What happens when adolescence becomes a product line?

At a mall in Kashmir last week, I saw something quietly unsettling: a group of school boys, no
older than 13 debating the caffeine content of pre-workout powders.
They weren’t athletes. They weren’t prepping for nationals. They were just trying to find
something , anything that might make them feel taller, stronger, louder. This is what marketing
to teenagers looks like now.
From testosterone boosters to glass-skin serums, today’s teens are being sold things they don’t
need, for problems they don’t have, in order to fix a self they’re still becoming.

What used to be teenage doubt is now premium inventory.

What used to be awkward phases , skin, voice, shyness are now commercial entry points. For
teenage girls, the pressure is prettified: pastel bottles of anti-aging creams, retinol serums,
vitamin C toners, many of which are medically unfit for adolescent skin. Dermatologists warn
about long-term harm. But the product packaging is cute, the influencers are 16, and the
algorithm does the rest.
For boys, the marketing is more covert, and more brutal.Protein shakes, “alpha”
energy boosters, gym wear that screams performance. What’s being sold here isn’t health, it’s
dominance.
Behind the push for early skincare and early supplements is one idea repeated in different voices:
You’re not enough yet, but you could be-if you buy this.
We didn’t give them time to be. We gave them tasks to become.
Adolescence was once a messy, uncertain space — a stage where identity could stretch and
stumble freely. Now, it’s a marketplace. Identity is bought, not built.
Teenagers are no longer allowed to “grow into themselves.” They are encouraged to perform
versions of themselves: the Clean Girl. The Gym Guy. The Girlboss. The Hustler. What used to
be personality is now branding. What used to be style is now strategy.
Their anxiety isn’t accidental, it’s been forecast, budgeted, and branded

We didn’t give them time to be. We gave them tasks to become

Adolescence was once a messy, uncertain space — a stage where identity could stretch and
stumble freely. Now, it’s a marketplace. Identity is bought, not built.
Teenagers are no longer allowed to “grow into themselves.” They are encouraged to perform
versions of themselves: the Clean Girl. The Gym Guy. The Girlboss. The Hustler. What used to
be personality is now branding. What used to be style is now strategy.
Their anxiety isn’t accidental, it’s been forecast, budgeted, and branded

What looks like choice is often just cleverly disguised shame.

When a 14-year-old buys an expensive exfoliating acid, she’s not chasing skincare, she’s trying
to erase herself. When a 15-year-old boy buys “nootropic” brain pills, he’s not building
discipline, he’s managing panic.

Where are the adults?

Schools don’t talk about consumer literacy. Parents often try their best, but they don’t always
understand what their children are using , or how products are being pushed to them online.
Laws haven’t caught up with social media, and there’s little control over how brands reach
young people. Many influencers, who once struggled with the same insecurities, now make
money from promoting them.
We don’t need to fix everything at once. But maybe we can start small. Talk to teens about how
ads work. Teach them to ask, “Do I really need this, or am I just being sold a version of myself?”
Help parents understand the new world their kids are growing up in. And maybe, just maybehold influencers to the same standards we hold teachers or mentors. Teens don’t need perfect
skin or six-packs. They need people who tell them they’re okay as they are.
They aren’t addicted to products. They’ve just been told, quietly, constantly, that who they are is
never quite enough.

We owe teenagers the gift of being unmarketable

Let them be ordinary. Let them be awkward. Let them have frizzy hair and underdeveloped
muscles and badly lit selfies. Let them exist without being pitched a new self every five seconds.
Because there is no serum for lost innocence. And there is no supplement for peace of mind.
And there is still hope in raising a generation that sees past the packaging, and learns to say: I
don’t need fixing

Disclaimer: This piece was written by Parsa Tariq. Image by Sasin Tipchai via Pixabay.