A mum and therapist on Netflix’s Adolescence and the power of connection with our kids

In Netflix’s Adolescence, we see how online communities shape our children’s beliefs about themselves and others. Therapist and mum, Jacintha Field, shares why the solution isn’t control but presence.

By Jacintha Field, CEO and Founder at Happy Souls Kids 

Adolescence, the Netflix series everyone’s discussing, isn’t merely entertainment. It’s a mirror reflecting the world our children navigate while we’re busy checking emails or doom scrolling on our phones. It shows us what happens when digital darkness finds our kids before we do.

It is raw. Confronting. Uncomfortable. Necessary.

A mother’s reflection on Adolescence

As both a mother to a 10-year-old son and a family therapist, this story of 13-year-old Jamie who is arrested for murdering his classmate Katie, has left me with a heavy heart. Not because it’s shocking (though it is), but because it forces us to face what many of us have been avoiding: our children are growing up in digital spaces we barely understand.

Remember when “I want to kill you” was just something kids said when they were cross? Now it carries an ominous warning. Our boys (and yes, our girls too) are being raised by algorithms that don’t care about them as people, but only for their engagement. While we may think they’re playing safely in their rooms, for all we know they could be falling down rabbit holes where predatory ideologies wait.

Emojis and the new language of communication

In the internet age, kids are communicating on an entirely different wave length to our generation. They speak a language we don’t understand and that is completely foreign. They talk in symbols and emojis. What we see as cute or harmless often has a totally different meaning, one that escapes us completely. This language is what left Jamie feeling bullied, isolated and misunderstood. 

Jamie’s journey into ‘incel’ culture, a word I only learned about 48 hours ago while watching the show, teaches boys that women are objects to be conquered or punished. 

Incel, short for “involuntarily celibate”, is typically a young man or boy who feels rejected by women and, as a result, becomes part of an online subculture that often promotes misogyny, resentment, and toxic views about gender and relationships. 

Opening conversations about toxic culture

I asked my son if he knew what ‘incel’ meant, and I let out a sigh of relief when he said “no”. But even so, it opened up a conversation that needed to be had. Education is key. Not to scare him but to prepare his mind. I want to give him the tools to recognise manipulation, question what he sees online, and know that he can always come to me no matter what.

Jamie discusses the 80/20 rule in Adolescence, which states that 80% of women want only 20% of men. This is a far-fetched truth, but for a lonely, insecure 13-year-old, I can see how it can feel real and logical against his experience which can be harmful if it becomes the foundation of their belief system and is reinforced through bullying.

“I thought she was weak,” Jamie said. “I thought if she were weak, she’d like me…She was a bitch. I should have killed her. But I didn’t…Most boys would have touched her. But I didn’t. So I’m better.”

This is what our boys are learning when we’re not watching or paying enough attention. And they don’t have to look far. 

For young boys feeling rejected or exposed, talking like this is a way to try to reclaim power. And if we don’t talk about it, or help them see through their anger, embarrassment and frustration, we can’t expect them to find their way out.

What happened with Jamie didn’t happen in a “broken home”. He had loving parents. Sure his father wasn’t perfect, but he was giving it a pretty good go after coming from a broken home himself. The conversation Jamie’s parents have reflecting on whether they could have done more is a question every parent should ask themselves. 

A loving home isn’t always enough

The fact that Jamie, who came from a loving home, and was still capable of murder, should give us all a wake up call. Even among those with the best of intentions and efforts to remain present, there are still likely to be lapses in parental attention. No matter how hard we try there will be times where connection could have and should have been better.

Could this happen to my child? Could it happen to yours? You’d rather not consider it. Instead we judge other parents, thinking: “My son would never.” But Adolescence strips away that certainty. 

When Jamie asks his psychologist, “Do you like me?”, his desperate plea for validation reveals everything. It’s not just her approval he seeks; it’s his father’s. It’s ours.

I read a LinkedIn post last week that deeply resonated. And it hasn’t left me. Have we gone too far? In our push for equality, have we forgotten to celebrate our boys for who they are? 

Of course we need to keep pushing for equality and teaching history, fairness, and diversity. These movements matter. But in doing so, have we forgotten our boys? Have we focused so much on raising allies that we’ve stopped celebrating them, too? Women and girls deserve to be celebrated. So do the men in our lives, not just our boys, but all of our children. Can’t we create a world that honours both?

Respect, equality and connection

Of course we need to teach respect and equality. But when we lead with shame rather than connection, our children shut down. They hide parts of themselves. They find communities online that make them feel seen, even if what’s seeing them is toxic.

The question is, how can we as parents prepare our kids for a future that is moving faster with every passing day? How can we be more present and remember to not drown out the silence, but rather show up and be there for our kids right when they need us most?

The series ends with Jamie’s father in his son’s bedroom, utterly broken. A life sentence handed down to them both. Soul-crushing to witness. And all I could think was: How do we stop this from becoming our reality?

We need to start by healing ourselves first. We must forgive the parts we’ve carried too long. We need to create homes where our children run toward us with their mistakes, not away. 

Where they feel celebrated as they are – not for who we wish they’d be. Where they know, without question, that our love isn’t conditional on performance or perfection.

The power of connection in a digital world

Connection isn’t complicated, but it is deliberate. It’s putting down phones when little eyes search for ours. It’s acknowledging their passions even when we don’t understand them. It’s listening without fixing; simply bearing witness to their becoming.

And there are practical steps we can take: Keeping technology out of bedrooms, monitoring online activity, and having detailed conversations about why certain things aren’t good for them, rather than just saying “no” or “because I said so”. Even 20 minutes of daily deep connection where you enter their world can make a difference. Bring back family dinners, rediscover board games, and maintain open communication without judgment. Tell them you’re proud and that you love them every day – not just when they score in sports. Really listen to what’s happening in their lives without immediately offering solutions. Sometimes, they just need us to hear them.

Boys are complex, and they need us to hold space for both their strength and vulnerability. They need us to show them that emotions aren’t weaknesses but guideposts. That asking for help isn’t failure but courage.

The algorithms racing for our children’s attention don’t care about them. But we do. And that’s our superpower in this digital age.

We have the power to do better. To be better. To love better. To see our children and I mean really see them in all their beautiful, messy, magnificent awesome little human selves.

The greatest protection we can offer isn’t control, it’s connection. The kind that whispers to our children: I see you. I hear you. I love you. Not despite your struggles, but alongside them. Always unconditionally.