Sharenting & Posting:

I read a story in The Atlantic yesterday about "sharenting" and how the grown children are often horrified at what their parents posted. It was then that I was reminded that what we put online - whether a baby picture of our child or an angry post, all can outlive our reputation... and our life.

A snide comment, a half-truth, a viral takedown—it all gets preserved in the digital archives of time. But here’s the question almost no one asks before hitting “publish”:

• Would your future great-grandkids be proud of what you're about to post?

Let that sit with you.

Because they will see it. The internet doesn’t forget, even when we do.

💻 Screenshots Last Longer Than Apologies

We’ve normalized digital cruelty—slandering strangers, canceling acquaintances, and exposing the vulnerable—for what?

• Attention?
• Validation?
• A dopamine spike?

But what if your future lineage stumbles across your profile someday?

What if they read your words—not as a bystander—but as your bloodline?

Imagine them asking:

“Why did you post that hateful video about someone?”

“Why did you share private details about a family member?”

“Why did you publicly mock that person who was already struggling?”

Now imagine them doing it in front of a history class. A courtroom. Or your eulogy.

📚 I Was One of Those Kids Looong Before the Internet

My mother shared that I was adopted in a 1964 small-town newspaper.

I didn’t find out until I was 17. I had just survived another suicide attempt when I discovered my story—my identity—was never mine to begin with. It had already been told.

As I write in my autobiography, I didn't even know I was adopted until that day in the hospital at age 17 so for the rest of the town to know before me, I was beyond angry. I was horrified. I felt betrayed, violated, and deeply alone. Not because I was adopted but because of how it was handled.

For all that my adoptive parents were - and they were awful parents - they did teach me that I should do anything in life that I would not want published on the front page of a small town newspaper. Ironic coming from them. However, that still sticks with me today.

So when I hear stories today about parents uploading videos of their kids having meltdowns, sharing their medical records, or publicly punishing them “for clout,” I see the same pattern—just with hashtags and better filters. We are turning the internet into a permanent shame museum.

🧬 The Legacy Test

Here’s the test I give my clients, students, and audiences:

• Before you post something—about anyone—imagine it being read aloud at your funeral.

And by someone you love or your great-grandchild.

• Would it reflect your values?
• Your ethics?
• Or your darkest emotional impulses?

If it wouldn’t make you proud in the future, it probably shouldn’t be posted in the present.

It’s normal for all of us to see something online that stirs outrage deep in our soul. But before reacting emotionally or attacking someone publicly, pause and ask yourself:

• In one, three, five, or ten years… will this really matter?
• Will I even remember I did it?
• And if someone I love asked me why I posted it, how would I feel explaining it?

Whenever something online triggers me, I ask myself one simple question before responding:

🗞️ “Would I want this action published on the front page of a small-town newspaper?”

If the answer is no—or even probably not—then I don’t post it.

It really is that simple.

Think before acting—because once it’s out there, it’s too late to take it back.

👁️ Accountability Is the New Activism

Sharenting isn’t just about kids anymore.

Cyberbullying, doxxing, digital lynch mobs—it’s all part of the same toxic tree. We’ve confused exposure with power, and likes with legacy.

But real power?

• That’s accountability.
• That’s restraint.
• That’s remembering that the internet is forever, but so is your family name.

So go ahead—have an opinion. Speak your truth.

But before you upload, comment, or click “share,” pause and ask:

📲 Will my great-grandkids be proud of this?

Or will they spend their lives trying to undo what I left behind?