During a hot midsummer day at the beach, I received a direct message on Instagram from a woman with a private account that made me furrow my brow deeply. She accused me of treating my newborn baby like an accessory—a satin clutch at a dinner party. I’ll admit, in the photo she was referring to, both the baby and I looked great. Her pink-ginger complexion reminded me of Ariel, while I looked like a Jamaican crab next to her. With my boxers and the baby’s diaper, we could have passed for a Calvin Klein ad—if they made clothes for infants or cast slightly underweight, sleep-deprived new dads. I simply replied, “Good one,” and blocked her because I can be petty like that.

I wish I could say I moved on quickly, but it stuck with me—hence why I’m writing about it now. As a parent, deciding whether to show your baby’s face online is a whole debate. Last weekend on Subway Takes, former Grub Street editor Sierra Tishgart criticized the “visually heinous” practice of covering kids’ faces with emojis on Instagram. The general opinion seems to be that you either keep it private (like sharing baby photos with friends on WhatsApp) or go public, with the baby’s face front and center. There’s something about the hyper-awareness of “pedophiles who might follow me” that makes attempts to hide a child’s identity seem creepier than not posting at all.

I’m not sure how relevant it is to talk about my baby’s face, which I photograph and post freely. Some—most!—babies are born looking a bit like ET, with fragile joints and sinewy limbs, their heads like a ball in a sock. But my daughter came out perfectly formed, with chubby cheeks and Cupid’s bow lips, her nose tilted slightly upward. She’s what my grandmother would have called “bonny,” if she were still alive. I tell people she’s like my personal HBO, with captivating programming made just for me. She’s enchanting and radiant; of course, I’m taking a ton of pictures. (And just to be clear, I’d love her even if she were a “Monet”—beautiful from a distance but not up close.)

As a new parent, you feel not only compelled to talk about how wonderful it is—and it is—but also to show off that beauty, parading your child through the digital streets as if townspeople are gathering for a rare glimpse of perfection. Life now revolves around you and the baby. I do miss the days when I could have a gummy multivitamin and two Negronis for lunch, but being on call, present, and clear-headed isn’t the punishment I expected. My whole life is about this new person, and like many of us, I’m used to sharing large parts of my life online.

Of course, with all this sharing, I worry that I’m setting my baby on a path focused on looks. No one batted an eye when I started posting pictures of my cat. But that anonymous woman made me reflect on my urge to share. Am I guilty of passing on the narcissism of our age to the next generation? Should I be showing the messier side of parenthood—the diaper rash, the five hours in the ER after she daringly launched herself off a table (she’s fine)? Is my baby more or less likely to become a nuclear physicist if I show everyone her features? Can she be an astronaut if she’s not incognito? Will she become prime minister if we ignore her appearance and focus on developing a well-rounded personality?

She’s a bit of a miracle child, winning the genetic lottery as a super relaxed baby with a go-with-the-flow nature that I’m eager to nurture. She sleeps through the night, which is rare at four months, and rarely cries for more than six minutes. Are these the qualities I should be highlighting?

Posting pictures of my baby doesn’t feel like a lifestyle flex or an achievement brag as much as it feels like continuing a conversation I’ve been having with my followers since they started following me. They’ve seen my years bored in an office job, the times I sat alone in Berlin writing my books, picking at my skin and overthinking; they’ve witnessed the era when I felt…As a working-class kid, I always felt out of place in more privileged circles. I longed for a basic level of comfort—where new school shoes weren’t a luxury saved for payday and my mattress had a proper bedframe. But for the last six or seven years, my only real goal has been to have a baby.

Now that she’s here, I just want to soak in every moment of her presence. I’ve never been interested in flaunting a picture-perfect life or posting achievements just to make others envious. Starting out in publishing, I learned the importance of storytelling and context, and how a personal perspective can resonate publicly. While I do think about visuals, my posts are mainly an expression of who I am—my unique take on a world that’s absurd, entertaining, and full of humor, especially now with my daughter in it.

When I look at my baby, I don’t see the cost of surrogacy finally being worth it. I don’t see a chance to showcase a trendy gay dad lifestyle. I don’t see an opportunity or content. I just see her.

There’s value in showing the life of a Black, gay man thriving unapologetically, especially when many still resist the idea of Black and gay people succeeding. I wrestle with this daily: Am I showing off, or am I representing what’s possible for marginalized people? I don’t have the answer, and maybe I never will. But for now, just look at my beautiful girl!

Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of helpful and clear FAQs about sharing photos of your babys face online

Beginner General Questions

1 Why is this even a concern Isnt it harmless to share cute baby pictures
While sharing is a natural impulse the main concern is your childs digital privacy and safety Once a photo is online you lose control over who sees it saves it or how it might be used in the future

2 What are the main risks of posting my babys photos online
The primary risks include
Data Collection Photos can be used to build a digital profile of your child without their consent
Digital Kidnapping Strangers can save and share the photos sometimes claiming your child as their own
Location Tracking Photos can contain metadata that reveal your home address or frequented locations
Future Embarrassment A cute photo today might be embarrassing for your teenager tomorrow

3 I only share on private accounts Is that safe enough
A private account is much safer than a public one but its not foolproof Your followers can still take screenshots or download and share the photos with their own networks outside of your control

Privacy Safety Concerns

4 Can someone steal my babys identity from a photo
For serious identity theft more information is needed However a photo combined with other shared details can contribute to building a profile that could be misused later

5 What is sharenting and is it bad
Sharenting is a blend of sharing and parenting referring to the habit of parents posting content about their children online Its not inherently bad but it becomes a problem when its done without considering the childs present and future privacy

6 Could these photos be used for AI or deepfake technology
Yes As technology advances photos of your childs face could potentially be used to train AI models or create digital avatars and deepfakes without your knowledge or consent

Practical Tips Alternatives

7 What are some safer alternatives to posting fullface photos
You can share the moment while protecting their identity by posting photos that