Adultification is a bias that strips Black girls of their childhood, forcing them to grow up before they’re ready. Whether it’s in classrooms, on social media, or in viral videos, they’re often treated like little adults instead of children who deserve patience, protection, and joy.
Here at Free Black Femmes, we want Black women and girls to experience joy—not just survive, but rest, play, and be seen. If that resonates with you, you’ll want to check out our piece on the National Day of Rest for Black Women.
Rumi Carter and the Expectations We Place on Black Girls
When Rumi Carter walked onstage beside her mother, Beyoncé, during the Cowboy Carter tour, she looked exactly how a 7-year-old should: joyful, a little nervous, and clearly soaking up a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And yet, people criticized her excitement. Honestly? If I got to share a stage with Beyoncé, I’d be freaking out too—and I’m a grown woman.
This moment, while seemingly light-hearted, captures a deeper problem. Black girls are routinely expected to perform maturity, professionalism, and poise far beyond their years. From viral videos to classroom discipline, these expectations range from annoying to dangerous.
What Is the Meaning of Adultification?
Adultification is when a child is treated or viewed as older than they actually are. It’s the assumption that they possess the emotional maturity, knowledge, or responsibility of someone well beyond their age. This might look like expecting a young girl to “know better,” assuming she understands adult conversations, or interpreting her confidence as disrespect.
For Black children—especially Black girls—adultification takes on a more dangerous form. It’s not just occasional over-expectation. It becomes a pattern rooted in racial bias. That’s what we call adultification bias: the societal tendency to view Black girls as less innocent, less in need of protection, and more adult-like than their white peers. This perception doesn’t just exist in the minds of individuals—it shapes how Black girls are treated by schools, law enforcement, healthcare providers, and even their own communities.
The Georgetown Law Center’s 2017 study, “Girlhood Interrupted,” found that Black girls are seen as needing less nurturing, less protection, and less support than their white peers—as early as age 5. That shift in perception has lifelong effects.
The Four Types of Adultification
There are four primary ways adultification bias shows up in the lives of Black girls:
- Precocious Knowledge – Assuming Black girls understand or are interested in adult topics, especially sexuality.
- Social Maturity – Expecting them to navigate social interactions like adults, especially in conflict.
- Emotional Toughness – Believing they don’t need comfort or protection when experiencing stress, sadness, or trauma.
- Independence – Treating them as self-sufficient, even when they’re clearly in need of help or guidance.
These assumptions might sound subtle, but they can lead to disproportionate punishment, lack of support, and serious mental health impacts.
Examples of How Adultification Bias Plays Out
Adultification bias doesn’t always show up in obvious ways. Sometimes it’s a teacher saying “you know better” to a kindergartener. Other times, it’s a police officer treating a teenager like a criminal instead of a child.
- In School: Black girls are suspended at higher rates than any other group, often for “disrespect” or “defiance.”
- In the Media: From Wynta-Amor Rogers being called “the face of a movement” to LaR’iyah Jesireé (“Miss Shirley”) being marketed for meet-and-greets at adult venues—Black girls are turned into symbols or brands, often without consent.
- In Society: Viral fame and social media visibility bring adult commentary, expectations, and scrutiny that white children rarely face.
A Closer Look at the “Miss Shirley” Conversation
LaR’iyah Jesireé, affectionately known online as “Miss Shirley,” went viral for her joyful, confident dancing—especially her performance of the now-iconic “Boots on the Ground” routine. Her coordination, stage presence, and charisma are remarkable, especially for a four-year-old. It’s no wonder the internet fell in love. But what began as a celebration of a talented child quickly turned into something that feels more exploitative than endearing.
Let’s start with the name: her real name isn’t Shirley. That nickname—”Miss Shirley”—is a character assigned to her, not one she chose or could even fully understand. It evokes the image of an older Black woman, maybe a church lady or someone with “grown woman” wisdom. But LaR’iyah is a toddler. As charming as the contrast may seem on the surface, it places an adult persona on a child who’s still forming her sense of self.
Then there’s the video of her wearing a red dress, applying lipstick, and putting on a pair of high heels while dancing to Johnny Gill’s “My, My, My”—a song with clear adult themes. That video has racked up millions of views. And the promotional appearances? Her mother has booked her for meet-and-greets at bars—venues where children generally aren’t even allowed. Whether intended or not, these decisions put LaR’iyah in adult spaces, both literally and figuratively, and expose her to scrutiny, commentary, and expectations far beyond her years.
It’s important to be clear: this is not about shaming LaR’iyah or even just her mother. It’s about a system—both social and digital—that turns Black girl joy into a brand. That labels a four-year-old as “grown” because she’s confident. That rewards virality while ignoring the long-term effects of adultifying a child for clicks, likes, and applause.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is the difference between adultification and parentification?
Adultification is how adults treat children—projecting maturity and responsibility onto them unfairly. Parentification, on the other hand, refers to children taking on adult roles within their families, like caring for siblings or managing household duties.
How do I know if I’m contributing to adultification bias?
If you find yourself expecting emotional control, independence, or sexual awareness from a Black girl that you wouldn’t expect from a white peer, it’s worth examining where that expectation comes from. Bias isn’t always intentional, but it always has an impact.
What can be done to interrupt this bias?
- Challenge yourself and others when you hear language like “she’s fast” or “she acts grown.”
- Support Black girls in expressing their emotions, whether it’s vulnerability, joy, fear, anger, or silliness.
- Share and amplify resources from organizations actively researching and fighting adultification bias.
Final Thoughts on Adultification
Black girls deserve the full experience of childhood. They deserve to be loud, playful, uncertain, and protected. Recognizing adultification bias is the first step—but action has to follow. We owe them more than praise when they act like little adults. We owe them freedom from ever needing to.
