By: Abdulhameed Ridwanullah
On July 22, 2015, the then-spouse of Nigerian Afrobeats queen Tiwa Savage, Tunji “Tee Billz” Balogun, announced the birth of their son, Jamil, on social media with an image of the father and son’s hands. This, no doubt, was an intimate moment. But beneath that act was the normalization of what researchers described as “sharenting”. Sharenting is a pervasive practice of documenting every stage of a child’s life online. From the baby shower, scan pictures, delivery room and other “first” images in the life of the baby documented for public gaze, sharenting has become normalized to an extent that those calling for caution are regarded as old-school.
Sharenting is now recognized globally as a growing digital privacy concern because it exposes children to long-term data risks they cannot consent to. But in Nigeria, the consequences are amplified by our unique digital ecosystem.
What makes sharenting particularly risky in Nigeria is not only what online platforms do, but what we (users) do. On the users’ part, Nigerians’ platform usage has shown a pattern of resistance that outsmarts platforms’ regulations. In my research on platform resistance, I argued that Nigerians have developed what I call a digital okada culture: creative, evasive practices that bypass platform safeguards the same way commercial motorcycle riders bypass formal road rules. Screenshots, screen recording, parallel WhatsApp accounts, anonymous repost pages and third-party aggregators routinely move supposedly “private” content into the open, uncontrolled publics.
We have seen photos of the naming ceremonies privately shared on WhatsApp status, making their way anonymously to Instagram gossip pages like Instablog9ja and other similar gossip blogs. Simply put, a controlled WhatsApp status update can end up on strangers’ phones instantaneously. Our digital culture in Nigeria is a highly porous ecosystem where content easily escapes parents’ control, which complicates sharenting.
It is instinctive for proud parents to want to celebrate their joy with friends and family. Culturally and religiously speaking, giving birth is not a small feat. It is one of the memorable achievements in one’s life.
The magnitude and social significance of it alone are good reasons to celebrate and post children online. For diaspora families, social media posts also help them connect with grandchildren and relatives not seen physically. On the surface, this looks like a harmless practice. But once it is placed inside a digital okada culture, the comfort of “I only shared it with my contacts” becomes an illusion.
Even mainstream financial institutions have begun to warn that oversharing children’s information online can create future vulnerabilities. A 2018 BBC news report indicated that Barclays Bank forecasted that by 2030, sharenting could result in £670 million in online fraud. The bank added that parents might be “lulled into a false sense of security” without grasping the long-term implications of oversharing online. That warning is not just about money; it is about the long tail of our children’s data.
But financial fraud is only a small fragment of the risk. The bigger problem is how children’s data feeds an entire economic system. As I have written previously, the “paradox of social media is that a digital footprint is both transient and permanent”. It is transient because our post quickly disappears from most feeds, but the metadata is stored permanently in corporate databases. This is what Harvard professor Shoshana Zuboff calls surveillance capitalism.
Sharenting allows surveillance capitalism to thrive because parents voluntarily funnel massive intimate behavioural data about their children into algorithms. This behavioural data could be monetised by building a detailed, lifelong predictive profile of the children. According to privacy researchers, children’s photos that people share online are being used to train facial recognition algorithms and AI systems.
Think about that! Our children’s faces are being used to teach machines without our or their consent. Parents’ excitement often leads to the surrender of children’s data to platforms without their consent. Even celebrities who build careers on social media visibility, like Rihanna and Cardi B, are choosing to obscure their children’s faces to mitigate risk. Drake famously raps in the Emotionless track that “I wasn’t hiding my kid from the world; I was hiding the world from my kid”.
Many Nigerian parents take comfort in the illusion of privacy of End-to-End Encrypted messaging platforms. They assume that posting baby photos on WhatsApp Status, especially to a restricted contact list, is safer than throwing them on Instagram. Messages on WhatsApp are encrypted, no doubt; however, that alone does not mean data extraction isn’t taking place.
Metadata about what we share (e.g., baby photos), who we talk to, when, location, duration, and frequency are extractable and shareable data that the platforms can use to build a behavioural pattern.
In other words, even when images disappear, their informational shadows remain.
Beyond the momentary applause and privacy concern, what happens when these children grow up and do not appreciate their lives being displayed online and their privacy being taken away? Teenagers are already suing their parents in Europe for unconsented exposure. It is only a matter of time before a similar conflict emerges in Nigeria. I am not a technological Luddite. Far from it. I am just a concerned technology researcher who cares about the use and misuse of social media.
In a country shaped by digital okada culture, parents cannot assume that what they post about their children will stay where they intended. Sharenting is not just about cute photos; it is about handing our children’s futures to platforms, algorithms and a porous digital public they did not choose.
Nigeria needs greater digital literacy around children’s rights. There is also a need for more public awareness campaigns and discussion about consent beginning at home. Parents must think beyond the moment of joy and consider the digital futures they are constructing for their children.
Abdulhameed Ridwanullah is a researcher at Media for Empowerment and Impact Lab, Northeastern University, Boston, USA. He can be reached at olaitanrido@yahoo.com