As Charlotte and Lisa scramble to get the best college counselor for their rising high school seniors, it eventually becomes so intense that both the moms and children end up spiraling instead. Coming from two teens who just went through the process just a year ago, we remember how conflicting this time can be for rising seniors: choosing where they’ll be for the next four years while dealing with a constant fear of rejection. Many worry they haven’t taken enough APs, have participated in too few extracurriculars, or are even, like Charlotte and Lisa’s children, too well-rounded. Although the show can be outlandish at times, it depicts the real apprehension that many teens and their parents struggle with while going through this process. So, how can you avoid becoming them?

The two of us, a rising sophomore and a rising junior in college, have had contrasting application experiences that radically differed by the approaches that our parents took.

Sophie:

When I watched Charlotte and Lisa panic over landing the best college counselor, it felt bizarrely familiar. They were two glamorous, neurotic mothers barreling into full-blown admissions mania. And their already ambitious kids? Wilted. Numb. Visibly cracking under the weight of their mothers’ motivation.

There was one Christmas, during my junior year of high school, when my stocking was light on candy and heavy on college prep. I unwrapped a shiny SAT/ACT practice guide with a red bow on it, as if it were some sacred gift. “Start early!” my mom said cheerily, as if she had handed me a sweater. I laughed because, well, what else could I do? But deep down, I felt the quiet constriction of something tightening inside of me. A sense that my childhood had officially been declared over.

What I really wanted was a December without deadlines — a moment where she looked at me as her daughter instead of a future applicant. I wanted her to ask me what I was dreaming about, not what I was preparing for.

Esme:

On the other side of the spectrum was the experience I had with my parents. They were never the type to nudge me in particular directions; they sat back while I cultivated pros and cons lists, weighing possible majors and campuses. They made sure that I knew the process was mine and that they were in the stands cheering me on, ready to assist when needed. As a parent, it can be easy to fall victim to catastrophizing every minute detail and become a “momager”, but it’s important to take a step back, at the very least for you and your child’s sanity.

I remember sitting down with my parents in July, fresh off a Zoom with my college counselor, and making a list of schools that I wanted to apply to with my parents. They kept their opinions to themselves, solely butting in when they noticed a school’s English program was too understaffed or the class sizes were too large. They waited for me to come to them, reading my personal essay only when my college counselor and I had perfected it, taking me to the schools that I asked to see, and sitting with me at the kitchen table as I pressed submit.

Though wildly unalike, both of our experiences are common in America’s current culture. Yet while these two approaches might gain similar end results, both journeys were not experienced with equal sanity.

Finding the delicate balance between ensuring your child gets into college and allowing them to make their own decisions is difficult, but not impossible. Having open and continuous conversations about where you want the process to take your teen and what they need in the early days of the application process will save you both many sleepless nights. If Charlotte and Lisa had initiated that sort of conversation before stalking and bribing a college counselor, their children could have avoided a “crash out” entirely.

After acting as a role model to your child since the day they were born, how you behave during the college process is no different. It’s simple enough: overwhelmed parents make stressed-out teens.

Before you go, brush up on what the kids are saying these days.

She took me to the mirror and carefully compared our legs, pointing out how hers touched and mine didn’t — and since that day, I’ve kept careful tabs on the growing and shrinking of the negative space between my thighs. Four years later, it’s only gotten worse. Ever since I’ve found myself swept up in “SkinnyTok,” the stakes have become even higher: God forbid my thigh gap ever disappears. 

“SkinnyTok” and its other social media counterparts are the new faces of an age-old tradition when it comes to women and their weight. Society has had an obsession with our bodies for at least as long as there’s been media. In ancient times, women were sculpted; in medieval times, they were painted; in industrial times, they were stuffed into corsets; and in modern times, they are plastered on billboards and posted on our phone feeds. Recently, social media trends like SkinnyTok and Oatzempic have been gaining immense popularity.

SkinnyTok includes a wide variety of content, ranging from truly well-meaning diet and exercise tips to harmful content that preys on teen girls like me (and all the women whose bodies have been scrutinized their entire lives). On this platform, people share weight loss “tips” and their own journeys. Meanwhile, “Oatzempic” is a dietary hack; it means having oat-based diets, particularly blending oats with water and lime juice to promote weight loss. My FYP and algorithm know me well; I am a teen girl, and I see more than one of these videos a day. And it’s impossible for them not to infiltrate the culture around my eating and my friends. 

Prom is coming up, and just a few weeks ago, my friend told me that she was “prepping.” When I asked her to explain, she said that she was going on a run every day, and having only a protein bar and small dinner. I asked her how she got this idea, and she showed me a video on SkinnyTok. After watching the video that inspired my friend, I was hooked on this account. I scrolled through for an hour, looking at all this woman’s tips and tricks. And when I got up to look in the mirror afterwards, I was about twenty pounds heavier than I was twenty minutes earlier — or at least, that’s how it felt.

Most videos have pretty much the same message: Stories and hacks, often dangerous, on how to lose weight fast. Some videos are meant to serve as motivation. Just today, I watched a woman showing off her body on the treadmill, and the text over the video said, “Do it for the compliments. Do it for the jealous stares. Do it for the concerned looks.” Another video gives insight into how “skinny girls” live. “They view food as optional,” the woman explains, and then goes on to promote a type of jelly that has five calories and is as filling as a full meal — a jelly I tried for a few days before feeling like I was gonna puke.

Those sorts of videos make me feel gluttonous: The woman talking to me has no problem turning down food, and yet I feel as if I’m always stuffing it in my face. Even without an eating disorder, it’s difficult to look away from this content. I get up feeling the need to go to the gym or walk 20,000 steps or maybe skip dinner, and when I don’t do these things, I’m left feeling like a failure.

My friends and I share these videos with each other, spreading the content and falling victim to the perils. Thanks to SkinnyTok, my friends and I got the idea to count our calories in a shared notes app. Obsessively, I searched for the magic number attached to everything I ate during the course of any given day, and if my total got too high, it was time to call it quits. And yet no matter what I do, the message from the other side of the phone screen is clear: The “skinny lifestyle” is never going to be the one I’m leading, and my body is never going to look as good as theirs. 

Even without social media, the idea that girls can never be skinny enough would continue to infiltrate the teenage mind. But social media is particularly adept at spreading a message, and feeding into dark rabbit holes. Social media makes it all the easier to access this message and content; you no longer need to go looking for it, it finds you. It’s constantly in your face, telling you what you’re doing wrong and all the imperfections those wrong actions cause. 

