. Instead of these parents offering love and consolidation during these formative times, their kids' vulnerability is exposed for people to witness. The obvious discomfort reflected through the screen is enough to demonstrate their inability to refuse air time. A child could tell their mother that they do not want to be filmed, but they ultimately have no power over whether the video goes up or not. In the future, these children may feel embarrassed or troubled that some of their most difficult moments were documented and posted on such a large platform, but that video will never go away. When a parent prioritizes picking up their vlog camera before their car keys while claiming to "rush" to the emergency room to help their hurting child, a red flag should wave immediately. Yet, some do just about anything for money; these parents' priority is not their children - it is money.

Moreover, publicly releasing a child's image on social media discloses personal information to dangerous users online. Children are left open to the view of countless pedophiles who have followed their lives for a large fraction of their childhood. The thought of a newborn baby growing up on YouTube in the eyes of a predator is sickening and should reveal a larger issue in the media as a whole. According to a by the Wall Street Journal, Stanford University and the University of Massachusetts, Instagram has turned into a "vast pedophile network," making the harm of sharing one's children on the media extremely evident. The threat of " digital kidnapping ," when a stranger on the internet steals a photo of a minor and pretends to be the child or its parents, arises through every post. With the growth of Artificial Intelligence, cybercriminals have altered photos and have staged kidnappings by voice cloning, created an "older" version of a child or manipulated a photo to an inappropriate state. The dangers of posting a child on social media continue to grow with the expansion of technology.

In August, Illinois passed the country's first aiming to protect child influencers from exploitation, providing financial compensation for minors under 16 who appear in any sort of documentation. This moves child safety in the right direction, giving children rights to the money they made for their parents. In the age of social media, parent content creators can use their children to generate an income, but where the money really goes is a question left unanswered.

Not all family channels have a poor reputation, and some may be genuine, treating their children with proper care behind the scenes. However, this does not counteract the fact that they lack the right to consent, have been victims of exploitation, work unwillingly for financial purposes or are unable to escape the additional dangers of the media. Family vloggers have attracted a vast amount of subscribers from around the world, targeting society's most vulnerable age group. Children featured on these vlogs and social media face the constant threat of monetary utilization, abuse from their parents and uncertainty of their presence online. Whether it be mistreatment behind the cameras or exposure to media threats, the internet is a place full of unknowns, and nothing is ever erased.

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Behind the Cameras: The Truth and Dangers of Family Vloggers

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On Wednesday, Aug. 29, Ruby Franke, known as the mother in the infamous YouTube channel, "8 Passengers," was arrested on six counts of child abuse. The news broke the internet, flooding comment sections with words like "finally," or "about time," and leaving supporters relieved that after years of abuse, the children of the family would...

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A virtual preliminary hearing for Ruby Franke - the family vlogger charged with six counts of felony child abuse - turned into a viral spectacle Friday after more than 1,000 people tried to join the livestream and dozens of people flocked to TikTok and YouTube to share video livestreams, recaps and analysis.

It's become the latest legal case - joining Gwyneth Paltrow's ski crash trial and the Johnny Depp-Amber Heard defamation trial - to captivate audiences online and inspire a flurry of nonexpert takes across social media. On TikTok, the hashtag #rubyfranke saw 3,000 posts and more than 300 million views in the last seven days. Search interest in Franke also spiked on YouTube the day of the hearing, according to Google Trends.

While Franke's not an A-list celebrity, her hearing drew attention from those curious to witness the dramatic fall of a once-popular YouTuber, as well as those outraged that a "momfluencer" who built a following touting her parenting online is now in a jumpsuit for allegedly abusing her own children.

The intense irony of this case, some commentators say, is bringing renewed attention to a dark underside of family vlogging channels. In recent months, a growing chorus of voices online have spoken out about the dangers of " sharenting," or when content creators share their children's lives on social media for profit. In August, Illinois passed the country's first law protecting child influencers. Advocates are hoping other states will follow.

The Utah-based Franke grew an audience of over 2.5 million viewers with her now-removed family channel "8 Passengers," which she launched in 2015 with her husband, Kevin. It featured their six children. She frequently collaborated on controversial parenting and relationship advice videos with Jodi Hildebrandt and her life coaching service, ConneXions.

