Deepfakes are everywhere. And our kids think they’re hilarious.
I’ve sat with school children who are opening laughing about putting someone’s face on a different body, making them say things they never said. Some of them are seven years old. To them it’s just a bit of fun, and honestly – the technology makes it easy enough that you can see why.
But here’s the problem. They have absolutely no idea of the impact. Not on the person in the video. Not on their own digital footprint. Not on what that content could become once it leaves their hands.
And while we’re pointing the finger at kids – parents aren’t off the hook either. But we’ll get to that.
I’m Reemaba Jethwa – a cybersecurity professional, a children’s author and founder of MyAiPal. I’ve written two books on online safety for children and I’m currently working on a graphic novel series for 8-12 years old tackling AI, deepfakes and cyber threats through storytelling. I also have two children of my own, aged three and one. They can’t read yet. But I’m already writing books to protect them.
Let’s be clear about what a deepfake actually is. It’s AI-generated content – video, audio, images – that makes it look and sound like someone said or did something they never did.
The technology has advanced so fast that you no longer need specialist skills or expensive software. You need a phone and a face.
That face doesn’t have to be famous. It doesn’t have to be an adult. It just has to exist somewhere online. And that’s where it gets uncomfortable. Because most children’s faces do exist online – posted by parents, shared in school WhatsApp groups, tagged in family photos. Innocently. Lovingly. Without a second though about what that image could one day be used for.
For children, the threat is different to adults. A corporate deepfake targets reputation or finances. A deepfake targeting a child targets something far more fragile – their identity, their confidence their sense of safety. A video of a child saying something they never said, or appearing somewhere they never were, can spread through a school in minutes. The damage can last years.
And they children creating these videos aren’t always doing it maliciously. That’s the part that keeps me up at night. They genuinely don’t connect the action to the consequence. The laugh in the classroom and the crisis at home can be separated by just a few hours.
This is exactly why I wrote The Grid.
The series is set in a school where technology is everywhere. When a deepfake video of a student appears on the school intranet, a group of school kids – guided by Pixel, their AI school mascot – have to figure out who make it, how it happened, and what it means. It’s a mystery. But underneath it’s really a story about identity, trust and what happens when your digital world turns against you.
I didn’t want to write a lecture. I wanted to write something children would actually pick up. Because the reality is, a PHSE lesson at secondary school isn’t going to cut it anymore. By the time that lesson happens, most kids are already three streps ahead.
Stories reach children differently. Pixel makes the complex feel accessible. And if a child finishes this graphic novel understanding that their digital footprint is real and permanent – that’s the job done.
We need to start earlier. Not secondary school. Not a one-off assembly. Primary age, in formats children actually engage with – stories, characters, scenarios they recognise.
But lets talk about parents too. Because this isn’t just a children’s problem.
How many of us have posted a photo of our kids on a ‘close friends’ list on Instagram and though that was safe enough? I have. Close friends becomes shared. Shared becomes public. And that image of your child – their face, their school uniform, their location – is now source material you didn’t intend to give away.
We are unknowingly building a digital profile of our children before they’re old enough to consent to it. Every birthday photo. Every first day of school picture. Every cute video. It all lives somewhere. And AI doesn’t need much to work with.
This isn’t about fear. It’s about awareness. The same way we taught our children about stranger danger, we need to teach them – and ourselves – about digital danger. And we needed to start yesterday.
My children are three and one. They have no idea what a deepfake is. But the world they’re growing up in is already being shaped by this technology – and I refuse to let them enter it without the tools to navigate it.
That’s why I write. That’s why this conversation matters.
If you’re a parent start talking to your children about what they’re creating and sharing online – even if its feels too early. If you’re an educator, push for digital safety to start in primary school. And if you’re anyone with a platform – use it.
The kids are already ahead of us. It’s time we caught up.
