In 2019, when Sophie* was 12 years old, her classmates shared “extreme and traumatic” videos featuring al-Qaeda beheadings, pornography, and bestiality. She recalls online games where adult players tried to persuade her to meet in person. Her father worked there, but reflecting back, she says, “There were no signs for my generation of parents.”

Now 18 and attending the University of Edinburgh, she didn’t permit her children to have smartphones until adulthood. “As a teenager, I would have been the strongest advocate for phone ownership, but my perspective changed completely,” she stated.

“You shouldn’t engage online until you’re an adult and understand the various ways people act respectfully to push their interests. It’s a fleeting message.”

Social media exacerbated bullying at Sophie’s school. Officials used an anonymous confession app to share hurtful comments. She also ponders what other time she might have wasted.

Sophie is one of many so-called digital natives who question the nearly unrestricted access to technology they grew up with. Recent polls indicate that nearly half of young people feel the internet is almost non-existent, with similar numbers favoring digital curfews; over three-quarters reported feeling worse about themselves after using social media.

Meanwhile, the Netflix hit series has ignited discussions about the dangers children face on social media and the prevalence of online misogyny across different platforms.

Izzy Bourick, a 24-year-old artist from Brighton living in Paris, believes that platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and Roblox have muddled the lines between children’s and adults’ spaces in recent years.

“I engaged with the online children’s game Club Penguin, where the environment was controlled to be child-friendly, banning inappropriate language.”

Nonetheless, Izzy stated, “I was definitely exposed to things I wasn’t ready for,” adding, “everyone from my generation has been in chat rooms with people much older than us.”

She permits kids to have smartphones from the age of 17. “It’s not fit for children, nor for those not equipped to handle it,” she explains, “it’s unsafe to navigate without guidance.”

She feels social media has become overwhelming, “cannibalized by advertising and businesses,” spreading misinformation on sensitive issues like mental health and neurological conditions. “Suddenly, my phone was inundating me with messages that I was doing everything wrong, only to turn around and pitch products to me.”

This shift left her anxious and frustrated, prompting her to choose a flip phone, which feels liberating and has helped her reclaim her time and mental clarity.

Tobias, 20 from Austria, got his first smartphone around 11 or 12, and noticed a change in his peers. “People would sit together but wouldn’t talk—everyone just scrolled on their phones.”

His school implemented a policy to turn off phones, but teachers quickly abandoned it. “There was always a buzz and the constant sound of notifications,” he recalled.

As a teenager, he found himself binge-watching videos on YouTube and Instagram. “After scrolling through short videos for hours and reflecting, ‘Wow, that was fast—I’m neglecting what I want to do,’ I recognized I was in a state of despair.”

Tobias became particularly concerned when his interest in first-person shooter games led to algorithm recommendations showcasing real firearms and violent content. He now believes, “It’s best for children and teens to limit their smartphone usage.”

Lethe, a 20-year-old paramedic student near Birmingham, England, allowed children to use smartphones only after age 16 and restricted their media access.

She received her first smartphone at 18 but quickly realized that it contributed to bullying among friends, reduced attention spans, and replaced meaningful conversations with endless scrolling on social media.

Two years after getting her first phone, she remarked, “It definitely changed me. I’m not good at being bored, and my attention span has decreased. I’m struggling to be present. Social media algorithms expose me to things I don’t wish to see.”

Nora, a project manager in Spain, restricts social media access until age 13 and limits usage while fostering open dialogue about risks with children. “When they encounter something distressing, I strive to create a trusting environment so they feel comfortable discussing it with me.”

She recalls a situation where, at 13, she and her peers began receiving messages from strangers on Google Messages, leading to inappropriate requests and a subsequent case of pedophilia.

She also remembers a classmate who bullied peers on messaging apps. “I faced some harsh messages myself,” she shared.

Nora later discovered that social media had worsened her struggles with eating disorders as she compared herself to other girls and engaged with harmful weight loss transformation videos. “Chasing likes on Instagram wasn’t healthy for me.”

Now, she worries about her 16-year-old brother. “His TikTok is filled with misogynistic concepts and toxic masculinity. His friends make harmful comments about women’s bodies. That wasn’t the environment for me and my friends.”

*Name changed