Sexual Health Week 2025 arrives with a theme that feels tailor-made for our times: "chronically online". In South Africa, where the average young person spends upwards of six hours a day scrolling, swiping, and streaming, this is not just a catchy phrase but a lived reality shaping how we learn about sex, relationships, consent, and our own bodies.
The internet has become South Africa’s biggest sex educator.
For many, it’s easier to search TikTok than to have “the talk” with a parent or a teacher.
And sometimes, that’s a good thing: young queer South Africans in conservative households, for instance, can find affirming communities online; young women can learn about contraception options beyond whispers and myths, and teens can access information they will never get in life-orientation textbooks.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the internet doesn’t always teach, it often deceives.
A single WhatsApp forward about a “miracle HIV cure” can undo years of public health education.
A trending TikTok “fertility hack” can lead to unintended pregnancies. Facebook groups still circulate myths that condoms cause infertility or that ARVs are unnecessary.
In a country where over 7.8 million people live with HIV, being chronically online is not a neutral habit; it can be a matter of life and death.
Consent doesn’t log off
South Africa has strong laws on paper.
The Cybercrimes Act (2021) criminalises revenge porn and the non-consensual sharing of intimate images, but the reality on the ground is murkier.
Teens continue to share nudes without understanding how fast a private picture can become public property.
Women face online harassment that mirrors the country’s staggering rates of gender-based violence.
Consent is no longer only about what happens in the bedroom, but rather about what happens on phones, on servers, and also in DMs.
Our health strategies must catch up: digital literacy and consent education must be taught as rigorously as condom use.
Mariangela Caineri Zenati 1 day Scrolling ourselves sick?
The mental health dimension is just as pressing.
South Africa’s youth unemployment crisis, compounded by violence and poverty, already fuels depression and anxiety.
Add Instagram’s hyper-sexualised body culture, or TikTok’s endless comparison traps, and you get a cocktail of low self-esteem and sexual anxiety.
At the same time, the digital sphere is a double-edged sword: it also enables campaigns like #AmINext, which mobilised thousands against gender-based violence, or grassroots health initiatives like MomConnect, which provides vital information to expecting mothers through mobile phones.
The question is not whether we should be chronically online because we already are. The question is: who is shaping the content we consume, and what are the consequences?
Where do we go from here?
If South Africa is serious about turning “chronically online” into a health opportunity rather than a hazard, a few things must happen:
- Scale up digital-first sexual health services. HIV self-testing kits, contraception delivery apps, and confidential online counselling must be mainstreamed, not treated as pilots.
- Teach digital consent in schools. Not just biology, but how to critically evaluate sources, resist manipulation, and understand that sharing an intimate photo without consent is as violent as a physical act.
- Partner with influencers. Young South Africans don’t follow government websites; they follow creators. A sex-positive, myth-busting Instagram reel will always travel further than a dusty pamphlet.
- Push platforms to protect users. Meta, TikTok, and X profit from our attention, so they should also be held accountable for moderating misinformation and online abuse.
Shift attitudes
Being chronically online is not going away anytime soon.
The challenge is whether South Africa lets the internet become a breeding ground for misinformation, shame, and harm, or whether we use it to build a culture of honesty, health, and sexual agency.
As one activist put it during the #FeesMustFall movement: “If it’s not on social media, did it even happen?”
The same might be said of sexual health. If we want to save lives, shift attitudes, and build confidence, the work must be done online as much as offline.
Because the truth is simple: South Africa’s sexual future is already digital. The question is, will we take control of it?