To be sure, there are some truly helpful videos floating around the internet. I learned that, when I get a sweet tooth after dinner, it’s better to eat whipped cream and strawberries instead of ice cream; and I learned that portion control is always healthy, when done right. But most of what festers within trends around dieting never leads to anything good, because the line between healthy and dangerous is almost invisible — and the mind of a teenage girl is delicate, bordering on fragile, bordering on wired-like-a-booby-trap.

Social media is addictive enough, but content about food and weight is even more so. It’s hard to look away, and it turns into an obsession with just the slightest indulgence. What’s worse, too, is that we seek it out. Once one video on the subject pops up, we’re hungry for more. We want to be skinny, and we want to know exactly how to do it.  Everything talked about on SkinnyTok is like a carnival game designed to make us lose; if we girls don’t keep up with the diets and exercise, we surrender all of our progress. 

I wish I could go around eating whatever I want, whenever I want. And I know my friends do too, but society doesn’t allow for it, and social media keeps us in line. As if our own twisted consciences were not enough, we now have monitors in our pockets at every moment of every day, looking over our shoulders, inspecting our plates and our thigh gaps, and reprimanding us of our lapses. We are kids; we should be allowed the sweet indulgences of childhood. But instead, we’ve been tortured in our relationship with candy for almost as long as we’ve known just how good candy tastes.

Eating has always been a perilous equation for girls, but now — thanks to our phones — the equation has gotten even more lopsided against us. There is no way for us to go anywhere near the kitchen, or the refrigerator, without having to answer to our social media feeds. And as a result, our minds are as full of bad ideas as our stomachs are empty of meaningful calories.

Related story Tick-Tock, TikTok: We Asked Teens How They Really Feel About the TikTok Ban

I was born in 2007, and so was the iPhone. The phone and I celebrate our birthdays two months apart. I was never allowed near my mom’s iPhone 3, but I sat and stared at its bright blue case from my perch. Sometimes I got a glimpse of the screen, and was able to see her screensaver: a picture of me smiling from two years earlier. Other times, I just sat watching her use that mysterious device. How was she able to move her fingers so fast? What was she typing? And when she raised it to her ear, who was speaking to her from inside the electric blue case? These were my unanswerable wonders as a toddler. The only thing I did know for sure was that my mother and her little blue box knew stuff that I never would.

To grasp just how much power smartphones have over kids, I need look no further than my own earliest memories. The allure of my mom’s iPhone captivated me almost from the time I was conscious. I was entranced by it, even before she knew of its spell on me; it was the shiniest toy I could not reach. And the fact that it was beyond my grasp made it all the more enticing. And of course, I’m hardly alone on this. Show me a restaurant with children in it, and I’ll show you an equal number of iPads. Ever since the smartphone’s inception 17 years ago, screens have been making a deep impact on every kid at every age and every stage of their lives. This ubiquitous, pocket-sized technology is now baked into the very fabric of our culture, so central to our daily existence that it’s impossible to look away or live without it. And all of this is not without potentially grave consequences. 

We know now that, among young people, depression has skyrocketed and vocabulary has plummeted. As Jonathan Haidt cited in his book, The Anxious Generation, no young generation in the last fifty years has been as anxious or unhappy as this one: Since 2010, there has been a 135 percent increase in depression for girls, and an even bigger one — 161 percent — for boys. Experts link these spikes in sadness directly to the advent of the smartphone; they say insecurity and despondency are the direct psychological result of our long hours spent staring at screens.  

Now that I’m 17, looking back on my childhood, I wonder how a parent could or should grapple with this phenomenon. We know that kids mimic the behaviors that they see around them. When I was 10, much to my mother’s dismay, I physically put my hand on her chin to raise her head to look at me when she could not bring herself to glance up from her phone. It was disheartening, to be sure, and yet I don’t blame her: Those were the early, heady days of this new technology, and we knew as much then about limiting phone use as people in the 1950s knew about wearing seatbelts. Yet now it’s a decade-plus later, and we know a whole lot more.

Which begs the question: What, if anything, can we do about this crisis? Is this next generation doomed? Or are there measures that can still be taken when it comes to phone use, navigating the treacherous realities of dependency and ubiquity?  Governors like Kathy Hochul in New York are implementing statewide school bans — and spreading a hopeful message. But what happens when kids get home from school? What can parents do to restore eye contact and conversation at the dinner table — and maybe even save their adult selves in the process? 

The Allure of Screen-Free Time

To answer all of these questions, I turned to a foremost expert. I had the pleasure of meeting and speaking with psychologist Yoni Schwab, co-founder of the Shefa School, and former psychologist at The Windward School. What Dr. Schwab has to say is deceptively simple — and easy to apply to one’s home life if one is willing to do so. Parents need to stop accommodating their kids, Dr. Schwab says. Rather, let them be bored. Boredom spurs creativity, and getting through tantrums in difficult situations yields growth. 

With that in mind, Dr. Schwab suggests a nuanced approach to the matter, one built on the tenet that “screen-free time” must have “its own allure.”

“The key is not just to take away screens,” he says, “but to replace them with meaningful, engaging, empowering alternatives.” When screens are off the table, board games must be on the table, he says. Or, if you’re not into board games, try reading together, going outside, hanging out with friends, or working on a creative craft. And the best option of all might be simply engaging kids in conversation, which is not just an opportunity for bonding, but also for learning. Kids master language not from watching reels on their phones, but rather from talking with their parents. “When kids are engaged in activities, both structured and unstructured,” says Dr. Schwab, “they are actually much happier than when they are on a device.” 

I can confirm from personal experience that Dr. Schwab is spot-on. When I’m out with my friends, having dinner, lunch, or getting ready, I’ve never once thought, “I wish I were in bed on TikTok” (at least not until my social battery dies). But when I’ve been alone in bed on TikTok, I’ve often thought, “I wish I were out laughing with my friends.” As for boredom, I remember staring at the ceiling from my bed when I was younger, creating elaborate fairy tales in my head, and having my mom write them down (this was before I could write myself). Whereas during my 30 minutes of iPad time, my biggest concern was how to get three green candies to line up in Candy Crush. 

I ended my conversation with Dr. Schwab by asking him a phone question that’s been at the forefront of my mind lately. But before I get to that question, some context: I began this essay with recollections from my stroller days, knowing even at 3 years old that I wanted to have and hold my mom’s phone, in its electric blue case, as soon as I could get my hands on it. Well, eight years or so after I first spied my mom’s iPhone 3, I hit a milestone. After waging a relentless campaign, I finally wore my parents down enough to get them to buy me my own phone. And as I began sixth grade, I remember the exhilarating experience of knowing I had an iPhone 11 with my name on it — even before I knew exactly what I would do with it. I could not wait to play with my new toy, or even simply to walk around carrying it. I am not overstating things when I say that I felt like I’d become an adult practically overnight. Indeed, getting a phone was a rite of passage for me, and so many of my friends. 

