‘Who is That? What is That?’ Parents Are Baffled by the Celebrities Their Kids Love
“She was just going crazy,” says Pinellas. “I have never seen her react that way.”
It turned out her 14-year-old daughter Khaloni Crowell had recognized a clothing-store clerk as “Dhatboiitre,” a young TikTok personality who posts prank, lip sync and comedy videos for his 1.1 million followers.
Pinellas, who is 42, isn’t among them. Though a regular at the shop, she had no idea she had been buying sports jerseys from a social-media star until then.
An entertainment gulf has long existed between adults and their children. Stars and shows that attract kids can repel parents. It happened with Mötley Crüe, “Beavis and Butt-Head,” “South Park”—even Elvis.
Today, though, the way we consume media has widened that chasm. Not long ago, a single TV blasted from the living room. Parents didn’t always enjoy what their children watched, but at least they were exposed to it.
Generations now inhabit separate digital worlds, consuming separate servings of entertainment. Parents often still favor TV and movies while younger viewers skew toward social media and the “content creators that keep it all moving,” said a Deloitte report.
The divide now seems bigger than ever because most every family member has their own smartphone, tablet or laptop to stare at, says Jenna Drenten, a marketing professor at Loyola University Quinlan School of Business in Chicago.
Scores of online personalities enjoy star status among children, yet most parents have no idea who they are, why they are famous or even how to watch them.
Parents often monitor screen time, but can’t hover nonstop—particularly over teens. Youngsters also learn about online celebrities through friends, leaving puzzled parents trying to catch up via other adults.
“What do I need to know about the YouTuber Beluga?” a mom asked recently on a popular parenting forum.
“I just looked it up. It is a cat?” said one reply.
In the Chicago area, Emily Ryan’s oldest son, Bear, started constantly talking about “Unspeakable.”
“Who is that? What is that?” Ryan, who is 40, recalls asking.
Unspeakable is a YouTuber with more than 16 million subscribers; he often wears a baseball cap backward and does oddball moves such as filling a school bus with slime.
Ryan preferred shows such as “Full House” and “Family Matters” while growing up. Like many of parenting peers, she has tried, and struggled, to relate to the odd assortment of celebrities captivating her children.
Earlier this year, Ryan spent close to $30 on tickets for Bear, now 8, and two siblings to watch an online broadcast of a live event Unspeakable was hosting. They made popcorn and tuned in from their living room. The children were rapt, while mom was befuddled.
The YouTuber “literally just stood on a stage and talked,” and hardly did any pranks, she says. “I’m not even sure what the purpose of the event was.”
Raymond Nichols, 41, of Rochester, N.H., can barely keep track of the stars his girls follow. Lately, he says, it is “some guy who makes videos of himself playing with puppies.”
The girls also enjoy LankyBox, a YouTube duo who shout and play piercing sound effects. “I can’t stand it,” says Nichols. “It is obnoxious.”
His two oldest daughters, ages seven and five, have even started talking like LankyBox and calling their father “bruh.”
Nichols nudged his girls to try one of his childhood shows, “Barney & Friends,” but says, “they just watched the first half and were done with it.”
Orlando, Fla.-area resident Adam Rosenberg barely watches YouTube and wouldn’t know about MrBeast, arguably the biggest name in social media, if not for his 10-year-old son Nate.
MrBeast’s stunts include spending 50 hours buried alive in a coffin and directing a train into a pit. Rosenberg, 42, thinks the influencer is immature and a poor role model.
“He’s really cool,” says Nate. “I’d rather meet him than anyone else.”
At Universal Studios in Florida, young fans swamped videogame influencer Nick Armstrong.
“The parents or older folks are like, what’s going on over here?” says Armstrong, 22. “The children explain it to them.”
Social-media personalities appeal to children because they are usually unscripted and look like regular people. In Grand Junction, Colo., four-year-old Oliver Schneikart fixates on Greg’s World, a YouTube channel featuring a family with a boy around Oliver’s age shopping, dining out and traveling.
“What he wants to watch is real people living their life,” says his mother, Karalee Schneikart.
Oliver prefers that over the best Disney has to offer, she says, while she finds the interest kind of weird.
“What is so exciting about watching someone pick out a toy?” she says.
Some parents are trying to re-create the family TV night. Trying to “detox” her sons from their iPads this summer, Avital Rubin of Staten Island, N.Y., turned the TV to “America’s Funniest Home Videos”—which made its debut in 1989.
The video format clicked with her boys, ages 13 and 11.
Is the show, they have asked her, an old version of YouTube? When she said no, it is a compilation of home videos submitted by viewers, they asked if they were looking at memes. Rubin wasn’t sure how to respond but is glad they are enjoying it.
“This is giving them that same dopamine rush as YouTube,” she says. “It feels great in the sense that we’re sitting down as a family and laughing at the same thing.”
Cecelia Pedroza, from Austin, Texas, says her son Anthony, 11, adores Logdotzip, who makes videos about the videogame “Minecraft.” Why her son likes these videos, Pedroza has no idea—she doesn’t see the attraction.
Pedroza, 40, tried getting them into Star Wars, which she loved at their age, and even bought them action figures from the franchise.
“They didn’t want the toys,” she says, “so I kept them for myself.”
Write to Sarah E. Needleman at [email protected]
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