Stop Watching Moms Destroy Their Daughters Online

The New Faces of Generational Trauma in the Digital Age

Photo by Dakota Lim on Unsplash

You’re scrolling TikTok late at night, half-distracted, when it appears: a mom, live-streaming, spewing vulgar sexual jokes, calling her daughter a “wetback” on camera. In the background, her daughter quietly pleads, “Mom, can you stop saying those things?”

And somehow, the comments keep flooding in. Laughing emojis. Thousands of likes. Viewers egging her on.

What does it say about us—that this is what we reward?

Mothers like Ashley Trevino have turned parenting into performance art at the expense of their daughters' dignity. But she's not the only one. We’ve seen it with Resilient Jenkins, using her platform to manipulate narratives around abuse while her own children remain in the fallout. We've seen it with Nurse Hannah, whose videos border on emotional exploitation—all cloaked under the guise of "relatable" parenting.

And perhaps one of the most egregious examples: Ash Trevino's documented history of encouraging her daughters to call her violent, incarcerated boyfriends "Daddy," including Francisco, a gang member serving time for multiple homicides. As detailed in Stephanie Soo's Rotten Mango video, Trevino has monetized live-streaming conversations with her prison partners, reportedly making up to $112,000 in a single session. All while her daughters sleep on air mattresses, are exposed to public doxxing, confrontations, neglect, and a stream of unsafe behaviors including drinking and driving, and being left alone while their mother parties.

These women aren't just moms on the internet. They’re part of a growing trend: weaponizing motherhood for clicks, followers, and digital validation—while their children bear the consequences.

Parenting as Spectacle: When Boundaries Disappear

There’s nothing inherently wrong with being candid about motherhood online. Parenting is messy, complicated, and isolatin

g, and social media could be a place to share that authentically.

But there’s a difference between sharing your struggles and publicly humiliating your child for engagement.

Ashley Trevino calling her daughter racist slurs, making sexual jokes, and behaving grotesquely on live streams isn’t about honesty. It’s about clout. It’s about the algorithm's hunger for chaos and controversy—and parents cashing in at the cost of their kids’ emotional well-being.

And the daughters? They don’t have a choice. They’re fi

lmed, exposed, mocked. Their boundaries shattered, their pleas ignored.

Why Does This Content Keep Thriving?

Here’s where it gets uncomfortable for all of us: this content survives because we watch it.

Every view, like, comment, and share reinforces the behavior. TikTok’s algorithm doesn't care about the harm—it only cares that people are engaging.

And whether it’s curiosity, voyeurism, or unresolved feelings about our own family dynamics, we’re participating in a cycle that turns generational trauma into viral content.

The Generational Trauma We’re Watching Unfold

What’s happening on TikTok isn’t isolated. It’s the public display of a much older pattern: generational trauma being passed down in real time.

Many of these mothers seem to be acting out unhealed wounds of their own—perhaps coming from homes where boundaries were crossed, respect wasn’t modeled, and chaos was normalized. Instead of breaking the cycle, they’ve found a way to monetize it. The pain and dysfunction get repackaged as content, and their daughters become collateral damage.

It’s not uncommon for people raised in environments lacking emotional safety to repeat those dynamics later, especially if they’ve never had the space or support to heal. But TikTok accelerates and amplifies that process, turning deeply personal dysfunction into public entertainment.

By rewarding these behaviors with views and engagement, we’re not just watching; we’re complicit in the cycle. The unresolved trauma of one generation becomes the viral trauma of the next.

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What Happens to These Daughters Later?

We know how the internet works. These videos don’t disappear. These daughters will grow up with their childhoods archived online—forever tied to their parents’ worst moments. Public humiliation becomes part of their digital footprint, whether they consented or not.

It’s exploitation, plain and simple.

And as viewers, we have to take responsibility for the role we play.

The Daughters Deserve Better

Here’s what I want to say plainly: Stop watching.

Stop feeding the algorithm that rewards vulgar, harmful parenting content.
Stop co-signing moms who weaponize their children for attention.
Unfollow. Block. Report if necessary.

Choose to protect the next generation’s right to dignity, privacy, and safety—whether online or off.

These daughters deserve boundaries, not broadcast humiliation. Protect their dignity. Opt out.

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