Which brings me back to my final question for Dr. Schwab. With all of these details as a backdrop, I asked our phone expert how we begin to undo this powerful cultural association that the phone has assumed in kids’ eyes — it’s a measure of growing up.

His answer surprised me. He did not suggest any radical overhaul of our new cultural norms. “Getting a phone will continue to be a rite of passage,” Dr. Schwab said. But he added that the rite of passage “should come later, in high school rather than in elementary or middle school. It’s a huge responsibility, and it should be taken seriously. And there should be a lot of training and practice to use it safely, like we do with other developmental milestones, like learning to drive.”

And so it’s clear that we are at a cultural crossroads now. There’s no simple medicine or antidote to aid in our technological disconnecting. All of our limbs are wired to satellites since birth, but it’s worth taking steps to sever those wires. With the help of our parents or other adults around us, perhaps Gen Z is not completely lost to the virtual world.

Never overpluck your eyebrows. Always wear sunscreen. And most importantly, purple eyeshadow looks great with green eyes. (Just kidding — that’s not the most important, though I can testify it’s absolutely true. Something about the contrast!)

The real beauty lesson my mom taught me — the one that matters most — is this: smile, make eye contact, be kind, and ask questions. And, of course, purple eyeshadow doesn’t hurt.

Now that I’m 23, I still find myself relying on the beauty advice my mom gave me as a teenager. So, in anticipation of Mother’s Day, I asked teen girls to share the best beauty secrets they’ve learned from their moms.

To be honest, I assumed that in the age of “Sephora tweens” — when beauty often feels like something you can buy in a bottle, and every skincare product is treated like a status symbol — their answers might sound more like a shopping guide. But even though today’s teens are more exposed to skincare and makeup than I was at their age, the beauty wisdom they’re getting from their moms is still absolutely timeless.

In my conversations with teens in New York City, I heard a mix of practical beauty tips and bigger-picture advice.

On the practical side, 15-year-old Campbell shared her mom’s favorite beauty hack: instead of buying liquid concealer, use a little nude lipstick with a brush to cover up red spots.

Thirteen-year-old Reese’s mom gave her this advice: ’90s spaghetti-thin eyebrows aren’t coming back in style anytime soon. “Never touch your eyebrows,” she advises. “Keep them how they are!”

Another teen explained how her mom taught her to use kajal — a traditional Indian eye makeup — to define her eyes, applying it both along the lash line and the waterline.

And when it came to big-picture advice, one teen credited her mom with reinforcing the old adage: “Less is always more.”

Finally, one mother-daughter duo I spoke with shared a view of beauty as coming from the inside out. The daughter told me the best beauty secret she learned from her mom is to “Sleep well, hydrate, and be happy.” Her mom nodded and added, “Take time to take care of yourself first.”

Hearing that, I immediately remembered my dermatologist urging me, yet again, to drink more water. But even more than that, my takeaway from talking with these teens was clear: beauty is so much more than skin deep.

And so with Mother’s Day just around the corner, I’m feeling especially grateful to all the moms who teach us — through a mix of practical tips and timeless wisdom — how to glow from the inside out.

Related story Gen Z Thinks Seeking Therapy Makes Them "Mentally Weak" – Despite The Generation's Mental Health Crisis

According to a new Pew Research Center study, over a third of U.S. teens seek out mental health content on social media — and nearly two-thirds of those who do say it’s important to them. And while the instinct might be to redirect them toward traditional resources, maybe the better question is: What are teens actually getting from these platforms that they’re not getting anywhere else? We asked our SheKnows Teen Council members, who were happy to give us some insight.

Our Teens Are Already There — So Now What?

For many teens, social media isn’t just where they spend time — it’s where they process their lives. Platforms like TikTok and YouTube are filled with relatable creators who speak openly about anxiety, depression, ADHD, gender identity, family stress, and trauma. The content is casual, unfiltered, and often deeply personal, which is exactly what makes it resonate.

Teens don’t have to book an appointment, sit awkwardly in a waiting room, or wonder if their therapist “gets” them. They can scroll anonymously. They can seek help on their terms, in their language, and at their own pace. (For those like Carson, 17, there’s an appeal in figuring it out themselves: “I didn’t like the thought of having to rely on someone else to cure my problems.”) It’s mental health care that feels like hanging out with someone who understands (i.e., a friend), instead of being lectured by someone who doesn’t (i.e., a parent or other authority figure). Which makes total sense, considering that in a 2024 SheKnows Teen Council survey, 52 percent of teen boys reported that their friends were the first they’d turn to with concerns about their mental health and wellbeing.

Why Teens Might Be Inclined to Choose TikTok Over Therapy

Accessibility is a huge factor. Many families can’t afford consistent therapy, and waitlists are long even for those who can. Besides the money, there’s working it into their busy schedules and — if it’s an in-person therapist — finding transportation to and from. But even beyond logistics, teens are drawn to social platforms because they offer anonymity, relatability, and representation.

They’re seeing themselves in the stories shared by influencers. They’re hearing “me too” from people who look like them, talk like them, and share their lived experiences. In many ways, it’s not just about avoiding traditional systems; it’s about finding spaces that feel safer.

That’s especially true for marginalized teens, who often don’t see their identities or struggles reflected in school counselors or even in clinical settings. Black teens, for example, report the highest rates of turning to social media for mental health information.

For boys, the expectations of masculinity — be stoic, be tough, “be a man” — come into play as well. Studies show that when boys and young men feel pressured to be emotionally tough and handle things on their own, they’re much less likely to ask for help; it’s no wonder they’d rather seek answers under the anonymity of the Internet.

What Influencers Are Doing Right

It’s easy to be skeptical of influencers giving advice online. And yes, not all advice is good advice. But some creators are doing something that adults often struggle with: listening without judgment. They’re sharing their own struggles. They’re saying, “You’re not broken. You’re not alone.”

“Teenagers crave authenticity, and many influencers meet them there,” Dr. Caroline Fenkel, Adolescent Mental Health Expert and Chief Clinical Officer at Charlie Health, tells SheKnows. “Unlike adult figures, who can sometimes feel distant or overly clinical, influencers often share lived experiences, speak in the language teens use, and offer an unfiltered look at emotional struggles.”

For a teen scrolling at midnight, feeling isolated or overwhelmed, hearing someone say, “I’ve felt this way too, and here’s what helped me,” can feel more immediate and validating than a well-meaning adult’s advice, Dr. Fenkel says. There’s a tone to it that works. It’s informal, validating, sometimes even humorous — all without minimizing what a teen might be feeling. It’s emotional fluency, something our generation wasn’t always taught to express.

