Not that long ago, social media’s dangers felt easier to spot, writes Connie Watters, a senior planner at DDB Group Melbourne, in this latest edition of B&T’s Culture Bites.
Back in the early 2010s, we saw people dangling off skyscrapers for the ultimate selfie, or pranking strangers in ways that teetered on the edge of real-world harm—all for likes, clout, and a viral moment. On Tumblr, the glorification of skinny bodies painted eating disorders in pastel filters and poetry quotes, quietly influencing a generation’s relationship with food and body image.
It was troubling, yes—but slower. There was time to catch your breath. The signals were there, just not pulsing through the global nervous system that today’s social now can.
Today, unhealthy behaviours aren’t just amplified by social—they’re manufactured for it. And they’re spreading faster than we can track, react, or counter.
They surface, surge, and saturate feeds in a matter of hours, shaping norms instantly through the validation of a comments section or repetition of a now-trained algo.
Take, for example, the recent trend of bikini tan lines.
Young girls were posting photos celebrating burnt red lines across their upper body, actively encouraging each other to “cook” in the sun just long enough to leave a clear mark. Apps were even popping up to help users calculate exactly how long to lie outside for the ideal stripe—no SPF, no safety precautions. Just burns, for aesthetics. Then came the tanning pills—digestible enhancers marketed to accelerate melanin production. Never mind the lack of regulation or the glaring link between UV exposure and skin cancer; the race for the perfect summer body image took precedence.
In another corner of the internet, something darker is brewing. The rise of the ‘manosphere’—a digital echo chamber that breeds resentment, misogyny, and warped views of gender dynamics. Influenced by incel culture and the so-called “80/20 rule” (the idea that 80 per cent of women only want the top 20 per cent of men), young boys are being subtly—and sometimes not-so-subtly—taught to see women as enemies, assets, or prizes to be won. Shows like Netflix’s Adolescence are bravely peeling back the curtain on this world, but the damage is already real: a growing number of boys are falling into pipelines that normalise entitlement, dominance, and even violence.
And then there’s skincare. What used to be a gentle introduction to hygiene and self-care, which you could only really access at Priceline, has now become an expensive, high-stakes game of chemical roulette. Pre-teens are layering retinol, acids, and potent exfoliants—products meant for mature, aging skin—simply because they’ve seen their favourite creators do it. The pressure to achieve “glass skin” has led kids barely out of primary school to drop hundreds at Sephora, chasing a perfection that doesn’t even exist. The overuse of these ingredients can lead to irreversible sensitivity, hyperpigmentation, and long-term skin barrier damage.
All of this is happening fast. Too fast. So, how should for-purpose organisations react?
First, be prepared to counter frenzy with facts. Respected ‘voices in the culture’ that can provide evidence and education in the right way should be ready to add or stitch themselves to the conversation.
Second, find their spaces and listen. Pick up the vocab. Build a glossary. Our partners at Our Watch do this exceptionally well with The Line, which is why it’s such a respected voice for relationships and sex amongst teens and young adults.
Third, don’t try to crash the party like a cringey Millennial would (speaking as one).
Often these behaviours are perceived as fun, drive a sense of belonging, or are even aspirational. Find alternative behaviours that let them feel good, connected or engaged in life – but in a safe way.
In a world where behaviours can go from niche to normalised overnight, we can’t rely on the old, slow ways of messaging or prevention. If we want to be a force for good, we need to move faster. Be more agile. Speak their language, at their speed, on their turf.
Because if we don’t—if we miss the beat—we risk becoming irrelevant. Worse, we risk losing entire generations to cycles of self-harm, disconnection, and misinformation.
