Latisha Tucker always knew that her daughter Raiya had the power of the stars.
She wasn’t surprised when her 4-year-old went to Tiktok Viral in February to dance to 803 Fresh’s hit “Boots On the Ground.” Lalia, known online as “Mr. Shirley,” has previously become a virus. However, Tiktok, who stomps with fringe boots and pastel pink fans, brought her a new flock of fans. She grew to 981,000 followers on the platform, appeared on the Jennifer Hudson Show and was featured in the music video for the song 803 Fresh.
But what Tucker didn’t expect was how quickly the stream of hatred from viewers continued. Suddenly, the comments section of the Tiktok Page was filled with all viewers, from when Lar’iyah’s level of attention was excessive when it was suitable for a 4 year old.
“When will you stop exploiting babies?” saw one commenter. “This is wild that we think is okay,” replied another.
The warning was over after posting a video showing Tiktokers calling child protection services on Tucker.
This is the latest example of parents receiving Flak by posting their children online. When parents place their children on social media, they open themselves up for reactions that may be out of their control, “Sharenthood: Why we should think before talking about children online,” says Harvard Law School teacher Leah Plunkett.
Shirley, who is your viral sensation?
The earliest videos on the Tiktok account featured hairstyles performed by Tucker, who works as a hairstylist, and videos of Lar’iyah as Baby. Lalia supported Tucker’s phone and began teaching line dancing. By the age of two, she was dancing to Megan The Stallion, Wop Dance Club Remix and Glorilla.
The nickname “Ms. Shirley” was something she had since she was born and has no correlation with the actress Shirley Temple.
Tucker says he knows that hatred comes to the territory of being an online creator. She says that people are aiming to monetize Lalia’s arguments for their platform, taking into account her name recognition.
“A lot of them have joined the bandwagon of what someone is saying,” Tucker says.
Since going viral, Lalia has attended more than 10 in-person events as a celebrity guest, including Rodeo Days, Parades and family events. Her critics say these appearances give adults too much access to small children.
As her fame grows, so does misinformation. Several posts criticizing Tucker, including videos that have turned out to be adults already known to be adults.
“People just pick and pick it, point it out and place it in a timeline that suits their story,” Tucker says.
“You can’t put the demon back in the bottle.”
The backlash against Tucker came to heat when he recently regained a 2024 video of Larya, who is trending in “red dresses” in 2024. In the video of over 3.7 million viewers, Lalia puts a red dress, heels, lipstick and wig on Johnny Gill’s 1990 R&B song “My, My, My,” with a red dress, heels, lipstick and wig on the lyrics.
The commenter argued that the suggestive nature of the song could direct bad actors towards Lalia’s videos. Tucker says the video only started receiving backlash this spring, but that has happened for over a year.
“All she does is be a child, like the rest of the kids. When we were young like little girls, we put on our mother’s lipstick, her dress, her wig and her heels. That’s it,” Tucker says.
The difference is, experts say, when those childhood moments are put to viewers online, they can’t get back.
In the modern digital age where photography and video make permanent trails, child influencers face the digital footprint that remains of childhood.
“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.”
Plunkett says kids in the online spotlight may fight developmentally to figure out that adults aren’t writing scripts for them. And posting online about children can blur the boundaries of a child’s mind of what realistic and imagination is.
“That stage is also a trip where I film with their home, their school, their community and their parents,” Plunkett said. “They don’t intend to understand what their real life and stage life is. It can be really complicated and in some cases, devastating consequences.”
Risks of sharing your child online
Steinberg says parents considering posting their children should measure their motivation to share their rights in order to maintain their privacy and control their digital footprint.
Parents who share their children’s risk data collection and exposure to bad actors online. Strangers can use information posted online to find personal details, such as where their child is attending school, and to collect or share data containing images of their child’s innocents.
Child creators also risk being on the receivers of fans who develop unhealthy relationships, leading to constant interactions that go through personal boundaries and stalkers.
Steinberg says that while some children may appreciate the financial income and platform that comes with sharing, others may age and feel “embarrassed or self-aware” about the information they share.
Tucker plans to put Lalia’s money aside for use in future plans like university education, and says he hopes that the promotion will give her a platform to pursue dance and singing.
Her supporters tell her to continue dancing. The Facebook fan page has nearly 30,000 followers, many of whom are lovingly referring to themselves with internet aunties, dote new photos of Lalia wearing costumes, posting prayers for her family, and promoting her events.
The comments include a message of support. “Continue stepping on Baby Girl!” “Don’t darken your glow.” “Team-san forever.”
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.