What if parents, teachers, and even therapists could learn from this? What if we borrowed that same tone of compassion and curiosity, instead of rushing to fix, dismiss, or diagnose? At the very least, we need to see it for what it is without taking it personally, as parents tend to do.

“What we need to recognize is that this doesn’t mean teens are rejecting adults, they’re seeking connection in the absence of other supports,” Dr. Fenkel reminds us. “Influencers often model vulnerability, something we as adults can sometimes shy away from. That’s our opportunity: to lean into openness rather than authority.”

And sometimes, stuff is just too personal or difficult to divulge to your folks — at least, in our teens’ opinions. “If it’s something that you don’t feel like your parents could either understand, relate to, or just simply don’t want to know, then it’s necessary to go on social media and talk to friends or look through relatable videos,” points out Everett, 14.

A perfect example of an influencer who isn’t a professional but still someone who Gen Z turns to for words of wisdom is 27-year-old Leo Skepi. Lilla, 16, watches Skepi’s TikToks when she needs a dose of real talk. Known for his no-nonsense, tough-love delivery, Skepi has amassed a huge following among young people looking for life advice that feels raw and unapologetic. While some praise his candidness and confidence-boosting affirmations, others find his content polarizing — occasionally veering into territory that critics say lacks nuance or empathy. But for teens like Lilla, that kind of blunt honesty cuts through the noise in a way traditional sources often don’t.

“He’s very real — even though he’s technically an influencer, and has a lot of money and a lot of fame, he’s a very real person,” she tells us. “He’s good at getting his point across in a way that’s understandable.”

For Meera, 16, her go-to is 24-year-old podcaster and content creator Lexi Hidalgo: “I really appreciate that she offers both quick, uplifting content and more in-depth discussions through her podcast. I also like that she keeps her content authentic and doesn’t make her account solely about mental health, it feels more balanced and real.”

In our Teen Council members’ comments, it’s clear that one common thread unites them: they value authenticity above all else. Clover, 15, tells us, “I usually tend to trust someone more if they are using relatable experiences or not trying to seem like their absolute best self when posting,” she says. “I don’t want to just see all of your highs, where you feel great and you’re telling me to be happy. I want to see the lows, where you end up powering through it, or work on the problem. When people share those moments, I trust them. When all of a creator’s mental health content is them telling you that all you need to do to lead a happy life is to move, or just get over things, I don’t really believe them.” Everett agrees, telling us that the influencers he follows need to seem “relatively normal” and like they’re someone he can relate to.

But even the most relatable and authentic creators are still creators — a fact not lost on most teens, even those who follow influencers who talk about mental health.

“It’s trendy for influencers to be as ‘open’ with their followers as they can be. They want to seem human and relatable — that’s the point of their jobs,” says 17-year-old Juliet. “I follow Alix Earle, who’s always been very open about her struggles with insecurity and her skin. I like that she sets a good example, one of self-love and acceptance, and gives her followers a sense of ownership of their own insecurities. Seeing influencers like Alix normalize their imperfections is inspiring because it’s important to see yourself reflected in the people you admire. But it also occurs to me that all videos are carefully filmed and edited. Everything influencers say is rehearsed, even when talking about intimate struggles.”

The Ideal World vs. Real Life

Would it be better if every teen had access to a caring, licensed therapist and a support system that checked in regularly? Absolutely. But that’s not the reality — and pretending otherwise doesn’t help teens in the meantime. It’s a lot like sex ed: we know teens are doing it (and are going to continue, no matter what), so rather than preaching nothing but abstinence, we need to face reality and equip them with the tools to make the best and safest decisions.

A similar harm-reduction approach might help when it comes to mental health and social media: meeting teens where they already are, and helping them navigate the digital landscape with more awareness, because there’s no denying that risks do exist.

“The biggest risk is oversimplification. Mental health is complex, and algorithms don’t always reward nuance,” warns Dr. Fenkel. “Diagnoses like ADHD or trauma can get reduced to lists of symptoms that sound relatable to almost anyone. That can lead to self-diagnosis without context, and sometimes without understanding the deeper roots of what they’re feeling.”

According to Juliet, the sharing of mental health struggles on social media has been “a trend that everyone wants a piece of.”

“It’s almost too easy to talk about struggles with anxiety and depression,” she tells us. “So much so that people might confuse their occasional feelings of sadness with a diagnosis of depression.” And 16-year-old Sophia reports the same sentiment: “Mental health is so normalized that, when someone hits a bad spot in their life, one might believe it to be depression, regardless that it could just be a few days.”

Beyond that, Dr. Fenkel says, “There’s also the issue of emotional performativity: content that makes distress feel aesthetic or even aspirational. When emotional pain becomes content, it can blur the line between expression and reinforcement.”

“I feel like a lot of content creators and people online glorify disorders like ADHD, OCD, anxiety, and depression, and make it confusing for people who think they might have the same symptoms,” 17-year-old Chloe tells us. “Sometimes, they aren’t entirely honest about their experiences with their mental health or use the terms without understanding what they mean. Social media has normalized the terms surrounding mental health, but I think that it doesn’t show the realities of it.” 

Parents, that’s where we come in. We can guide them toward more reliable sources, talk with them about what they’re seeing online, and make sure they know how to spot red flags — like toxic positivity, unqualified “coaches,” or triggering content disguised as support.

“Start by assuming your teen already has a relationship with mental health content online — and come to that conversation with curiosity, not judgment,” advises Dr. Fenkel. “Try something like: ‘I came across a post that made me think about how people talk about mental health online. Have you seen anything that really resonated with you?'” From there, she says, let them lead the way. “If they share a creator they like, don’t dismiss it. Instead, ask what they like about that person’s message. That opens the door to deeper conversations — not just about the content, but about your teen’s internal world.”

Instead of fighting the fact that teens are using social media for mental health support, maybe it’s better that we embrace it with eyes wide open. Dr. Fenkel points out that there are legitimate benefits, telling SheKnows that she’s seen plenty of young patients who said they first learned about therapy or coping skills through TikTok.

“In that sense, social media can be a kind of emotional sandbox where teens experiment with language, self-awareness, and even peer support,” she says. “It can reduce the feeling of being alone with your emotions. When a young person sees content about anxiety or depression that resonates with them, it can be the first time they realize, ‘I’m not broken, this is a shared experience,’ and that sense of universality is powerful.”

Though Sophia sees seeking advice from social media as a mixed bag of good and bad overall, she agrees with this aspect. “Talking about mental health has made it more normalized in a good way, also where people feel more comfortable opening up about their emotions and hardships,” she says. “Therefore, people feel less alone.”

