Written by Jermaine Magethe
Only a few years ago, children could watch TV and gaze in the mirror. Tweens, those between 8 and 12, had television shows tailored for them, universes where their voices rang out. Disney Channel’s Hannah Montana and Girl Meets World captured the awkwardness and wonder of early adolescence. Nickelodeon’s iCarly and Victorious created hallways in school sets for imagination and friendship.
Closer to home, Machachari gave Kenyan children local heroes who were the embodiment of their everyday lives and Tahidi High made the highs and lows of adolescence both enjoyable and relatable.
Of course those programs entertained children but they also were mirrors and guides. They told tweens that it’s okay to be different, being a friend is worth the fight and being an adult does not necessarily mean becoming another person.
But today, that mirror is broken.
Streaming platforms dominate, but they skip over tweens entirely. On one end there are sophisticated, simple cartoons for preschoolers. On the other there are glossy teen dramas and reality shows like “Love Island,” full of adult love, body ideals, and relationship drama. Tweens are left in between too old for kindergarten fare, too young for adults.
And when the media does attempt to portray “teen life,” they tend to cast 20- or even 30-year-old rouged-up professionals to act 15. Sabrina Carpenter is an example. She first played Maya on Girl Meets World, a sassy, straight-shooting tween navigating school and friendship drama. Now, at 26, she’s a pop sensation singing about night life and adult romances. Her career evolution is natural, but her young viewers are left in the dark. The industry rarely recast such roles with up-and-coming tween stars, and children are left to observe adults replaying adolescence on television in ways that are aspirational but ultimately unattainable.
The Kenyan story is no different. When Machachari ended its run, it left a gigantic gap in the local children’s programming. The characters had grown up, the issues shifted, and the viewers who had watched themselves reflected on screen suddenly had no one speaking their language. Tahidi High, while well-liked, also went over the line too many times, with actors far older than the students they portrayed. With the contemporary tween Kenyan, there are few local productions offering true depictions of their stage of life.
When Reality TV Spills Over into Tweenhood
Into this gap steps adult programming. Love Island may be designed for adults, but tweens view it and learn. Relationships are handled as competitions in attraction and rejection. Beauty is reduced to perfected bodies and enhanced faces. Gender is reinforced, with education of girls to the fact that their value lies in looks and boys encouraged to play out toughness or charm. Teachers even say Year 7 students discuss who’s “fitter” or reenact “recouping” rituals in class. On the internet, parents advocate, if children are watching, do at least speak about what isn’t right in a relationship.
The problem isn’t so much the content itself but it’s that for many tweens, there’s nothing else to see that relates to their stage in life.
The Sociology of Tween Media
From a sociological standpoint, tween media was never ever all about entertainment—it’s socialization. It helps tweens sort through issues like…. Who am I? Where do I belong? How do I act? Well-crafted tween shows once reflected peer relationships, family emergencies and the cringe comedy of adolescence. When that middle ground shrinks, tweens are not so much losing TV shows, they are losing mirrors that reflect back upon them.
Rather, they’re exposed too soon to adult media and influencer culture, in which values revolve around sex, consumption and competition. This speeds up what academics refer to as age compression in which children take on older behaviors and identities before they are prepared.
The Politics of Youth and Media
The media, too, is political. It signals whose voices are worth listening to. The passing away of tween media is not just a shift in business models but also a message that Children’s voices aren’t worth placing at the center. Companies increasingly think of youth as consumers rather than citizens. They sell merchandise and platforms but contribute nothing for real representation.
This invisibility counts. When tweens disappear from view in the cultural script, their needs are more likely to be ignored in policy deliberations. Issues of online safety, mental well-being, or representation become harder to bring to the fore when the very term “tweenhood” disappears from the media landscape.
The adult casting of teenagers worsens this. When 26-year-olds act out adolescence, they create a highly produced, unrealistic representation of becoming an adult. Tweens immediately see through this artifice and abandon TikTok or YouTube in favor of the former, because peers rather than producers are creating content there that is closer to the real thing.
Why This Gap Matters
Tweens today face more stressors than tweens a decade ago. Body standards are encouraged by social media even before adolescence has begun. Cyberbullying, grooming and exploitation on-line encroach earlier. Global warming concerns, identity issues and issues with self-esteem characterize their daily lives. Without media that matches their pace, tweens end up cobbling together their sense of identity from adult reality shows and influencer timelines.
But this dichotomy is not required. Well-designed tween media could show peers acting responsibly online, characters struggling sincerely with body image or friendships torn apart by school stress but strengthened by empathy. It could signal stories of action on the climate, on innovation, or in local change led by children their own age. Above all, it could show them back themselves as awkward, flawed, and striving.
At Mtoto News, we believe tweens are worth more than borrowed reflections. Through storytelling efforts like Sauti Zetu, we amplify children’s voices on issues from climate to justice. Our podcasts, our Weekly shows, online safety efforts and research equip children with the resources to thrive in a screen-dominated world. And we do it with a conviction that tweens are not an “in-between” market, but a key demographic with distinctive needs and insights.
Tween media is not nostalgia, but it’s necessary. Without it, children lose the mirrors reflecting back at them who they are. With it, they acquire role models, havens and narratives that affirm their experience.
If we don’t grow with tweens, then who will assist them in making sense of the fast-paced world they’re coming of age in?