Franke and Hildebrandt were arrested on Aug. 30 and were each charged with six counts of felony child abuse by the Washington County Attorney's Office. The arrest came after law enforcement found one ofFranke's children with open wounds after escaping from Hildebrandt's home. One of Franke's other childrenwas found in similar malnourished condition at Hildebrandt's home. Four of the six children are minors, who have now been placed under Utah's Division of Child and Family Services.

Attorneys for Hildebrandt and Franke did not immediately respond to requests for comment on Tuesday.

"The fact that she [Franke] went from this high peak of being YouTube-famous and being this quote-unquote parenting guru, going from that extreme to the extreme allegations of aggravated child abuse ... and then seeing her in her jumpsuit in prison," said Bonnie King, a TikTok and YouTube commentator who focuses on true crime and family vlogging content. "It's just such an extreme fall from where she was online. I think that draws a lot of people's fascination with the case."

King tried and failed to join the live hearing herself - so she followed along by joining the livestream of a YouTuber who gave verbal updates on what he was hearing from the virtual courtroom. She then made her own viral TikTok video commenting on what happened.

Laurel Cook, a social marketing researcher and associate professor at West Virginia University, said the shocking nature of Franke's case is pushing the wider public to be more skeptical of parents who profit from using their children for content.

"What's really a silver lining in all this is that a lot of people are putting in free hours as quote-unquote internet sleuths and bringing new attention to a lot of the content Ruby has already provided freely," Cook said. "So now all of us, including myself, are rewatching this content with a new perspective. And that's making us even more shocked in light of the recent allegations."

Now all of us, including myself, are rewatching this content with a new perspective. And that's making us even more shocked in light of the recent allegations.
-Laurel Cook, a social marketing researcher and associate professor at West Virginia University
Many commentators online noted that child influencers don't have the same rights and regulations that child actors typically do.

"A lot of people not only are recognizing the importance of this and how this needs to take precedence because these kids are the pioneers of a new form of cruelty against children in the child labor industry," said YouTube commentator Tezzmosis, who prefers to go by his social media handle to keep his full identity private.

Tezzmosis relayed information from the hearing in a live commentary video, which amassed a modest following of several hundred viewers at a time throughout the three-hour stream.

He said he believes much of the public interest in the case comes from the clear disconnect it illustrates between the "perfect image" a parenting influencer can present online versus their family's reality behind the scenes.

"They've been on [authorities'] radar for a couple of years," he said, referring to the news that police had previously received and responded to reports made about Franke's alleged treatment of her children.

"But being from an affluent family and having this notoriety in such a way, I think it was so hard for people to believe that something so bad could be going on beyond the surface," Tezzmosis added.

Both King and Tezzmosis said they plan to continue their social media coverage of Franke's court appearances to the best of their ability, whether by attending the hearings themselves or following along with updates from news sources.

A judge ruled last week that Franke and Hildebrandt will continue to be held without bail until their next scheduled court appearance on Sept. 21.

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Why family vlogger Ruby Franke's downfall has become such a spectacle

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"I think it was so hard for people to believe that something so bad could be going on beyond the surface," said a creator who was among those posting commentary about Franke's hearing.

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Growing up, my mom always prided herself in not using social media, so much so that it often made me eye-roll. But as an adult, I'm grateful that my mom didn't use social media to share my life online. Today, the lives of many children are shared online in a way they cannot control. 75% of parents share content of their children online, most of the time using their kids' real names which makes the information more easily identifiable.

When parents use their kids to create online content, these children's wellbeing becomes secondary to the views and money they garner. And more alarmingly, children's consent about what their parents post about them is removed, leaving them vulnerable. As an audience, we need to be mindful of the influence these family vloggers have on us. We should consider their harmful impact and think about how we share content that includes the children in our lives.

The Harms of Family Vlogging

Children today are often featured online before they even know enough to navigate the internet or understand its implications. One parenting blogger shared that even when her teenage daughter asked her not to share her life online anymore, she felt as though she couldn't stop because it had become a part of her online identity.

But sharing children's lives online causes issues even deeper than that. With the rise of platforms like YouTube, many families even vlog their children's day-to-day lives. These vlogging channels, while they may seem harmless, cause a lot more harm than we may realize.

In 2021, mommy vlogger Jordan Cheyenne accidentally left a clip of her coaching her son to cry in a YouTube video about their dog's medical diagnosis. Another family vlogging YouTube channel known as the Ace Family came under scrutiny in 2019 when Austin McBroom bought a little girl a phallic-shaped sucker.

