‘The main thing you’ve got is TikTok’: how the social media ban could harm African diaspora youth

The Australian government’s social media ban will begin in about two weeks. From December 10, those under 16 will no longer be able to have personal accounts on sites such as YouTube, TikTok and Instagram. They will still be able to see publicly accessible content.

A lot of the debate around this change has focused on the harms of these platforms, such as cyberbullying, misinformation and screen addiction.

But we also know social media is an important way for young people to connect, especially for marginalised groups.

Our as yet unpublished new research shows the ban risks harming young Australians of African heritage by limiting vital pathways for identity formation, belonging and connection.

Our research

Since 2023, we have been working on a broader project on African Diaspora Youth Belonging. This has involved nine youth co-researchers from across Australia. Their experiences and reflections form part of the research and they have learned to design and carry out research themselves.

In this particular part of the research, the nine co-researchers conducted two rounds of conversations with 31 other African diaspora young people about belonging in Australia in 2023 and 2024. This included questions about social media use. Young people were invited through personal networks and social media.

Participants came from every state and territory except Tasmania, and from both urban and regional areas. The group included 26 young women, 13 young men, and one participant who identified as trans-female.

While a majority of the participants in our study were aged 17–20, most described having accessed social media from much younger ages.

‘I could actually find people like me’

Our interviewees described social media as a pivotal space for understanding their identity. These platforms enabled participants to “see people like me”, “learn about my culture”, and “find words to describe what I’ve always felt”.

In particular, TikTok, YouTube and Instagram were seen as everyday spaces where Black youth could go to connect. Umar* (18) from South Australia explained,

In Australia, there’s not really too much media for the youth in general, let alone Black youth. The main thing you’ve got is TikTok.

Another participant, Abebi (21) from the ACT, added social media was “always uplifting”:

I could actually find people like me because they were just everyday people posting, especially on YouTube. That was the first place I was able to look at curly hair care videos […] I felt so seen.

‘There’s a lot of people out there who can teach you’

Participants emphasised the information they accessed through social media wasn’t available elsewhere. Tresor (20) from New South Wales told us social media taught him important things he would not learn at school:

for example, what products to use on my hair […] There’s a lot of people out there [on social media] who can really teach you this stuff, and really help you understand how to better yourself as, for me, a Black man.

Keji (18) from the ACT similarly spoke of social media as a resource for learning about identity and culture:

TikTok does not get enough credit for being such a good learning tool […] it’s how I found some of my favourite books and essays that helped me understand who I am.

‘I can be anyone’

Afro-Blackness in Australia is often depicted in negative terms. The African gangs narrative, for example, presents African young people as deviant and a threat to the social order. Participants described how in everyday spaces in Australia, they felt they had to “shut your Blackness down […] because it wasn’t seen as a good thing”.

Social media, however, provided more complex, positive representations of Black identity. For example, Farai, a 21-year-old of Zimbabwean heritage, described how TikTok expanded her understanding of what it means to be Zimbabwean:

If I went online and saw how different everyone is, but they’re still like, yeah, I’m Zimbabwean […] it’s like, okay, I can be anyone, but I’m still Zimbabwean.

Similarly, Venus (18) from the ACT said social media helped her realise “there isn’t one type of Black person […] it’s okay to be different”.

Social media also provided young people with the language and tools for self-advocacy. James (19) from NSW told us:

[I] didn’t really understand what [racism] could look like until I saw Instagram posts and YouTube videos.

‘I could be like that’

Social media is often criticised for pushing toxic content at young people. Our participants acknowledged this. Tongai, (18) from NSW noted “looking at other people and what they’re doing is obviously not healthy”. Yet, many had developed the skills to curate their feeds and limit harmful content. As Addition (20), who identified as trans-female, shared:

You can consume news and what’s happening without having to feel like you’re in it […] I had to unfollow people because I can’t process that right now.

The social media ban ignores young people’s digital literacy – our research suggests many are already critically engaging with complex online worlds.

When implemented, the ban risks further marginalising this diverse group of young people by restricting access to a key source of identity, connection and culture. As Aaliyah (18) from South Australia told us,

once we see a Black person post something positive, it’s like – that’s me, I could be like that.

*names have been changed.

The authors would like to acknowledge the nine youth co-researchers who were essential in the data collection and analysis: Benjamin Grant-Skiba, Elaine Ncube, Shaza Hamed, Efon Luwala, Mwangaza Milunga, Jeanne Munyonge, Zamda Omba, and particularly Habibat Ogunbawo and Yahya Djomani-Ousmane who have been specifically involved in this article.