The cost of growing up in the entertainment industry

“I’m Glad My Mom Died” by Jennette McCurdy—actress known for various adored Gen-Z titles such as “iCarly” and her reprised role in “Sam & Cat”—is a thought-provoking retrospective on her experiences dealing with an abusive mother as well as the struggles of being a child actor. I will particularly cover the latter. Maybe I’ll make a part two—not to get too ahead of myself or anything. 

Released in August 2022, McCurdy’s memoir uncovers a system that values obedience and image over well-being, describing how her mother’s obsession with fame drove her into acting at a young age, and how the people in the entertainment industry she basically grew up in enabled unhealthy environments where boundaries just didn’t exist. Through her eyes, we can see the emotional and psychological toll that constant performance and adult expectations can take on a child who never gets to define herself outside of the way the adults around her want her to.  

A major critique in her memoir centers on McCurdy’s time working under the person only ever referred to in the book as “The Creator,” although her descriptions make it clear who she’s talking about:Dan Schneider, infamous producer of many Nickelodeon shows who’s become notorious past ten years or so for allegations of inappropriate behavior—verbal and sexual abuse, gender discrimination, I could go on—towards employees at Nickelodeon and many of its child actors. McCurdy recounts unsettling experiences of being pressured into uncomfortable situations, offered alcohol as a minor and being told to stay silent about his and other people’s misconduct. As a matter of fact, McCurdy has alleged that Nickelodeon offered her $300,000 to keep quiet about what she experienced. Obviously, as you can tell by the fact that she wrote this book, she refused the offer. 

Something that I really liked about this book, and what I think made McCurdy’s critique so effective, is that the memoir is personal instead of preachy. She doesn’t really position herself as being a “cautionary tale”; instead, she uses humor to highlight the skewed concept of fame: how is something that’s supposed to bring joy and success lead to so much trauma? 

The crazy thing is that McCurdy is far from the only person who has endured this trauma, and I’m sure she won’t be the last. It’s a common pattern in child stars, especially with girls and women, who are held to an even higher standard of “beauty” and perfection. 

McCurdy’s story also makes me think about a newer problem in the entertainment industry and one that has taken the internet by storm in the past few years—family YouTubers. If you don’t know what those are, my definition would be when selfish parents film their childrens’ entire lives and post them on social media for the whole world to see. 

A huge ethical issue concerning this fairly recent phenomenon has to do with consent and figuring out how the children truly feel about being broadcast, as well as what goes on behind the scenes. I think one of the most notorious examples of family-YouTubers-gone-wrong is 8 Passengers, run by Ruby Franke, broadcasting the lives of her, her husband (before they divorced in 2022) and her six children. 

Controversy started swirling back in 2020, where, according to NBC, a Change.org petition called for the family to be investigated after repeated footage in their videos that hinted at abuse, such as when one of the Franke kids shared that he had been sleeping on a bean bag for seven months as a punishment and when Ruby revealed that she had refused to pack her six-year-old’s lunch because she was “old enough” to make her own. Eventually, Ruby Franke as well as her friend and collaborator Jodi Hildebrandt were arrested after one of Franke’s kids escaped from Hildebrandt’s house, leading police to discover that the children were suffering from extreme malnourishment and physical abuse. 

Another example involves the LaBrant family. Cole and Savannah LaBrant have built an empire with almost 13 million subscribers on YouTube and almost 55 million combined followers on TikTok. Their five children, ages ranging from one to 12, have their most private moments monetized—including but not limited to medical scares, emotional breakdowns and even their own births. 

Hmm… 

Cole and Savannah have come under fire most recently because of their decision to sell their house in Tennessee. Now, this doesn’t sound like a huge deal, until you realize that their decisioncoincidentally coincided with the passing of Tennessee’s Senate Bill 1469, which bans children under the age of 14 from appearing in paid videos, and also requires that 100% of earnings from videos centered around minors aged 14-17 must be placed in a trust available to them once they turn 18. 

Double hmm… 

It’s interesting to compare and contrast McCurdy’s situation with that of the children of these family YouTubers. At the end of the day, they both highlight the same issue: when a child’s life becomes content or income, their well-being can become secondary. 

Reading “I’m Glad My Mom Died” as well as thinking about these modern examples makes it hard to ignore how little has actually changed in a system that’s been designed to prioritize profit over health. Children are still being put in positions where their worth is tied to how well they perform for others. And ultimately, as media consumers, we’re not as separate from this issue as we might think. People continue to engage with exploitative content, and it raises the question: how much are we willing to overlook in the name of entertainment?