At a recent outdoor Christmas service, I observed a woman—entirely unreserved—filming a group of children I knew (whom she didn’t know), then immediately uploading the footage to social media as the performance continued. No one asked the children. No one asked the parents. And no one questioned it.
But perhaps we should.
What rights do we have—even as parents—to publicly document a child’s life? Would they consent, if they truly understood? And will they wish they had been asked, years from now?
What Is Digital Consent for Children?
In conversations about online safety, we often focus on filters, screen time limits and parental controls. Yet we rarely talk about something even more fundamental: a child’s right to privacy. In the digital age, the concept of consent becomes more complex—especially when applied to children who may not yet grasp the consequences of their image or story being shared online.
Digital consent goes beyond asking a child if they’re “okay with a photo.” It involves recognising that their identity, their facial dat and their digital footprint are all being shaped—often permanently—by adults who share with good intentions, but without fully understanding the longer-term implications. According to the UK’s Children’s Code (introduced by the Information Commissioner’s Office), services accessed by children must prioritise their best interests, including privacy. Yet these values are often absent in the casual everyday posting of a child’s image.
Why It Matters More Than Ever
We’re creating permanent digital records of people before they’ve had a voice in the matter. In a world of facial recognition, AI scraping, and data profiling, the idea of a harmless photo posted on Instagram or Facebook no longer exists in isolation. Once an image is online, we cannot know how it will be stored, analysed, or reused—particularly by platforms whose business model is built around harvesting user data.
Research by the UK’s Ofcom and ParentZone shows that by the age of 13, the average child already has more than 1,300 photos of themselves online—many uploaded without their knowledge or permission. This concept, sometimes referred to as “sharenting,” raises questions not only about privacy but about ownership of identity. In years to come, children may wish they had been asked, or had a say in the stories shared about them online.
Are We Asking—Or Assuming?
As parents, guardians, or even bystanders at school events, we often act with pride, excitement, or joy when capturing moments of childhood. Yet we might pause to ask: are we documenting the moment, or sharing it for others to see? Is it really for the child—or for us?
It’s easy to assume consent when a child smiles for the camera. But that smile may reflect a desire to please, not an understanding of what “online” really means. Many children don’t yet have the developmental maturity to assess risk or understand the concept of digital permanence. As their guides, we are responsible for protecting not just their safety, but their right to choose when and how their identity is shared with the world.
Looking Instead of Filming
There’s another quiet consequence of this sharing culture. In reaching for our phones, we risk missing the moment entirely. While we record, filter, and upload, we are no longer fully present. We watch through a lens, not with our own eyes.
These unrepeatable moments—the messy, beautiful, human ones—deserve to be witnessed, not just captured. There’s something deeply powerful about choosing to be fully present. No device. No recording. Just attention. It honours the child, the moment and the memory in a way no upload ever can.
So What Might Consent Look Like?
It might begin with a pause. A question: “Would you like me to take this photo?” followed by a second one to ourselves: do I really need to share it? Would they like me to share it?
It could mean setting boundaries within families—protecting younger siblings from overexposure, giving older children a say in their digital presence. It may also mean choosing not to post, even when the picture is lovely and the moment feels special.
There are no perfect answers. Only better questions. But asking them is a step towards protecting the autonomy of the people we love most.
They’re not content. They’re children.
And they deserve the same dignity we expect for ourselves.
For more on navigating tech and childhood thoughtfully, you may find our post Smartphone-Free Childhood helpful.
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Clare
Holistic Therapist | Co-Creator of The Conscious Parent | Designer.
We are our own ecosystem shaped by the spaces we inhabit, the materials we choose, the way we nurture our well-being, and how we raise our children with intention.
Every detail, though quiet and subtle, contributes to a shared rhythm of conscious living.
This philosophy guides The Conscious Parent Company and informs my approach to both therapy and brand design—creating with care, presence and purpose.