My son wanted to be a content creator. Then his life took a devastating turn - Newsweek

My son, Alexander, became fascinated with YouTube when he was about 10 years old. Like millions of children, he began by watching entertaining videos—sports highlights, challenges and creators whose lives appeared exciting and free. But YouTube was not simply a collection of videos that Alex chose to watch. Its algorithm studied him. It learned what held his attention and kept offering him more.

At first, it seemed harmless. Then homework began taking longer, bedtime became later and stopping became difficult. There was always another video. Alex would say that he needed only one more minute, but one video led to another and then another.

We had rules in our home, including leaving phones on the counter at night. But ordinary household rules were not designed to compete with platforms engineered to keep children engaged. The phone was only the object. The real power was inside it: the endless feed, the recommendations, the notifications and the promise that something even more exciting was about to appear.

As Alex grew older, YouTube was joined by TikTok, Snapchat and other platforms. He was no longer satisfied with watching other people. He wanted to become a content creator himself.

Alex was genuinely talented on camera. He was warm, expressive, funny, handsome and able to hold people’s attention. He began getting views and followers. Occasionally, he earned small amounts of money. Those payments were not large, but psychologically they were extremely powerful. They felt like proof that success was close. The message he received was: Keep going. Post more. You are almost there.

I believe that, gradually, Alex began measuring his life through numbers: views, likes, followers, comments and watch time. When the numbers increased, it seemed that he felt successful and hopeful. When they fell, he seemed to feel that he was failing. I think that in his eyes, his value became connected to the response of an audience and to decisions made by an algorithm he could not see or control. He started a Discord channel to increase engagement with his followers.

School increasingly felt like something standing between him and the life he saw online. He watched young creators living in beautiful houses, moving to Miami, making videos with friends and apparently earning enormous amounts of money. He talked about joining a creator house. He wanted to leave school and pursue content creation full time even before turning 18.

His parents said no. We believed that education, stability and realistic preparation for adulthood had to come first. Alex appeared to accept that decision, but his phone continued showing him young people who seemed to have rejected the conventional path and become rich and famous because of it.

The conflict inside him became visible in the notes he wrote in 2021. In one place, he told himself to stop browsing YouTube and TikTok. In another, he listed “YouTube/TikTok work” as something he needed to accomplish. Both statements were true. He recognized that the platforms were consuming his time and hurting him, but he also believed they offered the future he wanted.

He repeatedly deleted apps and then downloaded them again. He tried to control his use, but the platforms were stronger than individual promises and willpower. They offered quick excitement, hope and relief, followed by disappointment and the need to try again.

Nevertheless, Alex believed that if he could do something extraordinary, he would finally “blow up.” By early 2023, he had developed a dramatic goal: He would make the University of Southern Mississippi basketball team. Unfortunately, despite his love for basketball, he was only mildly successful at it and was not a part of any team for almost 3 years at the time. He announced the goal publicly, filmed his promise and posted it for his followers. The response reinforced the dream. What might otherwise have remained a private aspiration became a public test of his identity and worth.

The danger was not that Alex worked hard or dreamed ambitiously. The danger was that he made an extraordinary outcome into a public promise. He seemed to connect achieving that outcome with becoming successful online. It became an “if-then” belief: If I make the basketball team, then I will become famous. If I accomplish something nearly impossible, then my channel will blow up. Then my life will finally begin.

When he did not make the team, it was not simply an ordinary disappointment for him. He had already announced the goal to his audience. He felt trapped by a promise he could not fulfill and by an identity that had become dependent on achieving it.

Alex called himself a “Renaissance man.” He was right.

He did not want to be defined by one talent or one pursuit. He was a gifted writer, poet, orator and young philosopher. He played the violin for approximately 10 years. He was an accomplished chess player who competed through the United States Chess Federation and achieved a national ranking.

He was also intensely athletic. Basketball was only one part of his life. He ran, lifted weights, swam, played tennis, participated in track and enjoyed stand-up paddleboarding. He did yoga and took up boxing. He became an excellent personal trainer and helped other people become stronger and healthier. He was extremely health-conscious and disciplined about physical fitness.

