Netflix’s Adolescence Made Me Question Everything (Including Italian Brainrot)

Netflix’s Adolescence was a hard watch for me. In spite of people saying it was a must-watch because of the important lessons it would teach me, I really delayed watching it – because I knew the story would be one that I’d feel too closely.

I’d heard really good things about it, with reviewers from publications hailing it an “all-time technical masterpiece” (Forbes), and “the closest thing to TV perfection in decades” (Guardian) thanks to its director’s masterful one-take episodes and the actors’ raw performances.

The reviews were right about many things.

Adolescence WAS one of the most riveting things I’ve watched in recent years; I binged it over a week in my downtime. (That’s saying a lot, considering how my attention span is stretched paper-thin these days and I leave many TV shows unfinished.)

But there were many points where I found myself wishing I could stop even as my eyes kept watching every parent’s nightmare unfold on the screen before me.

Like during Jamie’s interrogation scene, where he repeatedly denied his involvement, plaintively asserting to his dad: “I didn’t do it, dad. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Or during the school scene, where I was completely horrified at how the children showed utter disregard for anyone around them – teachers and fellow students alike. How could students learn anything in such a chaotic place? Is this what schools are really like for our young children these days?

I kept watching, because I wanted very much to understand what drove Jamie to do what he did. And yet, as the four episodes of the show drew to a close, I never quite got the answers I craved. 

My thoughts as a mum to two boys

At almost-12 and almost-10, my two eldest boys are just a few years shy of Jamie, at 13 years old. Like Jamie, they have a stuffed toy they hug to sleep. And like Jamie, they have a pair of headphones they use sometimes, when they’re using the computer.

My heart felt all sorts of aches when I saw Jamie wetting his pants in fear when the police burst into his home while he was sleeping in his warm bed to arrest him that fateful morning.

That could easily be any of my boys, I kept thinking to myself. 

The fear in his eyes, the high voice that hadn’t yet cracked, his dad urging him to eat his cornflakes while being held in the police station, even his delight at the cup of hot chocolate with marshmallow toppings from his psychologist – it all made me think of my own two boys.

I’d already read some of the reviews prior to starting the show, so I knew that there was no hope that Jamie was innocent. But I truly wanted him to be. 

Because he seemed like just a little kid to me, just like my two boys.

The mental image of something like that happening in one of my boys’ schools was a hard one to conjure up.

Little kids don’t do things like that. They hug stuffed toys to sleep, chuckle at funny cartoons, and ask for bedtime stories before sleeping. They’re innocent and curious, still trying to make sense of the world around them. 

Among all the gut-wrenching scenes of the four-episode series I sat through, the words that really got under my skin was Jamie’s mum saying: “We thought he was safe in his room. But he was in there, with his computer.”

Home has always been my safe haven, and it’s the same for my children – so the thought of them being home, seemingly safe, but actually in the most danger from online influences from their devices, made my blood freeze. 

Is it a problem in Singapore?

So much has been said about the “manosphere” and its insidious influence on Jamie and other young boys. Former kickboxer Andrew Tate and his particular brand of misogynistic beliefs has led a generation of boys and men to believe in a certain ideal of masculinity and how women should be perceived.

I did a bit of snooping around, and asked my boys if they’d heard of Andrew Tate, or if terms like “red pills”, “incels”, or the “80-20 rule” had been brought up in conversations among friends.

To my huge relief, they both looked at me blankly. “No idea mum, but want to hear about Bombadiro Crocodilo or Tralalero Tralala? Everyone’s sharing those memes now!”

(This opened a new can of worms, so please stick with me as I’ll explain in a while.)

I already know that some type of local misogynistic communities exist on online forums, where I’ve come across people speaking derogatorily about women. I’m hoping these misogynistic sentiments haven’t seeped into the consciousness of the majority of young boys.

For now, my boys are largely undisturbed. Of course, they may be feigning ignorance, but I choose to believe them because they’ve been exceedingly open about trending content and popular memes going around in their classrooms so far.

So what have I found out? 

“Skibidi toilet” is so yesterday, or so I’ve heard. Ice bucket challenges on TikTok, Instagram, and WhatsApp, and Italian brainrot memes are what’s in right now.  

