ASMR can be a great way for young people to unwind but it can lead to unintended consequences - Sara Taylor explores this possible slippery slope
The rise of the whisper
If you’ve ever stumbled across a video of someone whispering softly into a microphone, tapping their nails on a glass jar, or brushing the lens with a makeup brush, you’ve likely met the world of ASMR. It stands for “Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response”, a phrase describing the tingling, calming sensation that some people feel when they hear certain sounds or watch slow, detailed movements. For many young people, ASMR is their bedtime routine. It helps them switch off from overstimulation, ease anxiety, and even manage insomnia.
What began as sensory comfort has, in many corners of the internet, blurred into sensuality, and sometimes slides further
As someone who regularly falls asleep listening to ocean sounds, the appeal is easy to understand. In a culture that never stops scrolling, ASMR feels like a pocket of quiet attention. It offers something most teenagers crave but rarely find, calm and care. For parents, it might even feel like a welcome alternative to gaming or TikTok trends that fuel comparison and chaos.
But as with so much online, the picture is more complex. ASMR began as a wellness tool, yet its soft tones and close-up intimacy have slowly become fertile ground for more suggestive material. What began as sensory comfort has, in many corners of the internet, blurred into sensuality, and sometimes slides further.
From calm to craving
The shift hasn’t happened by accident. Platforms like YouTube and TikTok reward engagement above all. Content that draws longer watch times or stronger reactions is pushed to more users. Whispered voices, gentle breathing, and mouth sounds naturally create a sense of closeness, which easily crosses from comforting to flirtatious. Some creators lean into that tension, using sexualised triggers or suggestive role-plays. These are not always explicit, but enough to hook attention.
This is where ASMR starts to act as what psychologists call a ‘gateway stimulus’. The brain’s reward system doesn’t distinguish between types of arousal; it simply learns that certain sounds or images create a pleasurable response. Over time, that response dulls unless it’s intensified. Researchers studying dopamine pathways in addiction and online pornography describe a process of tolerance: the same trigger no longer satisfies, so the brain seeks stronger stimuli.
Without realising it, a teenager seeking rest might be drawn toward content that feels emotionally or physically stimulating instead of soothing
For young viewers, this can lead to a slow, almost unnoticeable shift. Videos that once felt calming start to include language or sounds that feel more personal or intimate. The line between comfort and sensuality becomes blurred, and what was once a way to unwind can start to awaken curiosity or desire. What starts as calm can end as craving. Without realising it, a teenager seeking rest might be drawn toward content that feels emotionally or physically stimulating instead of soothing.
It’s the thin end of the wedge. A gentle push that seems harmless at first, but once the door is open, it rarely stays half-open for long. What begins as comfort-seeking can, over time, become curiosity-driven, and eventually exposure to sexualised or pornographic material. The movement is subtle, but its direction is clear.
Algorithmic drift
Parents often assume that to encounter explicit material online, young people must go looking for it. The truth is less reassuring. Recommendation algorithms are designed to keep users watching, not to protect them from what comes next. Studies of video platforms show how quickly a user engaging with one type of content can be guided toward more extreme versions.
because ASMR often skirts around nudity or explicit language, it slips past moderation filters that would otherwise restrict adult material
In ASMR, that escalation can be subtle: slightly lower voices, slower breathing, more direct eye contact, or thumbnails that look more like adult entertainment than relaxation. Many creators aren’t deliberately producing pornographic content, but the platform mechanics reward whatever keeps audiences hooked. Algorithms don’t ask if your child is tired, lonely, or curious; they just feed what keeps them watching. And, because ASMR often skirts around nudity or explicit language, it slips past moderation filters that would otherwise restrict adult material.
For under-18s, the result is exposure to an intimacy they’re not emotionally ready to process. Some channels also blur boundaries through role-play. That might look like pretending to be a caring partner, a school nurse, or a comforting friend. When those roles are sexualised, the lines between affection, attention, and arousal become dangerously thin.
Faith, embodiment and healthy sensation
It’s important to say clearly, sensory experiences themselves aren’t the problem. God designed human beings with bodies capable of deep physical and emotional response. Touch, sound, rhythm, and rest are all part of how we experience peace and connection. The Christian tradition has long recognised this, from the stillness of contemplative prayer to the embodied worship of song and movement. As Psalm 139 reminds us, we are “fearfully and wonderfully made”, every nerve and sense designed with care.
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What makes online sensuality different is not that it involves the senses, but that it isolates them from genuine relationship. Instead of intimacy that is mutual and safe, digital platforms offer stimulation without responsibility. It creates a kind of counterfeit closeness, an echo of care that never quite satisfies.
Parents can help young people see this distinction. A healthy theology of the body doesn’t suppress pleasure; it places it in the context of wholeness and mutuality. When we see our bodies as something God designed with care, we learn to seek peace that brings us together - body, mind and spirit - the kind that Philippians 4:8 points us toward.
What parents can do
This isn’t a call to panic or to ban ASMR entirely. Much of it remains harmless and even helpful. But it is a call to awareness. The goal isn’t to ban the whisper, but to tune the frequency. Start by asking what kind of ASMR your child enjoys and why. Is it relaxation, reassurance, or simply the sensory satisfaction of sound? Listening without judgement opens the door for honest conversation.
Explain how algorithms work. Highlight the fact that platforms don’t distinguish between calming and sexualised versions of the same content. Encourage curiosity about what they see and how it makes them feel. If they notice certain videos producing strong physical or emotional reactions, talk about that openly. Helping them to understand how the brain links pleasure and stimulation demystifies what can otherwise feel confusing or shameful.
Approach these conversations with an open-minded, be ready to listen, as much as to guide. The aim isn’t to instruct or interrogate, but to understand. When young people feel shamed or silenced, they’re more likely to explore in secret. But when they feel safe, they’re far more likely to bring their questions into the light.
The risk lies not in the whisper itself but in what happens when we let platforms, not people, define what peace should feel like
Setting simple boundaries also helps: shared screen spaces, time limits for night-time browsing, and checking the kinds of channels followed. If your child is using ASMR for anxiety or sleep, explore non-screen alternatives, such as, white-noise machines, relaxation playlists, or guided breathing apps. And if you discover content that feels inappropriate, treat it as an opportunity for guidance, not guilt.
ASMR began as a way to find calm in a restless world, and at its best, it still offers that. The risk lies not in the whisper itself but in what happens when we let platforms, not people, define what peace should feel like. For young people learning to navigate their bodies, emotions, and faith, the boundary between comfort and craving can be hard to see.
True rest isn’t found in content that must always intensify to keep us satisfied. It’s found in connection that doesn’t need to perform. In the quiet, where we are fully known and already safe. Helping our children recognise that difference may be one of the most important digital discipleship tasks we face today.
For discussion
Here are a few quick ways to start the conversation:
1. What do you like about ASMR videos?
2. Have you seen one that suddenly felt different or awkward?
3. Philippians 4:8 says to think about what’s good and pure, how could that guide what you watch?
