Freya India

The death of the tweenager

The death of the tweenager
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We have the 90s to thank for the birth of the 'tweenager': pop bands like S Club 7 and B•witched were targeted exclusively at this age group of girls between nine and thirteen years old. Magazines like GirlTalk indulged in chatter about puppies and Mother's Day crafts. Pre-teen girls were beginning to be considered as a commercial market but they were still very much separate from the older teenage demographic.

A 1996 edition of Girl Talk (@girltalkmags)

Two decades later, and that pre-teen phenomenon seems part of a bygone era. Young girls seem to be skipping the awkward pre-teen stage and swiftly trying to emulate the endless stream of older influencers they see online. In fact, pre-teen girls (or ‘tweens’) – those aged between nine and 12 – now seem to have the same style and interests as much older teenagers. ‘There’s no such thing as a pre-teen phase anymore,’ claimed a recent viral TikTok. In the video, a young girl explains that once pricey and in vogue pre-teen brands like Claire’s and Justice are now being sold at Walmart, as the tween demographic dies out and they struggle to stay relevant.

Last month, the Wall Street Journal warned that the rise of risqué TikTok videos posted by teen girls was causing a spike in mental health issues amongst the young. That teens are sexualising themselves online, particularly on TikTok is hardly news. But what is less remarked on is the rapid erasure of the pre-teen years as younger and younger girls pick up these online behaviours. 

All too often, underage users look far older than they really are, with girls as young as 13 and 14 being mistaken for women in their 20s. Influencer Danielle Cohn, for example – a star with 18 million fans on TikTok who posts provocative content in bikinis, lingerie and playboy bunny suits – was rumoured to be just 13 years old when she went viral.

 All kinds of commercial brands targeted toward young adults now include pre-teens in their marketing, with the ages 10-24 often treated as one group. Cutesy and wholesome tween shows like Hannah Montana, for example, have been ditched for darker, more provocative and sexualised storylines of high school students in shows like Riverdale and lately, Euphoria, a show whose demographic has been described as ‘probably 12 to 29’. All over TikTok, tween girls discuss the explicit storylines, copy the makeup styles and replicate the raunchy outfits.

Of course, this isn’t the first generation who seem in a rush to grow up. But it is the first do so in front of thousands, potentially even millions, of people online. Not only does puberty set in earlier now, but there is more pressure to look older than ever before. Gone are the days of glittery hairspray and neon knee-socks; today’s tweens have access to a mélange of professional makeup tutorials, hair styling tips, contouring tricks, filters, fashion advice, and photoshopping apps. The change has been dramatic. Even at 22, it’s scary to see how much older young teens and tweens look today compared to when I was that age.

With the constant stream of social media content and commercial pressure to buy adult products, girls are missing out on girlhood. This is a crucial stage in a development: a time when girls get to explore their identity and build a sense of self. What happens when they skip it?

A recent report reveals that thousands of girls as young as 11 are hiding signs of ‘deep distress’. By 18, girls are twice as likely to experience mental health issues than boys. Could this be because they are skipping a crucial step in their development – consuming adult content, trying to appear older without the emotional maturity to go with it? According to the Wall Street Journal, for example, 60 per cent of girls treated at one outpatient clinic for issues such as depression, anxiety and eating disorders had posted sexually inappropriate videos on TikTok.

Naturally, teens will always want to act older than their age and engage in risky behaviours – especially at a time when Instagram influencers reign supreme and self-sexualisation is so often sold as ‘empowerment’. But the pressure is now being felt far younger. With a third of TikTok users thought to be under 14 – and many being served sexually explicit content and toxic beauty trends by the automatic algorithms – girls are missing out on their tween years. I may cringe at my awkward pre-teen phase, but I also feel nostalgic for a time when I didn’t care what I looked like, compare myself to others or have the self-consciousness I had when I hit my teens. The window of time in which girls are free to be children is shrinking and that's something we should all be concerned about; what will today’s tweens feel nostalgic for? TikTok twerking challenges, face-morphing filters and selfie editing apps?

Confidence and empowerment for girls shouldn’t mean trying to look 20 at 12. Girls' mental health is deteriorating because they are attempting to jump straight from childhood into adulthood. And the cost of bypassing their girlhood appears to be tragically high: it's a life stage that is perhaps more crucial than most of us ever gave it credit for.