In 2018, another family vlogger "pranked" his kids by putting laxatives in their ice cream and filmed them in the bathroom even as they tried to close the door. The footage showed his kids crying out in pain saying their stomachs hurt. Most people see how those channels are a problem, but even less obviously abusive family vlogging content can harm kids.

And in 2017, one vlogging family came under fire after "pranking" their kids with disappearing ink. The parents sprayed the ink on the bedroom carpet of their two sons, then screamed at them for ruining the carpet. The boys started crying, desperately trying to tell their parents they didn't do it. The so-called "prank" was severely emotionally abusive.

Fame Over Wellbeing

Many modern-day children google their names only to see years of content including them already online from parents, schools and extracurriculars. The Atlantic reported experiences from kids who were shocked to find their sports scores, photos and personal details available on the internet for anyone to find - all without their consent. Family vlogging takes this non-consensual sharing to the extreme by sharing hours of footage of their young children. They make this behavior seem okay or even desirable to their audience.

The Ace Family, for example, often flexes the wealth their family vlogging has earned them. Sharing pictures of the children in our lives may not be outright abusive like the pranks some family vlogging channels have done. It may not be as invasive as some family vlogs. But it still takes away consent and the ability of children to shape their own online image.

Modeling Consent

As viewers of online content, we need to be mindful of who we support. When parents use children's tears to garner views or invade their children's privacy, we have a responsibility not to enable this behavior with our views. We must recognize how this content influences what we think is okay to share about children we know.

We have an obligation to change our culture and model consent to our own children. This starts by talking to the kids in our lives when we share a post about them or with their picture, and what that might mean for their online image and safety. By creating a space of informed consent and limiting what aspects of their lives we share, we can give them the agency to share their lives as they see fit when they're old enough.

The children we know, whether they are our own children, our siblings or family friends, deserve loved ones who prioritize their safety and wellbeing over an online presence. The next time I talk to my mom, I'll thank her for considering my wellbeing over her online persona. In the meantime, I'll make sure to question the media I see and model consent to the children in my life by not sharing their life online.
@cushman_kcellen

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Cushman: Family Vlogging Shows Us the Dangers of Sharing Our Kids Online

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Growing up, my mom always prided herself in not using social media, so much so that it often made me eye-roll. But as an adult, I'm grateful that my mom didn't use social media to share my life online. Today, the lives of many children are shared online in a way they cannot control....

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photo credit: Natalia Favila Inacua

While scrolling on any social media, whether it's Youtube, Tiktok, or even Instagram, it has become quite hard to avoid family vloggers: the stereotypical, seemingly 'perfect' families filming almost every step of raising their children on camera.

Most family influencers make similar content, and this usually consists of challenges, pranks, Q&A videos, vlogs, and other viral trends.

The vast majority of family influencers are extremely problematic, and their young children should not be exposed to the internet with all the negativity that comes with it. Several of these families post content that is extremely exploitative towards their kids and is an overall invasion of the privacy of their children.

The root of most of the issues that come with posting content of children on social media is the fact that they are unable to consent. And while the parents can give their consent, the children are likely to not understand what it truly means to their current lives and their futures.

A few channels get extra personal, filming their children in moments that should normally be kept private. These moments include their mistakes, their breakdowns or tantrums, and other moments that could create an embarrassing digital footprint for their children in the future.

An example of this type of oversharing content creator is 'The LaBrant Fam' on Youtube, an extremely popular channel with 15 million subscribers. The family consists of husband and wife Cole and Savannah LaBrant and their four children; Everleigh, Zealand, Posie, and Sunday.

Regarding the potential for cancer diagnosis for one of their children, the family made one of their most controversial videos. The LaBrants created a false impression in the minds of their viewers by titling the video "She got diagnosed with cancer (A documentary)," even though she had not received a diagnosis.

Using something like childhood cancer as clickbait is disgusting and extremely exploitative. Fans shared this opinion, and the family received tons of backlash.

Another questionable vlog the LaBrants created was a prank video where they told their daughter Everleigh that they would be giving her dog away. The video shows Everleigh hiding her face from the camera and crying as they explain why they are giving it away.

This video has since been deleted, but once posted online it will never truly go away. It will inevitably be accessible somehow if someone wants to find it, even when these children grow older.

The worst of the worst of family vloggers was named '8 Passengers', starting in 2015 consisting of the now arrested mother Ruby Franke, her husband, and their six children. At the channel's peak, it reached about two million followers.

