Ruby Franke was once one of the most popular YouTube family vloggers, posting videos featuring her husband and six children on her channel, 8 Passengers, that racked up more than 1 billion views.
In some, she chronicled their family vacations and family activities, such as painting together. In others, she detailed how she banned her 16-year-old son from sleeping in his bedroom for seven months and threatened to behead a stuffed animal.
In August 2023, Franke was charged with child abuse and pleaded guilty four months later.
While the crimes that led to the charges, such as denying her kids water and handcuffing them for extended periods of time, didn’t appear on 8 Passengers, her children viewed the vlogging as a larger pattern of abuse.
In October 2024, 21-year-old Shari Franke, Ruby’s oldest daughter, testified to Utah lawmakers about what being a child influencer against her will had done to her.
“I come today as a victim of family vlogging,” Shari said, “to shed light on the ethical and monetary issues that come from being a child influencer.” She added, “If I could go back and do it all again, I’d rather have an empty bank account now and not have my childhood plastered all over the internet. No amount of money I received has made what I’ve experienced worth it.”
Her testimony took place just a few weeks after California passed a law mandating that a portion of proceeds from social media content featuring kids must be set aside in a trust for the child when they turn 18.
I’m a social media researcher who’s spent the past two years advocating for the children of family vloggers. As recently as 18 months ago, I’d written about how there were no legal protections for the children of influencers, even as child actors have robust laws in place to protect their earnings.
Now that’s starting to change—but there’s still more work to be done.
New laws for a new age
Some children featured in their parents’ social media content go viral as toddlers; others have their first menstrual cycles broadcast to the world; and they can be pressured by their parents to be the talent that sustains their family’s financial livelihood.
California has the Coogan Act, which protects the financial interests of entertainers under 18. But this was passed in 1939, long before the rise of social media; until recently, there has been no comparable Coogan Act for the children of family vloggers.
In August 2023, however, Illinois became the first U.S. state to pass a law protecting the financial interests of the children of family vlogging. The bill requires parents to put aside 50% of the earnings for a piece of content featuring their child. The money must go into a trust that the child can access upon turning 18. If there’s no money available for them, they can sue their parents.
Minnesota was the next state to pass this kind of legislation, in May 2024. This one went beyond financial considerations, prohibiting children under 14 from appearing in more than 30% of their parents’ social media content. If children do appear in these videos and the videos are monetized, money must be put into an account, similar to Illinois.
In December 2023, I consulted with legislators on drafts of California’s measure. This bill, which was signed into law in September 2024, is similar to Illinois’s law but has been considered an important step in regulating family vlogging content given the state’s relationship with the entertainment industry.
Work is work
These laws are not geared toward the casual parent who wants to share a picture of their child on Facebook or Instagram. They’re putting guardrails in place for a form of child labor that, until recently, has gone wildly unchecked.
In the spring of 2024, I provided written testimony to the state of Missouri, which was considering its own law. I pointed out that there are more than 500 hours of video uploaded to YouTube every minute, TikTok boasts more than 150 million active monthly users in the U.S. alone, and Instagram users watch 17.6 million hours of Reels per day. I explained how, over the past decade, I’ve interviewed more than 150 content creators and influencers—and I’ll often hear them say they’ve been paid upward of $8,000 per post.
Brand sponsorships remain a gray area in these laws; most of the new legislation encompasses only payments directly from platforms. But I want to emphasize that we’re not talking about a few extra bucks here and there. It can be enough money to raise a family. And it’s work—for everyone involved.
What’s next
Illinois, Minnesota, and California may have passed laws, but the issue remains on the table elsewhere.
Washington state has tried to introduce such a bill, and Shari Franke’s testimony came as Utah begins considering its own legislation.
However, I believe that any work on combating the problem of exploiting children for social media demands a holistic approach.
Importantly, children cannot consent to appearing in their parents’ content. While it may seem fun to appear in mom or dad’s video, young children have no concept of the internet’s dangers. They don’t understand that content can move beyond its intended audience. They don’t understand that the internet is forever—that one day, when they’re applying to college or for jobs, Google search results may yield their baby photos.
In 2023, Maryland attempted to introduce legislation that would include Right To Be Forgotten provisions—an addendum allowing children to request social media platforms delete content about them when they turn 18. The measure never gained momentum, and the bill stalled. But states can look to the European Union, which has some of the strongest Right to Be Forgotten legislation in the world, for inspiration.
Social media platforms also have a role to play. If they wanted to, they could regulate or ban monetized content centered on children. That being said, family vlogging content is a moneymaker for platforms: It racks up billions of views, which keeps audiences on the hosting site, such as YouTube or Instagram, for longer. So you might assume that platforms would never intervene on their own if it risked hurting their bottom line.
But one thing I’ve learned from studying social media platform governance is that public opinion matters. And in my ongoing research on family vlogging, I’ve witnessed a massive shift in public opinion over the past two years, as the press pays more attention to the phenomenon, content creators and audiences are more critical of it, and former children of family vloggers, like Shari Franke, tell their stories.
If platforms can quickly churn out their own versions of AI chatbots, they can build teams to figure out how to help regulate and enforce family vlogging legislation in the U.S.—and have the opportunity, in my view, to be on the right side of history.
Jessica Maddox is an assistant professor of journalism and creative media at the University of Alabama.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
