My mom always told me I had a creative brain when I was a kid. I would drag her and my dad into our backyard and make them run around with me, flapping our arms like the birds in “Rio.” Despite how exhausting it was, they played along with my games; they just loved seeing how much joy it brought me.
My parents had a strict “no screentime” rule in my house, especially during the summer. My younger brother and I could watch a 30-minute show in the morning or afternoon. Once our screentime was up, we had to go outside or do something active without TV or the Wii.
I constantly played in the backyard. My friends and I would play “story games” for hours on end, pretending to be our favorite movie characters. Some days, we were pro snowboarders with silly voices. Others, we were Jedi masters who fought with plastic lightsabers until they bent and broke from our battles.
This rule was the same at the dinner table. Whenever we ate at restaurants, my family would try to name all of the NHL and NFL teams (I was always the first person to lose). They kept us off their phones and engaged in the world around us.
As a result of my childhood, I did not pay much attention to my looks. My mom let me wear whatever I wanted to. I also did not feel the need to wear makeup. I would throw on my favorite items of clothing, no matter how they looked: my pink polka-dot dress, my favorite dinosaur shirt or my Ariel dress that I would wear for days on end.
Once, when I was scrolling through TikTok, I came across an eight-year-old filming a “Get ready with me” video. She proudly smeared retinol over her porcelain skin and caked on Rare Beauty blush. I opened the comments and found diverse responses. Some users praised the young girl, saying that she was playing with makeup or complimenting her looks. Others said they will never raise their kids like that and that they had a childhood when they were younger.
While I was shopping once at Sephora, I ran into two tween girls clutching Drunk Elephant moisturizer, dressed head to toe in Lululemon. They chatted with each other about which makeup they liked more as they carried a basket full of products. As they sped past me, they reached for items far beyond my own makeup budget with neon-pink acrylic nails.
I certainly did not look that way when I was younger.
In restaurants today, I don’t see the same lively conversations between families as when I was younger. While getting dinner with my family at one of our favorite restaurants, I noticed a young family sitting together at a small table. The children stared at iPads bigger than their heads, silently tapping on the bright screens with ketchup-covered fingers as their parents fed them chicken tenders.
I browsed through Hollister’s website, searching for new potential treasures. However, when I selected a piece of clothing I thought was cute, it was not available in my size. In fact, almost all of the popular items were out of my size. I was left with either sizing up or picking from leftover pieces. A friend of mine claimed it was because all of the kids are buying from the same stores as adults, changing the sizing demographic. She had a point.
I did not get my first phone until I was in sixth grade. My world expanded into the deep abyss of social media. When I downloaded Instagram, I told my parents that I would not get jealous of my peers and what they post on social media. This proved to be true for a long time. However, as I grew older, I began to compare my differences with influencers and friends.
I suddenly noticed the flaws in my skin, the clothes I did not have and the trips that I wasn’t going on. After years of adoring my own style of outfits, I became self-conscious of the way I dressed and how my hair looked. Rather than wanting to explore the outside world, I obsessed over keeping up my Snapchat streaks and increasing my Instagram followers.
My desire for acceptance through social media consumed me. I wore more makeup to cover up my acne marks. I cared less about what I wanted to wear and more about what other people would think was acceptable.
Luckily, I have grown and realized the falsities of social media. My confidence has increased, and I realized my worth is not determined by the number of heart-shaped signals of approval. However, I do not want any kid to experience my same pain.
Even though I am utterly jealous of kids who seem like they did not experience an “awkward phase” as a kid, with clunky braces or colorful glasses, I am grateful for my childhood.
I did not understand my parents’ rule of limited time spent watching TV or playing video games at the time. Looking back on it now, I’m grateful for the effort that my parents put into keeping us away from screens and focused on interacting with real people and the real world. They protected my childhood, and I hope to do the same for my future children.
