Growing up, all of Rosalie Eichsted’s childhood memories took place in the family-run “Rosalie’s Diner.”
Eichstead learns to walk on the diner countertops and recalls every major life moment, including birthdays, milestones, memories and more taking place at the facility.
Before social media was present, Eichsted grew up like a child influencer. The diner was promoted on local paper using photos of Little Rosalie’s face, and the family went around the state and county fairs in Hawk’s T-shirts featuring similar snapshots.
“The diners were set in. Diners were social media for this small town community,” says Eichsteret, who uses their/their pronouns. Eichstead says being pushed into the spotlight at a young age has resulted in post-traumatic stress disorder and alienation from his family. Now, through their Tiktok account @rosaleeonline, they share stories of exploitation and talk about the risks of child impact.
“It’s not hard for people to see the difference between children being exploited on social media or children like me being exploited in the ’80s.”
Grown up in the spotlight
When Eichstead was six months old, her mother wrote in a weathered baby book, “Now the work begins honey. We are counting on you.”
Much of the family-owned marketing was done with Aichted’s childlike innocence. They were trained to repeat the filthy jokes and Limerick about Ed Gaine and Jeffrey Dahmer to their customers. The customers who came in were men who grew up frequently. Even as an adult a few years later, strangers approach Eychstead and say things like, “I hugged you when you were little.”
“It felt like a level of fame for people who thought they knew who they were, even though I didn’t know them,” Eichstedt says.
They remember that their mother had the camera on them. The camera is called “cams,” and is always called to the face and forced to dance and sing on request.
Eichsteret’s mother gave a smiley face for her clients. She drew her face on pancakes with whipped cream and bacon hair, but behind a closed room she neglected to feed a child who was often left to her device.
They felt helpless.
“I knew there was no one trying to save me. Everyone else seemed to be on board with it, so no one came to help me,” Eichted says.
Tiktok as a healing method
They moved at the age of 18 and became estranged from both sides of their family.
Currently, Eichstedt uses Tiktok as a way to process the experience and retrieve what you’re in front of the camera.
“I feel like I’m a person now. It’s not just products and products, what people collect, but also what I’m contributing to the world and other people in ways that I really heal,” Eichted says.
Commenters who went through a similar childhood say that Eichstead’s video gave him the courage to understand his trauma and cut off relationships with his abusive family.
“It’s amazing to know I’m not alone. It’s amazing to see experiences resemble my own childhood,” says one commenter. “I started watching your video today. I also have a complicated relationship with my parents. This was oddly cathartic,” another said.
The risk of children affecting them
Now, Eixtedt has concerns that online child influencers are not protected by the limelight and the challenges associated with contributing to family income at a young age. Child influencers are a growing phenomenon in the influencer economy, with consulting firm McKinsey focusing on over $21 billion.
In a modern digital age where photography and video are off the permanent path, child influencers will face the digital footprint left as children, says Stacey Steinberg, a law professor at the University of Florida’s Levin School of Law and director of the school’s Center for Children and Families.
“You can’t put the Genie back in the bottle,” Steinberg says. “We have a lot of children whose relationships with society have been permanently altered by these decisions by their parents.”
Child creators can also risk being on the receivers of fans and bad actors, leading to constant interactions that cross boundaries. Strangers can also use information posted online to find personal details, such as where their children attend school.
Steinberg may appreciate the financial income and platform that comes with sharing, while others may become “embarrassing or self-conscious” about the information they share.
The experience can affect the child’s general, his family, and his relationship with his own body.
“It’s drained,” Eichted says. “When you get approval for being a particular thing, it’s only natural that you want to continue with that feeling, that love, that attention. So you’ll keep doing what you need to get it and burn that star.”
Rachel Hale’s role in covering youth mental health at USA Today is supported by a partnership with Pivotal Ventures and Journalism Funding Partners. Funders do not provide editor input. Contact her at rhale@usatoday.com @RachelLeighhale x.
