I think if we were going to worry about teen pregnancy being

Hear now the words of Chelsea Kane, who with clear sight declared: “I think if we were going to worry about teen pregnancy being glamorized, we should worry about shows like ‘Teen Mom’. If people are going to want to have children at a young age because they see it on TV, I think that depends on the type of person you’re dealing with.” Though her words are plain, within them lie deep questions of culture, influence, and the responsibility of both storytellers and those who receive their stories. For she reminds us that the image we see is not all-powerful; its impact is shaped by the heart that beholds it.

The meaning of this saying rests upon the tension between glamorization and reality. A show like Teen Mom does not invent the existence of young mothers, but it does place their struggles and stories into the light of entertainment. To some, this may seem to make such lives alluring, tempting, even enviable. Yet Kane wisely observes that the true effect of these portrayals lies not in the show itself, but in the nature of the person who watches. For one viewer may see only fame, while another sees struggle and hardship. Thus, influence is never one-sided; it depends upon the soil in which the seed of media is planted.

The origin of such debates is ancient, for humanity has always wrestled with the influence of stories upon conduct. The philosophers of Greece questioned whether tragedy and comedy corrupted youth, and Plato himself warned that tales of gods behaving immorally might lead men astray. Yet others argued that art merely reflects what already dwells within us, magnifying but not creating our desires. So too does Kane’s statement echo this timeless dilemma: does entertainment shape us, or merely reveal what we already are?

Consider the story of Rome, whose gladiatorial games both reflected and reinforced the empire’s hunger for spectacle. To some, these events were lessons in courage and endurance. To others, they became a school of cruelty, dulling the heart to bloodshed. The same show bore two meanings, depending on the person who received it. Likewise, a program like Teen Mom may be to one a warning of hardship, to another an inspiration to seek attention or sympathy. The power lies not only in the art, but in the heart of the beholder.

Kane’s words also carry a quiet warning: that we should not rush to condemn media alone without also considering the deeper roots of desire, insecurity, and identity. If a young girl sees teen pregnancy as glamorous, the problem may not lie solely in the show she watches, but in the hunger within her heart for recognition, love, or purpose. Media may fan the flame, but the spark already dwells in the soul. Thus, Kane calls us to look deeper—not only at what is displayed on TV, but at the lives and longings of those who watch.

The lesson is this: society must take responsibility not only for what it creates, but for how it nurtures the minds of its youth. Parents, teachers, and communities must guide the young in how to discern what they see, reminding them that fame is not the same as fulfillment, and that struggle is not to be envied. Stories will always be told—some wise, some foolish—but the soul that is well-rooted in truth will not be easily swayed.

Therefore, let us act with balance. Let us demand honest portrayals of life in media, neither hiding hardship nor making pain appear enviable. Let us guide our youth with conversations, not silence, teaching them to look beyond the glitter of the screen. And let each of us remember Kane’s wisdom: that the influence of the world depends not only on what is shown, but on the kind of person who is watching. Strengthen the person, and the image loses its power to deceive. For in the end, the truest safeguard against glamorization is not censorship, but the strength of a discerning heart.