Franke's most criticized video highlighted her harsh parenting styles. In one video, she was threatening her sons they would 'lose their privilege to eat dinner' if they continued playing, and talking about how her 6-year-old daughter should have to go hungry after forgetting to bring her lunch to school.

In early 2023, one of Franke's kids escaped home, malnourished and allegedly wounded. According to CBS News, to follow, Ruby Franke was arrested on four counts of aggravated child abuse.

This is just a few examples of the insane content that many of these families produce, but there have been several other instances of sketchy content produced about children. The world of family vlogging demands an examination of its impact on privacy and the well-being of individuals involved. It is extremely important to be conscious of the ethical considerations surrounding family vlogs.

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Cut the Camera: Controversy behind family influencers

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photo credit: Natalia Favila Inacua While scrolling on any social media, whether it's Youtube, Tiktok, or even Instagram, it has become quite hard to avoid family vloggers: the stereotypical, seemingly 'perfect' families filming almost every step of raising their children on camera.

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YouTube channels belonging to American content creator Ruby Franke were recently scrubbed from the site after the YouTuber was charged with child abuse. Franke was known for making parenting videos on her YouTube channel, 8 Passengers. Her videos frequently featured content on the family and her six children.

Police in Utah said the charges were laid after Franke's 12-year-old son climbed out of the window of a home and went to a neighbour to ask for food and water. Police said the boy and his younger sister were found emaciated and required hospitalization.

As blogs and live journals gather internet dust, vlogging has emerged as a new source of intimate entertainment, and for creators, potential income. However, they also raise serious questions about exploitation and the privacy rights of children.

What is vlogging?

Vlogs are videos, usually published through social media, that share the creator's personal thoughts and experiences. Family vlogs like Franke's are a popular form of this medium, where parents take viewers into their homes. The content might involve taking viewers along on the family's daily routine. Family vlogging channels upload videos sharing significant milestones, morning routines and preparing for school.

Many might feel uneasy about content creation that showcases private family life. However, at the same time, vlogs might offer families agency and alternative means of making ends meet at a time of stagnant wages and soaring living costs.

Thinking about vlogging as a kind of social reproduction allows us to think through the double-edged sword of content creation. Social reproduction refers to the labour of lifemaking: the day-to-day work of care, education and sustenance. Feminist theorists use this term to think about the ways in which caring labour supports and shapes our social, political and economic world.

Social reproduction is " the fleshy, messy and indeterminate stuff of everyday life." It involves the responsibilities and relationships involved in maintaining daily life.

A response to the pressures of parenting

Family vlogging did not develop in a vacuum. Instead, the trend towards "mumpreneurs" emerged from within a care crisis. The cost of living is rising, wages are stagnating, and government benefits do not provide the support families need. Parents - and mothers in particular - are facing significant pressures when it comes to caring for children and the household.

There has been a rise in gender equity in the workforce, however there is still huge inequity when it comes to work in the home. Women are working unprecedented (paid and unpaid) hours, and are often being told they are failing at both.

As a response to these pressures, mothers developed their own online communities to express the highs and lows of parenting. These communities began as "mommy blogs," but have increasingly moved to vlog format over the years.

Family vlogs can offer intimate counter-narratives to the expectations of parenthood. Mothers can share the anxieties and pressures they face and offer support to one another.

Commodifying families

However, there can be downsides to the trend. Many family vlogs are highly curated productions that can perpetuate ideas about what constitutes "good" motherhood, rather than challenge racialized, gendered and classist ideals of motherhood. In this way, vlogs are less about connection and more about commodification.

The implications of this monetization are complex. Performing socially desirable forms of motherhood can reproduce racial, sexual and class-based exclusion around who does and who does not count as a good mother. Dominant ideas of "motherhood" are shaped by heterosexual family structures, and there is a long history of surveilling and disciplining racialized parents.

YouTube creators depend on viewership and subscribers to monetize their content. They also use YouTube advertisements, sponsorships and brand deals to generate income. While some creators can make millions of dollars, most do not. Many are precarious workers with fluctuating incomes determined by YouTube's algorithm.

On the other hand, content creation allows mothers to rebel against economic insecurity by making their motherhood a source of income. While this offers a means of paying the bills, who benefits and who doesn't when a certain version of the family is commodified?

Kids and clickbait: What is the law?

