Keir, please, take my phone away

I was in the middle of a mindless scrolling binge, when Isabella and Tash told me that Keir Starmer was finally going to stand up to the social media companies. I opened the BBC app to check if it was true that the government would be banning harmful content – putting an end to the era of digital commodification, online hatred and violent pornography for good. I let out a little shriek of joy.

But this soon turned to a guttural moan, as my friends and I realised that – as young women in our early twenties – we would miss out on these protections since they would be limited to the under-16s. I threw down my phone in disgust, before picking it up again. Isabella sullenly twirled her locks of chestnut hair while Tash, crestfallen, began scrolling again with renewed vigour.

I don’t mean to whinge, but I can’t help but feel that ours must be the unluckiest generation to grow up this side of the second world war. Our younger years were wasted online, then years of our education were lost to the pandemic. If we had been born earlier, we could have enjoyed being young people before the internet, never worrying about having our late-night antics posted online, or boys sharing our nude photographs on Snapchat.

If we had been born later, like the teens and tweens of today, the government would have led us out of the digital jungle. We would have been saved from the lifetime of online harms which have been our lot since the mobile phone was first thrust into our innocent hands.

That is why only protecting under-16s seems unfair to so many of my generation, who are now in their twenties. We are, as women, still developing in so many ways. All three of us – Isabella, Tash and I – are currently in our most fertile window. We are desperate to have children. But nobody goes on dates anymore. Instead, we just scroll and scroll through partner after partner, too anxious to swipe right. And while many boys our age may appear sweet and unassuming, most have fallen down the dark and dangerous rabbit hole of violent pornography. It is hard for me even to hold eye contact with most young men, knowing that they are constantly fantasising about me.

When I hear stories of what life in Britain was like before the internet, I mourn what my generation missed out on. A time of office affairs and snogs at raucous Christmas parties. On every street corner a ‘third space’, brimming with debonair suitors. In 2026, the idea of a suave, confident young man approaching a woman of my generation is absurd. It’s no wonder we fantasise instead about being courted by muscle-bound minotaurs and rampaging werewolves – and secretly devour romantic fantasy novels.

So take it, Keir. Take my phone away. Please. This little rectangle of horrors has already stolen so much of my life. You want to protect the adults-to-be, but I too want to be an adult, who is protected. If social media was taken from us now, my generation could start to rebuild what’s left of our lives. So ban it. Ban everything. Every photo. Every tweet. Every speck of digital distraction. Then go further. Ban smartphone manufacturers from including front-facing cameras on their mobile devices. Put an end to the scourge of selfies for good.

One exception: this particular social media platform, Substack, where I publish this rather lucrative newsletter to paying subscribers. This must stay, as my own personal pied-à-terre in the dangerous online world. If only to keep watch.