In the ever-expanding world of digital media, one of the most overlooked yet pressing concerns is the rise of kidfluencers, children who become public figures on platforms like YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok. These young content creators are often celebrated as adorable, entrepreneurial, or even inspirational, but beneath the surface of carefully curated content lies a much darker reality: a glaring lack of legal protection.
Unlike traditional child performers in film, television, or advertising, kidfluencers typically operate outside the ambit of existing labor laws. In the entertainment industry, child actors are protected by regulations that limit working hours, ensure portions of their earnings are safeguarded in trust accounts, and mandate the presence of welfare supervisors on set. These mechanisms are put in place to shield minors from exploitation, overwork, and financial abuse. However, none of these protections extend to the digital influencer space, primarily because content creation is not formally recognised as employment in most legal systems.
This legal grey zone is what allows kidfluencing to flourish without adequate oversight. Parents and guardians, often acting as both producers and managers, exercise full control over the creation and monetisation of content involving their children. In most cases, there is no contract, no third-party accountability, and no clear demarcation between personal life and professional labour. Children, essentially, become unpaid performers for a commercial enterprise built within their own homes.
At the heart of this issue lies the question of consent. Adults have the ability to evaluate risk and make informed decisions about their digital presence. Children, especially those under the age of 13, lack both the legal capacity and cognitive maturity to understand the permanence and consequences of having their personal lives broadcast to millions. Whether it is a toddler’s tantrum or a child’s milestone, intimate moments are often shared for public consumption, permanently recorded on the internet. This loss of privacy is not always reversible, and the effects can be far-reaching, from emotional distress to real-world harm such as identity theft, stalking, or online harassment.
In India, there is currently no legislation specifically tailored to address the rights of child influencers or regulate their presence on monetised platforms. Existing child labour laws under the Child and Adolescent Labour (Prohibition and Regulation) Act, 1986, primarily focus on hazardous work and factory conditions, offering little clarity on digital or home-based forms of labour. The Information Technology Act, 2000, while addressing issues of online safety and cybercrimes, does not touch upon content monetisation involving minors. Similarly, the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act, though critical in preventing abuse, is limited in scope when it comes to economic exploitation or privacy violations in non-sexual contexts.
This vacuum of regulation stands in stark contrast to the growing commercial viability of child-led content. Today, brand collaborations, product placements, and advertising deals can bring in substantial income, often running into lakhs or crores annually. Yet, there is no legal framework to ensure that a child receives a fair share of this revenue or that their wellbeing is prioritised over engagement metrics. In many cases, the line between documentation and exploitation becomes dangerously thin.
Globally, the response has been sporadic. France became the first country to pass a specific law in 2020 addressing the rights of child influencers. The legislation mandates parental declarations for monetised content, sets limits on filming hours, and requires a portion of the earnings to be held in a special savings account accessible only when the child turns 18.
The law also recognises a child’s “right to be forgotten” by allowing them to request the removal of online content posted during their childhood. However, such legal foresight remains rare.
In contrast, countries like the United States rely heavily on the Coogan Law, originally enacted in the 1930s for child actors, which some states have attempted to adapt to include social media stars. But enforcement is inconsistent, and most online content remains self-regulated. In the United Kingdom, existing child labour laws cover broadcast media but remain largely silent on influencer activity. These international examples highlight both the urgency and the complexity of the issue.
What makes the situation more concerning is the widespread normalization of child-led content. Audiences engage with it as entertainment, brands treat it as marketing gold, and platforms benefit from endless streams of monetisable clicks, yet few pause to question the child’s autonomy, mental health, or legal rights. Unlike regulated workplaces, there is no designated authority to intervene if a child is overworked, humiliated on camera, or pushed to participate despite discomfort.
In the absence of legislation, recourse is practically nonexistent. If a child wishes to withdraw from public life or challenge the use of their image, there are no clear legal remedies available. There is no mandatory oversight body, no tribunal for digital exploitation of minors, and no audit mechanism to track how income from brand deals or ad revenue is distributed within the family. Once a video is uploaded, the child’s likeness may circulate indefinitely across platforms, sometimes even used in contexts they never agreed to, such as memes, reaction videos, or compilations on third-party channels.
The urgency to address these gaps is not just theoretical. As younger and younger children enter the world of content creation, often with their parents as facilitators, the need for structured legal protection becomes critical. The state must step in to define boundaries, ensure transparency, and most importantly, protect the rights and dignity of minors navigating the digital world.
In conclusion, the phenomenon of kidfluencers may seem like a benign by-product of modern parenting and online creativity, but it is underpinned by significant legal and ethical concerns. The digital space has evolved rapidly, but our legal systems have not kept pace with its youngest and most vulnerable participants. Until robust frameworks are implemented, the world of kidfluencing will remain an unregulated domain of child labour, commercialised, commodified, and hidden in plain sight behind family-friendly thumbnails and brand sponsorships.