Alex meditated and studied religious and philosophical traditions. He explored Buddhism and Hinduism while also engaging deeply with Christianity. He thought seriously about consciousness, morality, discipline, God, suffering and the meaning of life.

He really was the Renaissance man he believed himself to be: intellectual, artistic, musical, athletic, philosophical and spiritual. He had many gifts and many possible futures.

That is what makes his story especially painful. Social media gradually compressed this extraordinarily multidimensional young man into a narrow public score. A Renaissance man began judging his entire worth through views, followers, likes and whether his next video would finally make him famous.

Alex died by suicide on his 20th birthday. This is the story I want the memorial to tell. Alexander was not merely a young man who “used social media too much.” He was a child who became fascinated with famous creators and gradually began organizing his future, identity and sense of personal value around becoming one of them. He wanted connection. He wanted independence. He wanted to create something meaningful. Most of all, he wanted to be seen.

Content creation is here to stay, and there is nothing inherently wrong with making videos or sharing creative work. It can be a legitimate form of artistic expression, communication, humor, education and community building.

But content creation should not become the central life goal of a child. Young people should not be encouraged to build their identity, financial future or self-worth around an audience they cannot control. If minors create public content, they need meaningful adult supervision, limits on time and exposure, protection from monetization pressure and a real life outside the platform.

Young boys also need honest conversations about the online personalities they admire. Creators such as Sneako and the Tate brothers may appear powerful, wealthy, fearless and successful. But some of the messages associated with this world promote toxic ideas about masculinity, women, power, status and what it means to be a successful man. Popularity is not proof that a person is wise, healthy, ethical or worthy of imitation.

Success online is not the same as success in life.

A young creator’s value is not determined by followers, likes, views or whether a video goes viral. Algorithms distribute attention unevenly. Platforms decide what receives visibility, what is restricted and whose account is monetized or removed. Talent and hard work matter, but they do not guarantee success. The system is not designed for everyone to acquire millions of followers. That level of success is extraordinarily rare.

Algorithms keep creators engaged partly by making the next reward feel close: Perhaps the next video will go viral, the next post will bring thousands of followers, or the next dramatic challenge will finally lead to fame. Young people must understand that this feeling is part of the design. It is not evidence that success is one post away.

Do not make outrageous promises to subscribers. Do not believe you must attempt something impossible, dangerous or extraordinary to deserve attention. Do not publicly tie your worth to a single outcome.

Set goals that are specific, realistic and adjustable. Have more than one path forward. Have paths that do not rely on social media popularity. If one goal does not work out, that should never mean your future is over.

Young people must also be warned about the distorted version of “manifestation” promoted online. Positive thinking can help someone clarify a goal and remain motivated, but thoughts cannot eliminate physical limitations, probability, competition, illness or circumstances outside a person’s control. A 90-year-old cannot simply manifest becoming a NASA astronaut. Wanting something intensely does not guarantee that it will happen.

For Alex, manifesting a place on the USM basketball team became connected to manifesting online fame. When neither happened, he felt that he had failed publicly and that the future he imagined had disappeared. That combination became devastating.

Content should be something you make. It should never become the measure of who you are.

Most importantly, do not isolate yourself when you are struggling. Do not hide depression, anxiety, shame or suicidal thoughts because you are afraid of disappointing your followers, friends or family. Tell someone clearly. Talk to a parent, counselor, teacher, doctor, coach or trusted friend. If the first person does not understand, tell another person.

No failed goal, lost account, public embarrassment or disappointed audience is worth a human life. A channel can be rebuilt. A plan can be changed. A promise can be withdrawn. You are allowed to stop. You are allowed to change direction. You are allowed to live an ordinary life.

Alexander needed to know that his life was infinitely more valuable than the success of any channel. Every young creator needs to know that before the numbers begin speaking louder than the people who love them.

Elena V. Stepanova, Ph.D., is an associate professor of psychology at the University of Southern Mississippi. She wrote this essay in memory of her son, Alexander S. Motanya (Sept. 28, 2003 - Sept. 28, 2023).

If you or someone you know is considering suicide, contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by dialing 988, text "988" to the Crisis Text Line at 741741 or go to 988lifeline.org.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.