Cartoons, clicks and consequences

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Recently, I found myself in an uncomfortable but necessary conversation with one of my daughters. It’s remarkable how schoolyards across Trinidad and Tobago, from San Fernando to Port of Spain, hum with the same energy. Children, regardless of geography, read...

Recently, I found myself in an uncomfortable but necessary conversation with one of my daughters. It’s remarkable how schoolyards across Trinidad and Tobago, from San Fernando to Port of Spain, hum with the same energy. Children, regardless of geography, read the same novels, ­mimic the latest TikTok dances, online games and trade opinions about trending Netflix series.

Yet, when these common threads veer into inappropriate territory, that same interconnectedness becomes deeply troubling. Take, for example, Big Mouth, a Netflix series now popular among both primary and secondary school students. Although it was never intended for young viewers, it has become part of everyday conversation.



The show, like many others, is laced with mature themes and sexual undertones. Its cartoon-style visuals—once the realm of children’s content—make it more enticing and dangerously, disarming. That ­familiar visual mode becomes a Trojan horse, making explicit content more palatable, even appealing, to the untrained eye of a child.

The issue is not only the existence of such shows, but their unchecked availability. In a world where content is on-demand and ­algorithms offer little moral compass, children are being exposed to messages they cannot yet filter, contextualise or challenge. The ­result? A silent, steady desensitisation to ­sexual norms, warped expectations and distorted views of appropriate behaviour, relationships and identity.

Some argue that children will inevitably encounter these realities; however, premature, unfiltered exposure, especially without guidance, can plant harmful seeds. Left ­unchecked, these seeds grow into confusion, anxiety, and vulnerability to exploitation. This is not hypothetical.

Last week, a national forum on cyber-grooming, hosted by the Gender and Child Affairs Division, brought together parents, educators, child rights advocates and psychologists. The message was clear: the digital world, though innovative, is not inherently safe for children. Renelle White, assistant director of the Division, explained how grooming often starts on platforms children frequent—games, chat rooms, social media.

Predators pose as peers, mirroring interests and language to build trust, leaving invisible scars on children who lack the tools to identify or articulate what’s happening. Considering these dangers, silence becomes complicity. We need proactive, not reactive, solutions.

Finland offers a strong example: digital literacy is part of the national curriculum from preschool, teaching children to critically ­assess media, distinguish fact from fiction and identify unsafe content. Parents are ­actively engaged as digital mentors, supported with resources to guide their children through these spaces. This approach works because it respects both the intelligence and vulnerability of children.

It’s not about instilling fear, but empowering young minds to question, discern and make safe choices. Trinidad and Tobago must adopt a robust sustained approach. Media literacy should be integral to our curriculum, not a mere add-on.

National dialogue must go beyond isolated events and parents need continuous support, not criticism. Yet, no policy can replace the irreplaceable: the presence of a trusted adult. Whether parent, teacher, or community member, we are often the first and sometimes only line of defence.

We must stay vigilant about what our children consume, who they interact with and the values shaping their worldview. We must talk to our children about sex, relationships, consent and emotional boundaries—not in fear, but with clarity. We must set digital boundaries, implement parental controls and make the rules of engagement just as important as homework and chores.

Importantly, this is not just a moral responsibility—it is a legal one. As a signatory to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, Trinidad and Tobago is legally bound to protect children from sexual exploitation and harmful content. Every child has the right to grow in a safe environment, with access to truthful, age-appropriate information that nurtures their dignity and ­potential.

Furthermore, even as national attention rightly turns to tomorrow’s general election, we must remember what democracy truly calls us to do. Voting isn’t just about selecting leaders—it’s a declaration of the principles we expect to be upheld. It’s a commitment to justice, a call for meaningful policy and a promise to safeguard the well-being of every citi­zen—especially those who cannot yet speak for themselves.

Will these individuals stand up for child protection in the digital world? Will they push for robust media literacy across our schools? Will they demand accountability from tech platforms for the content targeting our children and, just as importantly, will we hold ourselves to that same standard? Legislation may start with government, but real change begins with us. Safe spaces aren’t accidental; they are the result of deliberate action—honest conversations, clear boundaries and choices rooted in awareness and care. We don’t need to shelter children in isolation.

Rather, we must holistically equip them to navigate an increasingly complex world with wisdom, courage and support. Let us make media awareness as normal as math. Let us treat online safety as seriously as physical safety.

Let us teach our children not only what to avoid but why. For while the show may shout; it is our ­national voice built on vigilance, shaped by our vote and anchored in our values that must rise above the noise. Our children watching, wondering, waiting, deserve nothing less.

—Scarlet Benois-Selman is an educator, author and advocate for equity..