Though she acknowledges that there are some benefits, SheKnows Teen Council member Thea, 16, doesn’t think they outweigh the risks — and says she doesn’t personally find social media comforting. “There’s a huge culture of compassion and toxicity that impacts the majority of teens poorly,” she tells us. “It definitely can be used for reassurance as there are people who you can find that you relate to that you can’t find in real life, but overall I believe it’s extremely harmful.” 

These platforms aren’t going anywhere, and neither are our teens. But we can equip them to scroll smarter, speak up, and feel seen. Because sometimes, “better online than not at all” is the most realistic — and most compassionate — place to start.

“I wish that adults were able to grasp that simple truth about TikTok’s appeal,” says Juliet. “Even though sitting alone with one’s phone might look like isolation and solitude, sometimes it’s a gateway to a much wider social circle and community.” 

The truth is, part of being a teenager is skirting rules, pushing boundaries, and rolling your eyes at your parents. We did it too, remember? Now that we’re on the other side, it feels different — but it’s the same teenage attitude, just dressed in new packaging. And thanks to technology we didn’t grow up with, it’s harder than ever to understand … or interpret.

Case in point: Netflix’s recent movie, Adolescence. When the film’s plot revealed that teens use seemingly innocent emojis to communicate deeper, often secret meanings, parents everywhere took notice. Emojis, those tiny expressive icons that adults typically see as harmless, can sometimes carry troubling messages among teens. And the film’s creators have said that the show itself is based on an amalgamation of real-life cases. So, are emojis and their hidden meanings indeed worth worrying about? We asked experts — and teens themselves.

Why Emojis Matter

Emojis aren’t just fun icons — they’re a core part of how teenagers express emotions, intentions, and hidden meanings. Teens are naturally wired to seek independence and carve out a sense of privacy, and emojis have become one of their favorite tools to do just that. They’re a quick, subtle way for teens to express themselves while keeping parents (and other adults) comfortably at arm’s length. It’s like their own shorthand: part self-expression, part social gatekeeping.

The ever-changing nature of what’s cool on platforms like TikTok only accelerates this. Viral trends and memes constantly reshape what emojis mean, so just when we think we’ve figured one out, it shifts into something completely different. Teens also use emojis with layers of humor and irony, which lets them talk about sensitive or even taboo topics without spelling anything out. It’s smart and subtle — and for parents, it can feel like trying to crack a code that changes daily.

“TikTok has made emoji usage a lively, meme-like language that circulates quickly and changes constantly,” Dr. Paul Daidone, Medical Director at True Self Recovery, tells SheKnows. “It’s become more ironic and performative — emojis can be employed opposite of their literal meanings, so cultural literacy trumps real comprehension.”

Common Emojis with Hidden Meanings

Here are some emojis that teens often use in ways many adults don’t expect:

Misinterpretation of emojis by adults can lead to confusion, missed opportunities to address serious issues, or unnecessary conflicts. It’s crucial that we strike a balance between respecting our teens’ privacy and staying on top of things enough to recognize potential warning signs.

“On one hand, emojis can help teens express themselves, especially when they don’t know how to put their feelings into words. It can be a way for them to share emotions and thoughts they’re still figuring out,” Dr. Sal Raichbach, LCSW, PsyD, tells SheKnows. “But it could also be problematic — especially if they use emojis to hide or mask things they’re struggling with. Since adults might not always understand the hidden meanings behind certain emojis, it can make it harder for parents or teachers to intervene when necessary.”

Should Parents Be Worried About the “Secret Language” of Emojis?

Still, say our experts, teen emoji use is most likely to fall into the self-expression category. “Be informed, but not panicked,” reasons Dr. Daidone. “There are some emojis used to signal dangerous feeling or behavior, but the vast majority of teens use them either playfully or as group slang. Context is key — emojis rarely tell the whole story.”

Caitlin Severin, LMFT & cofounder of CultivaTeen Roots, echoes this. “Parents need to remember that online trends are rooted in building culture and not necessarily secrecy and harm,” she reminds us.

What Does Gen Z Say About Their Emoji Use?

I polled members of our SheKnows Teen Council, as well as my own teen boys, to get their take on emoji slang — and whether it’s as potentially worrisome as some parents might believe. Unsurprisingly, the consensus was that adults tend to overthink it.

“That’s how you can tell a show was written by adults,” quipped my 17-year-old, Cameron, referring to Adolescence and how Gen Z communication gets misinterpreted by, well, people who aren’t Gen Z. Even the star of Adolescence, 15-year-old Owen Cooper, admits the hidden meanings of emojis as referenced in the movie were not on his personal radar: “I was glad I didn’t have an idea of what was going on — the emojis and the meanings behind them. I had no clue,” he told The Hollywood Reporter. “And I don’t think my friends knew, but it’s obviously happening across the country. It’s not a made-up story.”

While emojis can have alternate meanings, all of the council members we spoke to reported that most of the time, they aren’t being used for shady dealings — especially not to the degree portrayed in Adolescence.

“I don’t use emojis to keep secrets from adults,” says Sophia, 16. “Although emojis can have semi-hidden meanings, I never use them to send hidden messages.” A 15-year-old council member who preferred to remain anonymous echoed this sentiment: “I think I have some emojis that are inside jokes, but not necessarily to ‘hide’ something.”

A perfect example of adults misinterpreting an emoji is one we heard time and time again from nearly all of our Gen Zers: the crying emoji (😭), which has evolved far beyond its literal meaning. “If someone found what you said funny or was telling you about something funny that happened, they usually use the crying emoji,” reports 18-year-old Ajani.

“Adults definitely misinterpret ‘😭,’” says Gabby, 16. “Usually, teens are using it for something funny, but adults think that it means you’re actually upset.”

And don’t even get them started on the cry-laughing emoji (😂) — one of my personal favorites. “The cry-laughing emoji is just an old person thing,” says my son Coby, 15.

“It’s now largely viewed as passé,” agrees 16-year-old Meera. “It doesn’t really represent how Gen Z expresses humor anymore.”

The idea that emoji meanings aren’t fixed and are often layered with irony came up repeatedly. But don’t feel bad — even though our teenagers are light-years ahead of us when it comes to navigating the changing trends, sometimes even they get confused. “Certain emojis will turn pretty quickly from stuff that I can use to something overused,” says my 19-year-old, Colin. “If parents are seeing it, it’s probably already too late. It goes from something cool to the same emoji or expression being used ironically to make fun of the people who say it.” He offers up the same advice about AI: If ChatGPT has picked up on an emoji, its moment has already passed.

