What will our children dance to?
Jamaican music is one of the island’s greatest cultural exports. From the infectious rhythms of ska and rocksteady to the revolutionary messages of reggae and the energetic beats of dancehall, our music has travelled beyond our shores, influencing international artistes, shaping global trends, and introducing the world to the creativity of the Jamaican people. Our sound is powerful, recognisable, and deeply rooted in our identity. However, amid the celebration of our musical achievements, there is a question we must begin to ask ourselves: Where do our children fit into the Jamaican music industry?
This question is not an attack on dancehall, its artistes, or the freedom of musical expression; rather, it is a call for greater consideration of an audience that appears to have been largely overlooked — our children.
Jamaican music has always reflected the society in which it exists. It tells stories about our struggles, celebrations, relationships, ambitions, and everyday experiences. Yet we must also acknowledge that certain aspects of contemporary dancehall have increasingly embraced themes of gun violence, scamming, sexual exploitation, and other forms of criminality. From the days of the Gully versus Gaza rivalry, associated with Vybz Kartel and Mavado, to contemporary songs that celebrate scamming culture and the acquisition of illegal wealth, we cannot ignore the messages being communicated through some of our popular music.
There is also the issue of sexually explicit lyrics and the objectification of women, which make much of the popular music unsuitable for younger audiences. While adults may exercise their freedom to listen to whatever they choose, children are not simply miniature adults. They are developing individuals who are still learning how to understand, interpret, and navigate the world around them.
Psychologist Albert Bandura’s Social Learning Theory provides an important perspective on this issue. Bandura explains that individuals learn behaviour through observation, imitation, and modelling. Children, in particular, may imitate the behaviour of people they admire or consider influential. When they repeatedly encounter lyrics that glorify violence, dishonesty, and disrespect, we must consider the possible influence these messages may have on their attitudes and perceptions of what is socially acceptable.
This does not mean that every child who listens to explicit dancehall will become violent or engage in criminal activity. That would be an unfair conclusion. However, it would be equally irresponsible to dismiss the influence that repeated exposure to certain messages can have on developing minds.
Music does not single-handedly create culture, but it certainly helps to shape it. And if our children are among the consumers of popular music, why are we not creating more music with them in mind?
Consider the experience of a primary school teacher or principal organising a sports day, school barbecue, graduation celebration, or cultural event. The intention is simple: Create an atmosphere in which children can enjoy themselves, sing along, and dance to Jamaican music. The DJ arrives, the speakers are set up, and the music begins. But before long, the teacher is faced with an uncomfortable decision — skip popular songs because of their lyrics or allow children to dance to music that was never intended for their age group.
This highlights a wider problem within our entertainment industry. We have created a musical space in which children are expected to consume adult content because there are not enough alternatives designed specifically for them.
How many Jamaican songs can a DJ confidently play at a primary school function without worrying about explicit sexual references, gun lyrics, profanity, or inappropriate messages? How many can sustain the energy of a four-hour event without repeatedly playing the same selections? The pool is surprisingly small.
Our children should not have to depend almost entirely on international nursery rhymes or a handful of traditional folk songs to experience age-appropriate music. They deserve to enjoy the Jamaican sound, too. They deserve music with our basslines, rhythms, dances, humour, language, and unmistakable cultural flavour.
Importantly, children’s music should not be restricted to nursery rhymes. A three-year-old in preschool has different developmental needs from a 10-year-old in primary school or a sixteen-year-old in high school. We must therefore create music that speaks to different stages of childhood and adolescence.
For younger children, songs can introduce colours, numbers, letters, animals, body parts, healthy eating, movement, and social skills. For older children, music can explore friendship, confidence, self-esteem, Jamaican history, patriotism, sports, environmental responsibility, and positive decision-making.
These subjects do not have to be presented in a boring or overly educational manner. They can be delivered through infectious dancehall rhythms, catchy choruses, and exciting dance moves.
International creators have already demonstrated that children’s entertainment is a viable and influential market. Consider “Ms Rachel”, the American early childhood educator and content creator who has built an enormous following through educational songs and interactive videos for babies, toddlers, and preschoolers. “
Her success is particularly worth examining. According to vidIQ’s channel statistics recorded on November 10, 2026, her YouTube channel, Ms Rachel – Toddler Learning Videos, had approximately 21.8 million subscribers and 18.12 billion cumulative views, with 126 videos published. Think about that figure, more than 18 billion views!
Her content combines music, repetition, movement, facial expressions, colourful visuals, and opportunities for children to participate. She has demonstrated that children are not simply an audience to be accommodated within the wider entertainment industry. They are an audience worth creating for.
Imagine a Jamaican children’s music and entertainment platform featuring local artistes, dancers, musicians, teachers, and cultural practitioners. Imagine songs teaching children about the parishes, national heroes, Jamaican foods, traditional games, environmental preservation, and good manners, all delivered through authentic Jamaican rhythms.
Our children could learn about ackee and saltfish through a catchy song, practise counting through dancehall-inspired beats, learn the names of Jamaican parishes through an energetic musical challenge, or explore our history through animated storytelling.
Fortunately, the Jamaican music industry is not completely without examples. Artistes such as Macka Diamond, Ding Dong, and Elephant Man have, at different times, produced songs and dance movements that demonstrate how energetic Jamaican music can appeal to younger audiences without relying entirely on explicit themes.
Macka Diamond’s Dandy Shandy is particularly significant because it draws on a traditional Jamaican children’s game. Her songs Hoola Hoop and Bunji Up also demonstrate the possibilities of movement-based entertainment.
Ding Dong’s Fling, Genna Bounce, and Lebeh Lebeh, along with Elephant Man’s Signal Di Plane and Sweep provide further examples of dance-centred music that can encourage participation and movement.
These examples are not an argument that every song by these artistes is automatically suitable for children. They, however, demonstrate that Jamaican artistes can create energetic, recognisable music around dance, movement, and participation.
We also have traditional songs, such as Brown Girl in the Ring, Mango Time, and Linstead Market, which continue to connect children with our cultural heritage. However, a few examples are not enough to serve an entire generation. Our children need new releases, new dances, new musical experiences, and artistes who deliberately recognise them as an audience.
One argument that may arise is that producing music for children is not financially attractive. Dancehall is competitive, and artistes naturally want to create music that generates streams, bookings, performances, and revenue. However, I would challenge established artistes and upcoming producers to look at the bigger picture. What if investing in children’s music today means building a loyal audience for tomorrow? Children who grow up listening to an artiste’s music may develop an attachment to that artiste’s sound, personality, and brand.
So what will our children dance to?
This is a question that requires a collective response from artistes, producers, record labels, educators, parents, policymakers, and the wider entertainment industry.
I am not advocating for the censorship of dancehall or suggesting that artistes should abandon the music that has made Jamaica internationally recognised. Adults must retain the freedom to express themselves creatively; however, artistic freedom and the creation of age-appropriate entertainment can coexist.
Imagine a Jamaica where every primary school has access to a diverse collection of local children’s music. Imagine high school students having Jamaican songs that allow them to dance, celebrate their culture, and enjoy themselves without being exposed to inappropriate lyrical content. Imagine local artistes competing to create the next big children’s dance rather than leaving that market almost entirely to international creators.
Imagine our children dancing to music that celebrates being Jamaican.
The music may change, the rhythms may evolve, and the dances may come and go, but our responsibility to the next generation must remain.
Ricardo Palmer is a secondary school educator.
