HO
OK:
PH
OTO
12 /
ALA
MY
ST
OC
K^ P
HOT
O.^ B
ASC
O:^ C
OU
RTE
SY^
OF^
SUB
JEC
T.^ R
EID
:^ SL
AVE
N^ V
LAS
IC/G
ETT
Y^ IM
AGE
S.^ S
IWA
:^ JO
N^ K
OPA
LOF
F/F
ILM
MA
GIC
.^ PR
INC
E:^ F
RAZ
ER^ H
AR
RIS
ON/
GET
TY^
IMA
GES
.^ ZIE
GLE
R:^ P
RES
LEY
AN
N/G
ETT
Y^ IM
AGE
S.
Young social media stars lack protection from parental exploitation, as legislation to address the problems loses its teeth in the
California Assembly: ‘This space is flooded with opportunities for people looking to make a quick buck’ By Harper Lambertne of the highest-paid child stars
of 2018 didn’t get his big break
appearing in films or on televi-
sion but instead on a considerably
smaller screen. In 2018, Ryan
Kaji, the 7-year-old behind YouTube channel
Ryan ToysReview, earned an estimated $22 mil-
lion by unboxing toys for the camera.
Kaji is part of a growing generation of
young social media superstars who self-
publish content on platforms like YouTube and
Instagram, where their millions of followers
generate lucrative ad revenue, brand partner-
ships and paid product endorsements. Though
his parents have been proactive about putting
the money Kaji earns aside for him to access
when he becomes an adult, digital influenc-
ers’ income (unlike children’s earnings from
work in traditional media), is not protected by
law — raising questions about the possibility of
parents exploiting young online talent.
The Coogan Law, which requires 15 per-
cent of a child’s earnings to be deposited in a
blocked trust account, is one of Hollywood’s
key mechanisms for protecting minors from
such exploitation. Enacted in 1939 after Jackie
Coogan sued his parents for burning through
the money he made as a child actor, 80 years
later it still protects young entertainers. Yet
advocates for child workers’ rights argue that
the law hasn’t kept pace with the digital age,
and as a result, kidfluencers are falling through
the cracks. In fact, no law outlines protections for minors earning income in
social media. It’s a cause for concern since, without protections, they stand to
lose millions to their own parents.
In 2018, California lawmakers took a first stab at this issue with a bill that
attempted to add “social media advertising” to the definition of employment
in child labor law. Under this “kidfluencer” bill, minors working in the digital
sphere would have to obtain a work permit and follow measures similar to
those required by the Coogan Law. The effort was spearheaded by Anne Henry,
co-founder of BizParentz, a nonprofit that advocates for children in entertain-
ment. Kidfluencing caught her attention after Arizona mom Katie Stauffer told
a local news outlet that she was able to quit her day job and pursue social media
full-time after her twin daughters (4-year-old influencers Mila and Emma)
blew up on Instagram. Stauffer responded to criticism with a line oft used by
parents of young digital talent: If my kids are having fun, what’s the big deal?
But Henry doesn’t see it that way. “If you’re lending your image and you’re doing
something to sell a product, it’s work,” she counters. “If it’s work, then your
money should be protected.”
The version of Assemblyman Kansen Chu’s bill that was signed into law and
went into effect in January was diluted significantly from what the Bay Area
representative originally proposed. It exempts young digital creators from
obtaining work permits if their performance is unpaid and shorter than an
hour. “We lost the battle in hopes of someday winning the war by trying to
define that digital exhibition counts,” says Henry. Critics of the kidfluencer bill
argued that enforcing work permits would be difficult, if not impossible. Unlike
traditional media, which is subject to strict schedules and studio oversight,
digital content can be filmed whenever and wherever a creator wants. This
was particularly problematic for the Studio Teachers Union, as California law
requires the services of an on-set educator when production takes more than
half an hour. “No one thought it was realistic to send a studio teacher into a
private home where kids are doing YouTube videos in their basement,” explains
Henry. But scrapping the work permit provision effectively prevented theANALYSISbill from enforcing Coogan Law protections,
because in Hollywood they’re a package deal:
If a parent doesn’t provide the studio with a
Coogan account number, his or her child’s work
permit is voided. And if work permits aren’t
mandatory for kidfluencers, their parents have
no legal obligation to open a Coogan account.
Henry insists that while most parents likely
don’t intend to steal from their kids, they may
be unprepared for a kidfluencer’s fame and
unequipped to handle it. But in the absence
of clearly defined rules or regulations, the
responsibility of protecting young influencers
often falls to their reps. Manager Byron Austen
Ashley of Settebello Entertainment requires
parents he works with to save their kids’ earn-
ings. “I made a policy at my company that we
only work with children if they’re entirely
protected by Coogan accounts,” he says, noting
that a child’s income is spent only to cover
necessary expenses like transportation and
legal fees.
One of Ashley’s star clients is Gavin Thomas,
who skyrocketed to internet fame at age 2 when
his uncle started posting clips of him on Vine.
Under his agent’s guidance, the now 8-year-old
Minneapolis native has a budding career that
includes commercials, brand partnerships and
a massive fan following in China. To ensure his
schedule complies with child labor laws, Ashley
works with Thomas’ family and legal team to
plan any non-union shoots. In his view, labor
abuse and financial exploitation go hand in hand: “If [parents] are using [the
child’s earnings] for personal reasons, that amplifies the risk of them planning
10-hour workdays, rather than structured, comfortable workdays.”
Chas Lacaillade, CEO and founder of Bottle Rocket Management, represents
the LeBlancs, a YouTube family that vlogs under the name Bratayley. His firm
makes up for the lack of regulations by referring clients to business manag-
ers. Annie and Hayley, the family’s two daughters, have separate Coogan
accounts and put 100 percent of their earnings in the bank. And the parents
of toy unboxer Ryan also use the 100 percent policy for his Nickelodeon series
Ryan’s Mystery Playdate — even though the law only demands that they set aside
15 percent. Noting that “all other sources of revenue are beyond Coogan Law’s
requirements,” Ryan’s father, Shoji, says that digital earnings are distributed
into “college savings, Coogan accounts, minor accounts and trust accounts”
for Ryan and his sisters, who also feature on the family YouTube channel. Not
everyone follows the honor system, however, including other managers. Says
Lacaillade, “This space is flooded with opportunities for people looking to make
a quick buck.”
Among influencers’ parents who are aware of the Coogan Law, Henry
says many feel it’s fundamentally anti-parent. “It’s basically saying they’re
expecting [you] to steal your kid’s money,” she says. “As a parent, that’s kind
of insulting. [There are] thousands of parents investing in their kid’s career
and having no payoff for every one that does it wrong.” Still, stakeholders feel
something should be done to curb existing exploitation. At the moment, a
child influencer’s only form of legal recourse is to sue his or her parents at the
age of 18. At the very least, the kidfluencer bill’s addition of “digital exhibi-
tion” to the labor code may strengthen a victim’s chances in court. It also
opens the door for introducing legislation specific to the Coogan Law, which
Chu aims to do in the coming year. That begins with stepping up efforts to
raise awareness of the progress that has been made. “We’re not doing enough
outreach,” he says, adding with a laugh: “We’re relying on social media to help
us promote this bill.”THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER 81 AUGUST 14, 2019