How to Bring Up Emoji Use With Your Kids (So They’ll Actually Talk About It)

Among the experts we spoke to, one piece of advice was unanimous: When questioning teens about emojis, approach is everything.

“Open-ended, non-judgmental dialogues will always lead to better outcomes in conversations with teens. Try, ‘I saw something about emojis having different meanings online — what are your opinions on that?’ Or just a low-stakes question like ‘What’s your favorite emoji to use?'” advises Severin. “You can also try asking, ‘Can you help me learn more about emojis? Are there any that have ridiculous meanings?’ Respond in a light way and not out of fear or accusations, which might shut the conversation down.”

Dr. Daidone also recommends open-ended questions to kickstart a conversation. “Begin from a position of curiosity and not doubt,” he says. “Ask questions like ‘What’s going on with this emoji trend?’ or ‘What is it that other people your age believe it’s about?’ to encourage discussion and not interrogate. Teenagers are more likely to be open when treated with respect.”

And just as we might tell our teens to watch their tone, we also need to watch ours. “It’s important to keep the conversation light and open, so your teen doesn’t feel judged or like they need to hide things. If you ask about emoji meanings or trends, do it in a way that shows you’re genuinely interested in understanding their world, not policing it,” says Dr. Raichbach. “When they see that you’re genuinely trying to connect and understand them, they’ll be more likely to open up with you.”

Here’s What We Should Actually Worry About

Experts also agree that the thing we need to worry about most goes much deeper than emojis. “Behavioral challenges such as increased secrecy, withdrawal, low social engagement, and lack of interest in previously held hobbies or passions, deserve your focus more than any emoji messages,” says Severin.

“If decoding emojis is the focus, I believe we are missing the point. While awareness and staying informed is absolutely crucial, I think the greater focus needs to be on helping our children feel comfortable enough to share concerning information with us,” says Lindsey Gray, cognitive behavioral expert and Head Teen Coach of The Attitude Advantage Program. “Secrecy comes in when kids feel the need to hide something due to shame, embarrassment, or an overall lack of mental, emotional, or social safety. If we can dispel the potential for those issues, then decoding becomes something we have to worry about much less.”

Though Adolescence may present a worst-case scenario, and your teen probably isn’t using emojis in a nefarious way, the film’s impact on parents — and their need to check in more closely with their kids — is undeniable.

“One hundred percent of people that have approached have said, ‘Thank you,’” Stephen Graham, who also stars as Eddie, the father of the accused boy, as well as being the movie’s co-writer and co-producer, told The Hollywood Reporter. “A good few dads have said, ‘It’s really made me look at myself. As soon as I finished watching it, I went into my kids room and I gave them a cuddle, and we’ve started to talk. I ask more questions.’”

Smith, of course, is an extremely glamorous (and possibly tongue-in-cheek) example of the tradwife influencer trend, where women embrace traditional roles such as homemaking and child-rearing — basically the opposite of modern “girl bosses.” On platforms like Instagram and TikTok, these influencers advocate for a lifestyle where women focus on nurturing roles while their husbands are expected to provide and decide. They promote an ideology that suggests women are happiest as homemakers, sparking debate about whether it’s a nostalgic return to old-fashioned values or a setback for gender equality.

The tradwife fantasy can be a powerful one. In a world where teenage girls like me are juggling multiple AP classes and time-intensive extracurriculars, the tradwife aesthetic offers an appealing contrast. The slower, low-stress lifestyle presents an alternative to the high-achieving, financially-independent ideal we’ve been told to strive for. It whispers, Wouldn’t it be easier to opt out?

It was that contrast — the push and pull between these two visions of womanhood — that led me to explore this topic for my AP Research class. While my results aren’t yet finalized, my initial findings from surveying 32 high school classmates suggest that the appeal of the tradwife lifestyle depends largely on gender. When I surveyed teens after showing them tradwife influencer social media content, many of the girls expressed skepticism, while the boys generally viewed the trend more positively. For many girls, the aesthetic initially seemed appealing, but as they thought more about the reality of financial dependence, their views shifted. The boys, however, largely saw the tradwife model as an ideal arrangement, reinforcing traditional gender roles rather than challenging them. Since my research focuses on how these messages influence teenage girls specifically, their evolving perspectives — starting with curiosity but often ending in critique — are the most revealing.

What struck me most during my research was the paradox at the heart of this movement. These tradwife influencers present themselves as devoted homemakers while simultaneously building lucrative personal brands. They’re essentially entrepreneurs, turning their domestic lives into content that generates significant income — becoming both the ultimate housewife and savvy businesswoman rolled into one. Meanwhile, a non-influencer tradwife faces a different reality: financial dependence on her husband for every aspect of her life. This contradiction wasn’t lost on the teenage girls in my study. As one 15-year-old classmate put it, “It’s crazy how these influencers seem to have it all — being perfect at home while making bank — when in real life, being a tradwife means you’re totally relying on your husband for everything.”

My research suggests that when teenage girls actually engage with tradwife content, they often come away more critical of it. Many of my female survey respondents reported feeling skeptical after watching these videos, recognizing the way they romanticize dependence. In contrast, the boys’ perspectives remained largely unchanged — about 70 percent had no strong opinion on the matter, while around 30 percent expressed a preference for the tradwife model. This divergence reinforces the idea that the tradwife trend isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s about reinforcing traditional power dynamics. It’s important to note that these findings are preliminary, and further research is needed to draw definitive conclusions.

At its core, the tradwife resurgence is not just about personal choice — it’s about the broader societal messages we absorb about gender roles. The fact that this trend is resonating with young audiences, even ironically, may speak to a larger cultural shift.

Whenever one of my friends jokes, “Well, I guess I’ll just marry rich” after bombing a test, we understand she means that the pressure to excel in every arena can feel overwhelming. But choosing the tradwife path means relinquishing control over one’s future. It’s not a trade-off any of us actually want to make. One of my friends wants to be a professional actress, and another is planning to become a doctor. Jokes about “just working in the kitchen” are said sarcastically; we still dream of ambitious futures we shape for ourselves.

The tradwife trend may continue to circulate online, but so will the pushback against it. If anything, its rise has sparked a necessary conversation about gender, choice, and societal expectations. And personally? I’d rather struggle through physics homework than surrender my independence.

There are potential buyers — Amazon among them — but there’s also a chance that this is a can that will just get kicked down the road again. So where does that leave some of TikTok’s heaviest (and youngest) users? Roughly 6 in 10 teens use the app daily, with 16 percent of those teens reporting being on it “almost constantly,” according to the latest data from the Pew Research Center.

We wanted to hear from teenagers themselves just what they think of yet another potential TikTok ban — would they be devastated? Indifferent? Have they already moved on? Below, read what six members of SheKnows’ Teen Council had to say.