Exploitation is twofold for family vloggers. Firstly, in the United States, parents are considered responsible for protecting their underage children's privacy information and consent. Many influencers live or move to the U.S. for creator funds and better networking opportunities. This can become an issue when parents exploit their children while also being in charge of providing consent.

Secondly, social media algorithms determine whether a video becomes popular on a platform, which prioritizes content that gains the most views.

The algorithms can change without warning, so creators never know if their content will remain popular. If family vloggers choose to stop showcasing their children on their channels, they might lose viewership and priority within the algorithm.

Existing U.S. laws are unequipped to handle this new form of child labour. The Coogan Act attempts to protect the income of child performers, but it does not account for the unique conditions of child social media stars.

Most recently, Illinois is the first U.S. state to pass a law to ensure child influencers featured in monetized videos receive financial compensation. The law will take effect in July 2024, and there is hope that other states will follow suit.

This is a good start, but it is not enough. Policymakers should also look at the steps France has taken to protect child influencers. In 2020, the country passed a law that gives children the right to be forgotten. This means that child influencers can request that the platform removes content featuring them without their parent's permission.

Laws need to include more than financial compensation for child influencers. There need to be regulations protecting children's privacy, rights to have content removed and preventing children from being overworked. There also needs to be a call for greater regulation and transparency of social media algorithms that control and manipulate what is profitable.

Whether it is entertainment, exploitation or employment, family vlogging is a reminder of the complex interconnections between care work and wage work. As the households of strangers stream across our screens, parents and lawmakers must think carefully about the impacts on families and children.

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Family vlogs can entertain, empower and exploit

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Vlogging has emerged as a new source of intimate entertainment, and for creators, potential income. However, they also raise serious questions about exploitation and the privacy rights of children.

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In 2011, along with tens of thousands of others around the world, a 13-year-old girl named Allie started a YouTube channel. (I've changed her name at her request.) She had grown up with the platform, founded in 2005, and she'd been dreaming of making her own videos for years. Like many of the YouTubers she watched, Allie was, and remains, a bit of an obsessive. Her greatest love as a preteen was a collection of Bratz-esque fantasy dolls, a group of monster-themed high-school friends who, she felt, reflected her offbeat aesthetic. She eagerly followed, and yearned to join, the young community of vloggers - a term that itself was in its infancy - springing up around the dolls.

Finally, after years of watching and a few false starts, Allie and her best friend launched a channel of their own. Their initial plan was to write and produce a series using their dolls as their actors, but after she posted a few videos reviewing her growing collection, she fell in love with that format and shifted direction.

Allie began posting just as toy-review channels were becoming a full-fledged phenomenon on the growing video-sharing platform. In a typical video, a child, an adult, or most often a pair of disembodied hands will open a new toy and play with it or put it together, usually gushing over each feature as they describe it. The content of these videos is formulaic and fairly inane. As YouTube has become more competitive and commercial, most of the creators are either fanatics, or sponsored by big brands, or both. The "reviews" most often feel like low-budget infomercials written by children - because, you know, they are. Still, they are insanely popular with young kids, who respond more to novelty and enthusiasm than to nuance and originality. Thousands, probably tens of thousands of these channels exist, but viewer communities tend to coalesce around certain brands - as Allie's did. After a few months of work, her video on a newly released collection went viral among the doll collection's obsessors. In seven months, she had 15,000 subscribers. In a year, she had close to 100,000.

Her parents knew that she was making YouTube videos - she'd had a similar channel a few years before that never took off - but they didn't take much interest until her viewership skyrocketed. Her mother encouraged her to monetize the channel. Since 2008, YouTube has allowed users to enable advertising before their videos play, and to earn 55 percent of the profits they yield. Monetizing is as easy as checking a box, and earnings are deposited in a Google AdSense account.

Allie set up an account in her mother's name, and before long, she was averaging a few thousand dollars a month. The money piled into the AdSense account, where it sat, untouched and unavailable to Allie, presumably being kept for her until adulthood.

But as her success skyrocketed, her spirits plummeted. As Allie's popularity and profits increased, her mother started pressuring her to work long hours filming and editing.

"I was staying up all night editing videos," she said. "I wouldn't be able to wake up in the morning, and my mom would be like, 'oh, you're so lazy.' But I was just working, working, working. It was never enough.

