A Mom Influencer's Tragedy Finally Sheds Light on Dangers Of Family Vlogging
A mega-influencer on TikTok named Emilie Kiser lost her son to drowning. As endless parasocial relationships come to the surface, there are conversations about the ethics of child exploitation.
Before I started my Substack, which dissects various components of media, I thought of making an account dedicated to toxic family vlogging culture. I don’t have kids, but seeing parents blatantly exploit their children with no cares in the world is quite literally insane to me. Insane. And from the accounts I’ve witnessed, they all follow a similar blueprint. Mom or not, I don’t see a singular ounce of myself in any of these people.
At this point in my life, most of my friends have kids. Anyone I’m still currently friends with I relate to in one major way or another. And they all feel “normal” to me. None of my friends exploit their cute little kids in their cushy living spaces for clout. I’m not talking about family vacations or little moments here and there. I’m talking documenting a full 16-hour day with a child in every shot. And if not in the shot, then they are the topic of the conversation.
Imagine growing up as a kid, having literally every moment documented for millions of random people on the internet. Getting your diapers changed, breast feeding, spitting up, crawling, walking, talking, learning how to ride a bike, asking silly questions. And then having strangers refer to you by nicknames and comment on your mom’s videos as if you’re their family friend. When I was growing up, we were told never to talk to strangers. Don’t tell people where you live, etc… Now we’re tagging our locations, putting our full names out there for the world.
So… you can only imagine what ensues when a popular mom vlogger experiences tragedy. As is the case with the dark side of fame (social media and otherwise), you don’t get to live that publicly without repercussions. On May 12, Arizona influencer Emilie Kiser (3.9 million on TikTok) found her three-year-old son Trigg drowned in their backyard pool. He was rushed to the hospital and pronounced dead shortly thereafter. I only learned of this 26-year-old woman upon the turn of events. Any time I see a family account pop up on my feed, I immediately block. This one hadn’t made it to me yet.
But, like the rest of TikTok, I was naturally curious. And of course, got into a brief rabbit hole of watching her recently posted videos and getting acquainted with this poor little boy who lost his life. Her most recently posted video was on the day of the incident, clearly before it unfolded. She makes breakfast, pours a green powder supplement, pumps breast milk, greets her newborn, cuddles with the whole family in bed. Then we move on to doting dad who packs his three-year-old’s lunch, runs some gel through the kid’s hair. Mom gets in a brief mat pilates workout, drinks her coffee, rocks her newborn while simultaneously doing makeup. Sips her Stanley. You know, family vlogger stuff.
Imagine this, all day, every day. An average video for Emilie gets 2.9 million views. That’s only going to increase when tragedy hits. But now, instead of comments asking where her cute floral headband is from, and if “Triggy” had a good day at school, they’re a mixed bag of reactions to his passing. Some theorize what could have happened, others say they’re holding their babies extra close tonight. No matter the comment, millions and millions of strangers are dissecting the death of her son.
The parasocial relationships these people develop for mere children is absolutely unhinged. One random TikTok mom posted a bouquet with the words “flowers for Emilie and Brady”. Another sat in her car driving, while the words appeared: “Went and bought my boys their first Jellycats today in honor of Triggy.” Other moms made full videos adamant about how great of parents these two are, and “drowning is silent,” “accidents can happen to any parent,” “accidents are preventable until they happen to you.” Mind you, no one knows the context of what happened that day (one way or another). But can I blame people for chiming in? No, that innocent boy’s presence was put online with the intent to amuse strangers. To mourn the loss of a child with the weight of the internet looming over you sounds unfathomable.
A journalist and TikToker named Fortesa, who focuses on child exploitation content, broke down the controversies and said the debacle has parents rethinking how much they share online. So far, I’ve seen otherwise. If anything, this incident has brought more mommy vloggers than ever to my FYP chiming in with their two-cents. Instead of swearing off exploitative content, they’ve simply vowed to build a fence around their pool (from what we saw online, Emilie’s pool didn’t have a fence).
Family vlogging will not voluntarily stop, let’s be real. If all these SAHMs, as they call themselves (stay-at-home-moms) can make money by popping out kids and being on their phone all day, they’re not going anywhere. It would take real law enforcement to change this. The only move toward easing the issue (which still permits it) is Coogan’s Law in California, which requires parents of actors and content creators under 18 to set aside earnings for their kids. But if you’re not in California or another participating state, you can exploit away.
At the end of the day, is Trigg’s fate sad? Of course. No one deserves not to have a fair shot at life. He was likely a lovely little boy, and of course accidents happen. I’m not putting blame on the parents, or anyone, for that matter. Again, none of us were there. What I am saying is if the child’s life weren’t made public, the family could mourn in peace. The internet will always be a double-edged sword. It’s exciting and often addictive, but it can be dark and scary, too. As a journalist, it’s important to raise awareness around the topic because it’s incredibly prevalent. I’m not here to argue whether or not the death could have been prevented. I’m here to say strangers digging into public records and hypothesizing what led to this could have been prevented. I don’t think this incident will change family vlogging, but I am glad it sheds light on a very serious issue.
What are your thoughts? Do you follow any mom influencers or family channels? How discretionary are you about posting your own kids online? What’s your take on what happened?
Every word of this post made my stomach curl up into my throat—each sentence another notch tighter. The hatred. The disdain. The mockery. Not subtle, not veiled, not critical in any constructive sense. Just outright contempt for a grieving mother and the life of a three-year-old boy who drowned. And then to go so far as to mock his name? “.(The name, go figure.)” Are you serious? What does the fact that someone might be of a certain religious faith, education level or political leaning have to do with the death of a child?
You’ve written a post cloaked in concern but soaked in cruelty. Let’s not pretend this was about child protection. This was a spectacle. A grieving mother buried her son, and you picked through the digital remnants of her life to justify a hit piece.
First, the critique of family vlogging has merit. Yes, parasocial dynamics are real. Yes, monetizing childhood is ethically murky, and yes, laws like Coogan’s need expansion and enforcement. But none of that justifies dehumanizing a mother whose child just drowned. You even admit to not knowing the details so how are you linking his death with her choice to vlog about her family??
Second, the phrase “you don’t get to live that publicly without repercussions” is grotesque. A three-year-old drowned. That’s not a “repercussion” of internet fame. That’s a tragedy. You’re implying that visibility invites fate to punish. That’s theology, not ethics. And bad theology at that.
Third, the disdain for stay-at-home moms (“popping out kids and being on their phone all day”) betrays class contempt and ignorance. Managing a home, raising children, and building income online is modern domestic labor. You’re sneering at women for building a livelihood under surveillance capitalism. If you have an issue with that system, critique it, not the women surviving within it.
Lastly, you imply that because strangers grieved publicly, the child’s life was somehow less sacred, more performative. That’s not how dignity works. Grief is messy. Community care, even when clumsy, is not inherently “unhinged.” Maybe people sent flowers or bought teddy bears because they saw a child, not a content object.
At the heart of your post is something darker than concern. It’s not just judgment of a mother’s choices—it’s open disgust that she exists at all. Your problem isn’t the internet. It’s Emilie. It’s women like her. Women who are soft and domestic, who build lives you don’t understand or respect. That’s what’s really burning you.
You’re not shedding light on anything. You’re just revealing yourself.
This feels cruel within the context of this tragedy. And I wasn't sharing my opinion, I was reporting on the mom influencers I spoke with who are changing their minds because of the parasocial outcry