Meera, 16:
“I would be really upset if the TikTok ban actually went through. I’ve been on the app since 6th grade, and it’s by far my favorite social media platform. As a micro-influencer with 20K+ followers, I’ve built a community over the years, and even though I don’t post as often now, the idea of losing all my creative content and connections is frustrating.

“Beyond personal impact, I feel like banning TikTok isn’t where the government’s focus should be right now. There are much bigger issues that deserve attention, and it’s hard to see this as anything more than a distraction. TikTok has become a major space for creativity, learning, and self-expression — taking it away feels unnecessary and out of touch with what really matters.

“Also, I haven’t changed the way I use TikTok since the first time a ban was floated. It still plays a big role in how I stay entertained, keep up with the news, and engage with people and trends from around the world. If anything, the constant talk of banning it just feels exhausting, and I wish the government would move on to addressing actual problems.”

Theo, 15:
“Do I wish it would be banned for my mental health and time management? Low-key, yeah, ‘cause I think I spend way too much time on TikTok. Doing other stuff in the time I’m spending on TikTok would just be so much better for me. Reading or eating… just not being on a screen and scrolling for hours.

“I wouldn’t be devastated if it went away because you have other platforms like Instagram and I don’t know, Twitter, but I would be kind of sad. Because also it’s like, it’s not just for scrolling, it’s jobs people have; like their whole life is on TikTok, they make videos for a living and also people like at my school, like my friends… it’s just a fun way to do stuff. It’s not just like aimlessly scrolling, you know? It’s more than that.

“I deleted it for a while. And then I just watched Instagram Reels, so I don’t know… it’s just, everywhere you turn, there’s just like infinite content, so it’s kind of hard to get rid of it, you know?”

Clive, 15:
“Obviously, TikTok getting banned has been a really big topic for a while. I just feel like it’s not nearly as important as it seems. There’s so many other apps that are basically the exact same thing as TikTok now, and so many creators on TikTok have moved to other apps that have kind of replicated TikTok’s style. I almost prefer Instagram Reels. Honestly, my friends spend as much time on Instagram Reels as TikTok, if not more. It’s like, funnier. I feel like a ban wouldn’t be that big of a thing for me. I think a lot of people just move on really quickly.

“I get why it’s getting banned. I mean, there’s a lot of security concerns, like privacy. I personally feel like there’s a bunch of other apps [with] the exact same [issue]. I think TikTok just stands out more because it’s owned by a Chinese company. The government’s kind of scared because they don’t know what they’re doing with the data and stuff. But Trump’s really been fighting to keep it, and I feel like at this point, he’s almost using it as a way to show that he’s like, a guy for the people, and that he can get things done.

“It’s not like TikTok going away is gonna be the end of scrolling and short videos. I’m not gonna, like, stop being on my phone and being distracted because TikTok was banned. I’ll just go on Instagram Reels more often, you know?”

Greta, 17:
“I think a ban would be beneficial, since I do spend more time on TikTok than I should; however, I think the platform also can help people express themselves, connect with others, and get different perspectives on certain topics. When TikTok was banned for a day, my friends and I agreed that it almost felt unnatural not to have it, but in a way, we knew it would be good for us to have a break from it. When TikTok came back, everyone was really relieved and happy to have it again. Since the initial ban, I have been thinking more about the pros and cons of having TikTok, and I don’t think it’s only negative, but I also understand the impact it has in terms of screen time increasing, unhealthy ideas spreading, and more.

“When my friends and I found out about the TikTok ban, initially everyone was sad because we all have such a strong attachment to the app. Then we realized that it would be good for our productivity in school to not have it as a distraction. [But] even though people were saying it would help with productivity, the moment it got banned for a day, people were downloading and looking for replacement apps like RedNote and Instagram Reels.”

Ajani, 18:
“For me personally, at this point, I don’t use TikTok as much as I used to since the first initial ban. If it were to get banned again, I don’t think it would impact my life in an insane way. TikTok definitely plays a role in my social media usage, but not as much as it used to. I use Instagram more than I used to now, maybe due to the initial TikTok ban. However, the banning of TikTok would definitely bring my screen time down. Now that I have already experienced the first TikTok ban, I would not be devastated about it being banned again.”

Connor, 16:
“I think that a potential TikTok ban would be beneficial. I have friends that are on TikTok all day long, doomscrolling and wasting important time for schoolwork, sports, socializing… Although I’m a victim of this too, I only use Instagram and limit myself to one hour a day. This is still a lot of time, but it’s way less than some of my friends, who I see having 11 hours on TikTok when I look at their screen time.

“Although an outright ban of TikTok would be annoying for many kids’ lives, it wouldn’t change them too much. Instead, they would just use Instagram or other platforms and probably spend the same amount of time on that. As for whether the owner of it is the reason it should get banned, I have no idea. Who knows if foreign owners are using it to brainwash us? If that was the case, then a ban would definitely be beneficial, but they haven’t proven anything and seemingly can’t. This leaves the only good outcome to be less kids glued to their screens — which I doubt it will fix.”

Finsta accounts have been around for ages, but they were primarily used to post personal and unfiltered content: memes, unflattering photos, and rants about your latest crush. They were private, so you were required to request access. Finsta accounts were purposefully impossible for your peers to find. And although it was generally all PG, it was nothing middle-school me would want my parents to see.

What Are Instagram ‘Spam’ Accounts?

Today, much of what used to live on finstas has now migrated to private Snapchat stories. And unlike those hidden finstas on Instagram, the majority of today’s spam accounts are public and displayed in main Instagram bios. They’re less about intensely personal information and more about curating a collection of photos and videos you enjoy. While the account may be public and individuals can see your feed when they click on your profile, only your close friends who follow the account will see when you “spam” their feed. 

When I think of the driving force behind spam accounts, the phrase that comes to mind is the desire to “make Instagram casual again.” For much of Gen Z, Instagram has become a place where the pressure to present a perfect image is overwhelming. Instagram used to be a social media platform where your best friends followed you, and you followed them back. Not anymore… Think about it: you meet someone briefly through a mutual friend, and they follow you. You feel obligated to follow them back — but you literally just met them, and suddenly, you’re sharing your life with someone you barely know. I find this constant performance exhausting, and I don’t need to annoy all of these people who barely even know me with posts every week, let alone every day. And that’s where the spam account comes in. I can post whenever and whatever I feel like without the judgment of people seeing it in real-time on their feed. 