"She wanted me to be famous enough and make enough money where I could provide for the entire family," Allie said. "She would be able to quit her jobs; my dad would be able to quit his job ... She always told me that she would never touch a cent, and then it became, 'I want 30 percent; I want 50 percent; I'm owed this.'" (Allie's mother didn't respond to repeated requests for comment.)

Allie developed an anxiety disorder, and eventually left her mother's house without a word to stay with her father, abandoning the doll collection she'd long begun to resent.

Family vlogging has ballooned on YouTube in the last five years. Parents and their children turn the camera on as they play, craft, bake, go on trips, or review toys, as Allie did, and kids all over the world watch in droves. Collectively, the top family vlogs bring in half a billion views a week, and millions in revenue.

"YouTube really sort of appealed to the geek side of me," said Melissa Hunter, who started MommyandGracieShow with her daughter, then 8, in 2012. She loved the mines of data she could gather, analyze, and manipulate on the platform. "And then I started helping other people who were starting channels, or who wanted to start channels and didn't know how."

The mother daughter team mostly review but occasionally dabble in lifestyle vlogging, going on outings, playing games, or participating in challenges (a huge part of YouTube culture that goes far beyond the Cinnamon Challenge you remember from 2012).

Hunter co-founded the Family Video Network (FVN) three years ago. FVN began as a proprietary network, the subsidiary of a multi-channel network (MCN) called Creative Nation, which works directly with YouTube - the interlocking ecosystem of these subgroups gets convoluted pretty quickly. Now an MCN itself, FVN acts as an intermediary between YouTube and individual channels, as well as between the channels themselves. It provides expertise and advice, encourages cross-promotion, and creates sponsorship opportunities.

The network only accepts family-friendly producers, and Hunter educates her channels on the inner workings of the industry, and talks to them about the way they manage their children's privacy and exposure to the business. Her brand is built on personal attention, and she is careful only to take on clients whose values and practices she can support.

Hunter thinks carefully about the way she manages her own daughter's fame and earnings. She encourages Gracie, now 13, not to read the comments or get used to the notoriety, and works to balance Gracie's desires and interests with a sense of personal responsibility. "She dictates what - you know, she'll go and pull stuff off the shelves. If there's a priority or if we agreed [to film a certain video], I'll be like, 'Hey, we agreed. Remember, we agreed to do this? Well, we have to do this right now.' And she'll be like, 'Okay, let's go do it.'"

But she acknowledges that her philosophy is probably not the norm. "It seems to me that it's the parents making the decisions, and then telling the kids what they're going to film," she said. "I don't know how much of this is delusion on the parts of the parents, because I've talked to people about, you know, 'Do you think that somewhere down the road your children are going to hate you for this - or feel like, feel exploited?'"

Allie's case is certainly not universal, but it's also not uncommon. This arrangement - in which advertisers pay YouTube, and creators are essentially commissioned - exists outside of the traditional rules for which both labor laws and advertising regulations were written, and this loophole has spawned a gaping chasm, which no one wants to take the responsibility to close.

Typically, child performers work on contracts, and their hours, schooling, and working conditions are strictly controlled. Coogan laws - so named for the 1920s child star whose mother and step-father stole his fortune - also protect a certain percentage of their earnings until adulthood. But YouTube's creators aren't subject to these regulations, so the only thing standing between a child and abuse is a parent.

Many parents join online communities of family vloggers, both on YouTube and outside of it. They share their experiences, ask for advice, and support each other as their families and businesses change. These communities are useful and largely positive, but they can also become an echo chamber of support for parenting perspectives outside the norm. Influencer marketing, in which popular internet personalities are paid to use or endorse products, has been a huge boon, especially for products targeted toward kids and teens, and families can quickly become reliant on the extra income. As their businesses grow, it's tempting to start treating kids like employees, and these pockets of support help justify practices like scripting videos, filming emergency room and dental visits, and homeschooling kids to better accommodate a work schedule. "There are channels making more in a month than some people could ever hope to make in a year, in their life." Hunter said. "So I think some parents are delusional because they don't want to give up the money."

When Hunter posted a video criticizing the industry in one of these private groups, urging parents to check in with their kids about how they were feeling, the thread was immediately flooded with defensive comments. "My thing was, go talk to them," she said. "Have a real heart-to-heart conversation, and, you know, make sure that they understand that it's okay to tell you no, or that it's okay to tell you, 'That makes me uncomfortable.'"