If you’ve not been introduced to the confusing world of Italian brainrot, count yourself lucky, because it’s exactly as its name suggests: brain-numbing and senseless memes in the form of AI-generated images that are surreal and absurd, typically featuring animal-object hybrids.

Like “Tralalero Tralala”, the Nike-wearing shark. Or “Chimpanzini Bananini”, the green chimpanzee in a banana. All fairly silly images, if taken at face value, and humorous in a ridiculous way to young children, especially accompanied by the nonsensical pseudo-Italian names that sound catchy enough.

But, I googled some of them, and they’re not all as innocent or dumb as they seem.

“Bombadiro Crocodilo,” a particular favourite of my boys, is a crocodile-bomber plane hybrid, often found alongside videos set to a song with lyrics about the plane bombing children in Gaza. 

And while my boys hadn’t seen the videos with the lyrics, all they had to do was to type “bombadiro crocodilo” into Google and they’d see and hear this on the very first video that popped up – which is exactly what I did in less than three seconds.

Being the uncool mum, I showed my boys the lyrics of the video, and they were quite aghast. 

Lesson learnt.

But I’m low-key panicking, because I definitely won’t be able to catch every insidious reference in an online image, trend, video, or challenge – no matter how vigilant I think I am.

Just like how Detective Bascombe had completely misread the emojis that Katie had left on Jamie’s instagram, thinking they were friendly messages and only finding out from his teenage son that they were really messages hinting at Jamie being an incel (red pill, dynamite, kidney bean). I fear I’ll find myself in his shoes someday.

What we’re doing at home to (hopefully) mitigate it

While I still think that home is the safest place for my children to be, I don’t share the same views about using devices at home.

Undoubtedly, the Internet is a powerful tool that my children must learn how to use. 

But I’m convinced that at their current maturity levels, they have no business being on the Internet or any social media platform by themselves.

The computers and smart devices that my children have access to are all shared, and placed in common areas. I even went so far as to get a CPU for the family computer, which we’ve stationed in the living room.

The boys are allowed to use it for their schoolwork and weekend gaming, only with my or my husband’s supervision.

My husband and I also make it a huge point to leave our phones at the coffee counter to charge while we get the kids ready for bed, to model the “No Device In The Bedrooms” house rule we’ve put in place.

They also have access to a shared smartphone which they use to read e-books and play games like Minecraft, FC Mobile, or Pokemon Go during the weekend, which they are also only allowed to use in the living room and have to leave at the computer table once they’re done.

Our rationale is this: giving them access to the Internet in their own room is just a terribly bad idea, because who knows what they will end up coming across online, with no one to turn to with their questions? 

I know I can’t shield my children from things like pornography, violence, scams, and dangerous social media challenges forever. But in my opinion, it’s much better for them to stumble across these while being surrounded by trusted family who can help explain immediately what’s going on.

For now, my eldest son also likes to watch Instagram shorts with me and my husband, laughing over comedic skits or football commentaries that he so enjoys. We don’t let him doom scroll through Instagram, and he doesn’t ask for it either, preferring to spend his allotted screen time on the weekend playing his football game or watching reality game shows or cooking shows like The Devil’s Plan, Ultimate Beastmaster, or Culinary Class Wars on Netflix.

We also talk very openly about the memes and challenges that crop up in school. For now, they’re very happy to share their world with me. I think it helps that I always show that I am interested to hear more from them. 

I make it a point to be open and curious, so I can find out more about these trending things myself to understand context and potential negative connotations.

If I find anything to worry about – like with “Bombadiro Crocodilo,” I use this opportunity to point out what they should be aware of.

Of course, I know that despite my best efforts at connecting with my children, adolescence can close the doors pretty abruptly. But I can’t let that possibility stop me from doing my best right now, can I?

Social media has made it all too easy and difficult at once to make black-and-white decisions about what’s okay and what’s not, but I’m going to trust in the relationship I’ve built with my children to take us through their childhood, and hopefully make it safely to the other side as well-adjusted and discerning adults.

I’m determined to do better by my children, bit by bit.

Kelly Ang (@kelthebelle) is a freelance writer and a mum of five, who spends an equal amount of time each day writing, driving her kids around, nagging at them (sadly) and planning her next family adventure. She’s still learning new things about being the mum her kids need, 11 years into this motherhood gig.