Pictured above, from left to right: Xavier, Aleah and Hunter.

Xavier’s world revolves around basketball. His bedroom is drenched in University of North Carolina colors and signage because that’s where he plans to play college basketball someday. His closet is filled with Nike sneakers, his drawers with court-ready tees and shorts that round out his athletic look.

Afternoons are spent shooting hoops in the driveway or at practice, and summers are all about basketball camp.

Xavier fuels his passion with YouTube highlights of gifted players, social media feeds of basketball influencers and documentaries about NBA stars. He is a self-proclaimed “baller”—that’s what his peers call him, too.

Aleah’s worldview and aesthetic are quite different. Her room is covered in animal prints and cat-themed decor. “I’m a cat” T-shirts hang in her closet alongside belts with removable tails. Fuzzy slippers that mimic paws and headphones with “ears” rest next to her bed.

Aleah strongly believes “animals are better than people,” and she isn’t embarrassed to admit that her cat, Oreo, is one of her best friends. They snuggle, watch Unikitty and My Cat From Hell, and send her friends funny cat GIFs and pictures.

At school, Aleah loves pretending she’s a cat. When asked about a test grade, she licks her closed hand and rubs it across her eyebrow or makes a hissing sound. Friends understand the secret language and give her a sympathetic hug. Others at school know Aleah and her friends as “furries”—animal lovers who act like animals.

She takes pride in the “furry” moniker and is frustrated that her school recently created a “no tails, no ears, no collars or leashes” policy that quells her self-expression. (School administrators see it as a distraction and worry that it could be confused with the sexual or fetish-based “furries” of the adult world.)

Hunter is fine if you refer to him as “they,” “he” or even “she.” He sees gender labels as limiting, and believes that adults obsessing over pronouns is silly. In fact, he finds many things ridiculous.

He’s a thinker and a feeler, with as many girl friends as guy friends—all with long, dark bangs that create a pensive mystique. Hunter is artistic and expressive, with pens, markers, song lyrics and sketches scattered all over his bedroom. Black eye liner sits on a bedside table, while plenty of black clothes and high-top Converse sneakers rest in the closet.

Hunter’s aesthetic represents the darkness he sees in the world—school shooters, divorce, abuse, climate change, racism, violence. To escape, he binge-watches Stranger Things and listens to emo rappers like Lil Peep and Juice Wrld.

Schoolmates refer to Hunter and his friends as “emo kids” or “e-boys” and “e-girls.” He doesn’t care about the label; he’s more focused on convincing his parents to let him get his first piercing.

Xavier, Aleah and Hunter aren’t teens in your local high school. They are 12, eight and 10 years old, respectively. Alongside peers like the attention-hungry “Pickme Girl” and the Pokémon- and Naruto-loving “Anime Kid,” they are part of a new wave of kids who have found their passions—and their people—much earlier than past generations.

Children coming of age in the 2020s are the product of several demographic, tech and lifestyle trends that have coalesced to create niche-based kid personas that are deeper and more distinct than those of yesteryear.

Demographic shifts

There are more “only children” around the world today than ever before. Growing up in a single-child family—particularly during a pandemic—can result in more solitary play, personal exploration and longing for like-minded peer groups and playmates.

As well, a record number of kids are now home-schooled, “unschooled” or attend remote K-12 institutions. This, too, can create strong desires to connect with peers.

Pet ownership is also at an all-time high. More adults treat and refer to their pets as their children/babies and see them as family members. Hence, more children are growing up with four-legged “siblings” and playmates.

Tech-fueled passions

Childhood is defined by curiosity and discovery. It’s also a highly social time, when kids come to understand the world and their place in it through interactions and experiences. They need social engagement and will find it if it’s missing.

Growing up during the pandemic meant that many opportunities for IRL social engagement were put on hold, and digital exploration and discovery took over. Kids connected with existing friends and met new ones who became “their people” via shared digital experiences.

Through TikTok communities, YouTube videos and even Google searches, kids have found more information about—and more people who share—their (often niche) interests, in turn fueling their confidence in that interest.

The algo effect 

Endless streaming content options—assisted by “for you” algorithms—have allowed young people to explore their interests and discover their passions in ways that linear programming and traditional kid broadcasting never have.

Like adults, kids have gone down the digital “rabbit hole” to learn anything and everything about their topics of interest.

Digital identities

The expansion of avatars, the metaverse and anthropomorphic playthings continues to blur the lines between reality and fantasy, digital and IRL personas. Kids can be whoever they want to be online, so why not in real life, too? If Aleah can be a cat on Fortnite, Roblox and TikTok, why not at school?

Under the influence

Social media influencers play a key role in feeding children’s niche interests and behaviors. If a kid is into makeup, there are tens of thousands of influencers available with a tap or a click to give advice, show off their skills and inspire makeup creativity. The same is true whether a kid is passionate about dogs, dancing or interior design.

While kids enjoy connecting with their IRL friends about common interests, they are also OK having more unique passions because there are plenty of other kids/influencers to engage with about them online.

Express yourself

Globally, there has been a push towards kids speaking up for and expressing themselves. Concerned about children’s physical and mental well-being, adults have told kids to share their feelings and find friends they can connect with and rely on.

Kids and tweens are finding their people and creating their “tribes” in ways formerly seen among teens. Today, more personal exploration, identity development and creation of like-minded (and similarly dressed) friendship circles is taking place between ages six and 12.

Opportunities

Understanding kid archetypes can help content and product developers create more relevant and authentic characters, storylines and offerings. Profiles can also serve as a foundation for segmentation in the ever-changing kids marketplace, allowing companies and marketers to zero in on key prospects while identifying their typical style, behaviors, product needs and brand wishes.

The long-standing mission “to create for all kids” is becoming less effective in an era of niche-based affinities and kid/tween personas more akin to teens of yester- year. Segmenting kids beyond broad age groupings and (sometimes) gender is worth a second look.

Kid types are derived from one-on-one interviews with more than 80 US kids ages six to 12, parents with kids in this age range, and elementary and middle-school teachers.

Wynne Tyree is founder and president of Smarty Pants, a strategic research and consulting firm that specializes in life stages, lifestyles and trends. This story originally appeared in Kidscreen‘s Oct/Nov 2022 magazine.