Most parents are roped into vlogging by their kids, and done right, it can be a great opportunity for families to bond. "It's an extra activity that the boys do," said Felicity Kane, whose sons, now 8 and 9, begged her to start a channel for a year and a half, until she caved last fall. "They're having fun, and if they don't want to do it, you know ... we just don't do a video."

Kane's channel is monetized, though comparably very small (about 700 subscribers), and she'd love to see it grow - "that will all go into something for their university, which is awesome" - but ultimately, she just wants her boys to enjoy what they're doing. "They are kids, and they can't think about it from a business perspective. They're not gonna start branding themselves. They still have to just do it when and if they feel like it."

No doubt hoards of kids will come out of this industry no worse for wear, with a host of video-editing skills, a tidy college fund, and a permanent and easily accessible childhood archive. But the potential for abuse is enormous, and at the moment, institutions are doing little to discourage it. Advertisers and YouTube itself share some responsibility for guarding against bad behavior, but the financial incentives, and the potential cost of finding and resolving abusive situations, make each of these groups hesitant to take action.

"At the end of the day, they really don't care," Allie's father said of YouTube and its advertisers. Like most vloggers I spoke to, his daughter had never communicated directly with anyone at the company. "They just want to run their ads at the beginning of a video ... As long as they get their paycheck from their advertisers, they don't really care what happens." YouTube provides community guidelines for content creators and viewers, but while they specifically prohibit explicit material, violence, and copyright infringement, no mention is made of consent, or compensation for people who appear on channels they do not own.

Creator and advertiser pairings are also opaque for both sides. Each selects the other by product category and demographics, and it's rare that either knows where their money came from or where it's going. This black hole of imperfect, algorithmic matching has been the subject of some interrogation lately, after several high-profile advertisers discovered that they were being run before "hate" videos and ISIS recruitment.

But monitoring viewer and creator behavior at that scale is a challenge. YouTube does not have any legal authority over creators, nor do they have the resources to examine and approve the 400 hours of new content uploaded to YouTube every minute. And the viewer reports they typically rely on to catch misconduct are not as effective with an audience overwhelmingly comprised of primary schoolers on Mom's iPad. Still, the platform could do a lot more to develop and promote guidelines for best practices.

"There's no reason why companies can't ... say, you know, we're throwing down the gauntlet and saying if you're going to play on our platform with your content, here is our code of conduct," said Linnette Attai, a compliance expert in kids technology. Without singling out YouTube, she encourages web platforms to self-regulate, and argues that it's historically been fairly effective at protecting kids on various online media.

When approached for comment on these issues, a YouTube spokesperson offered the following statement: "It's inspiring to see that families create content together and start and grow their own businesses on YouTube. We strive to provide all our creators with information on best practices and resources and will continue to make additional resources available."

Allie's channel went dormant for a year and a half, as she regained her confidence and forcefully took back control of the AdSense account linked to her channel.

Last summer, she returned with a video, frankly telling her story. "After all of the years of lying to my fans, it needed to be told," she said of the video, which detailed her years-long struggle with depression, self-harm, and emotional abuse. "Every day, I would see comments like, 'You're so lucky; you're so spoiled' ... in my head I'm like, These kids actually think that I'm living a good life ... I wanted to expose the truth for what it was because I felt like I owed it to everybody."

Her video and others like it hint at the start of a backlash, as the first children of this industry reach adulthood.

"I foresee a ton of very interesting videos like my daughter's popping up within the next four years," her father said. "And there's gonna be some messy ones; some kids who have really been pushed past their limit."

Allie's channel led to years of pain, but she's excited to be making videos again. Like so many other kids on the platform, it was she who grew up watching YouTube; she who fell in love with videos of kids like her; and she who wanted desperately to make her own.

"YouTube was something I've always wanted ... I wanted to be able to do the things I wanted to do ... makeup, funny videos, story time, things like that - just being myself," she said. "It was always for me."

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The Dark Side of YouTube Family Vlogging

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As YouTube becomes big business for families willing to film everything, are the kids adequately protected?

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Sources don't have examples, they are purely statistics and arguments

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Sources are more serious, lack a variety argument. They have more morbid examples, such as human trafficking, etc.

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My only case so far, covers an in depth analysis of Ruby Franke's spiral into chaos.

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Avoiding: Trying to get people to avoid the Family Vlog Life

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Avoiding: Trying to get people to avoid the Family Vlog Life

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Contains controversies and the sources are primarily to take people who have gone through hard ships and show them to the public so they don't get tempted.