Do you have tons of amazing photos from a trip that you can’t fit into a single post? Spam account. Do you adore a photo but feel it doesn’t quite fit the aesthetic of your feed? Spam account. Did you take a weirdly aesthetic pic of your shoes and the sidewalk that might make your “Rinsta” followers question your sanity? You guessed it: spam account. And my personal favorite: are you not allowed to post an adorable photo on your main account because your friend doesn’t love how she looks in it? Spam. Account. 

On a recent ski trip, I posted a photo of my friend and me on the mountain on my main account, where my posts are more curated. I shared a photo of our walk to dinner (you can see below) on my spam account, where I have more candid and “leftover” pictures that don’t end up making my main feed.

Spam accounts can have many forms; what I’ve discussed so far is a classic spam account that highlights photos of one’s everyday life. But I’ve seen all sorts of cooking, traveling, and more niche-themed spam accounts pop up. One of my best friends brings her digital camera out with her on the go and has a spam account designated to display all of her vintage ESC photos of our friends. It’s all a way for Gen Z to share their more specific interests with a smaller circle of friends rather than with their larger main following.

When I spent a semester abroad, I found myself posting on my spam account a lot (and I mean a lot). I loved all of the photos I took, but I didn’t need to constantly let everyone following my main account know what I was up to. Instead, I used my spam account to share and log my trips and memories. 

Spam Accounts & Main Accounts

For some teens, a spam account is just a digital dumping ground for their overflow of pictures on a girls’ night out. For others, it’s a carefully curated space to showcase their authenticity. Although it might be subconscious for some, I like to think of spam accounts as a place where Gen Z can push back against the polished, performative nature of their main Instagram feeds that tend to be filtered and edited to perfection. The spam account is essentially the behind-the-scenes glimpse into everyday life and passions.

As we all know, Gen Z is the generation of social media. But I think social media is a double-edged sword — especially for girls. It can help us grow as an individual by providing information and connections, but at the same time, social media perpetuates unrealistic beauty standards and creates pressure to project an idealized version of ourselves. Let’s be honest: nobody, and I mean nobody, looks that perfect in real life. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t agonized over which of two nearly identical photos to post or spent an eternity crafting the perfect caption on my main account. With spam accounts, all of that pressure, which seems ridiculous to admit exists, disappears. You can be yourself, unfiltered and unedited.

As an entirely social media-driven generation, Gen Z understands the difference between a constructed online persona and the reality of their own lives. Spam accounts are a recognition that life isn’t always perfectly posed and filtered — and that there is beauty in that. 

Beyond that, spam accounts let Gen Z not just consume social media, but actively shape it to fit their needs. Whether the spam account is used to share cooking recipes, film photos, clothing to sell, or just everyday life, it all has a similar purpose: A desire for genuine connection in a world that often feels curated and performative. So if you’re asking me, I say not only embrace the spam, but bring it on. 

World Teen Mental Wellness Day is on March 2, which is also the first day of Teen Tech Week. No surprise there, as the correlation between teen mental health and technology is well-documented (read: scientists have confirmed what every parent already knows — too much screen time can have a serious negative effect on mental health). 

We know scientists are concerned about teens’ use of their screens. We know how parents are concerned about it. But what about the teens themselves? How much time do they really spend on their phones? Are they happy with that? Do they wish it could change? Can it?

I asked them.

On a February afternoon in New York City, I talked to a handful of teens about their phones — and how they feel about those “smart” devices. On the question of how many hours teens spend a day on their phones, results varied.

Ben, 16, told me 10 hours. Annabella, also 16, said 12. Fifteen-year-old Mateo estimated 3 or 4 hours. Same with Sreethi, 18. Angelina, 17, told me, “I don’t get off my phone at all.” Annie, also 17, reported 2 hours of screen time a day on weekdays, and 4 on weekends.

But regardless of the varied responses to that question, when I followed up with, “Are you happy with this number?” the answer revealed a consensus: No.

Preeti, 18, who “lost count” of how many hours a day she spends on her phone, told me it’s “too much.” Annie said she’s “embarrassed” about her number: “I wanna cut it down … I could be doing better things. It’s not good for me.” Mateo responded, “I lowkey wanna get it down; being on your phone isn’t, like, the most productive way to spend my time.”

Not only is excessive screen time ‘unproductive’ but it can be actively harmful to a teen’s self-image (something SheKnows found when it surveyed a group of teen boys last summer as part of its ‘Be a Man’ project: 41 percent of respondents said they feel social media negatively affected their self-esteem.) When I asked, “To what extent do you think social media has an effect on mental health?” one word stood out in all of the responses: comparison.

“I think it has a huge effect, especially the comparison,” Ben told me. Kai, 15, agreed. “You start to compare yourself to other people,” he said. “It kind of ruins your own self-image … it makes you wanna be like other people, and you lose individuality.”

These teens know the negative effects of screen time, but across the board, they’re spending more hours a day on their phones than many would like. Why?

Well, they’re addicted. 

“My friends are on it [their phones], I feel like I couldn’t get off it or certain apps, I don’t know — I’m just, like, addicted,” Annabella admitted. When I asked Preeti if she could survive without her phone, she giggled and responded, “Not at all. I need my phone.” She’s tried to delete TikTok, but says, “It’s so hard! It’s tempting to always download it back.” Sreethi concurred: “I agree, I cannot live without TikTok.” 

In the past, I would have thought these teens were being hyperbolic. Of course they can survive without TikTok! However, not only is the algorithm literally engineered to capitalize on users’ brain chemistry, but screen time has become systematized in the lives of teens. 

The teens I talked to told me they turn to their phones when they need homework help. They open Snapchat when they want to talk with their friends. Of course, they could survive without a phone in the sense that they could eat and breathe. But to quit their phones would mean removing themselves from the networks of support and communication that their peers are on. It would represent a disadvantage, a self-imposed isolation. 

A simple solution would be for schools to ban phones during the day — a policy that’s growing in popularity. But the teens I talked to were not entirely on board with the idea. Preeti and Mateo, who both want to reduce their screen time, object to the practice of schools banning phones, citing emergencies. Kai told me that teens need access to their phones during school hours because “sometimes at school, something could happen and you need to call your parents.” 

So, it’s a paradox. For teens, spending too much time on screens is isolating because it decreases person-to-person interaction. But spending too little time on screens is also isolating because it removes teens from the networks that connect them to their peers — and there’s a clear nervousness about not having access to a phone when you (might) need it. 

It’s easy to become discouraged during conversations about teens, screens, and mental health. Algorithms, addiction, comparison … none of it’s great. But there’s reason for hope: The teens I spoke with about all of these topics were smart and incredibly thoughtful. They’ve done the challenging work of realizing that their phones — which they don’t know life without — can do more harm than good. Now, it’s up to the adults to create ways for teens to log off, while still staying connected.