A few weeks ago, my 14-year-old went into the garage, pulled out his skateboard and told me this was going to be his “skate park summer”. I was curious about what was sparking his renewed interest in an activity he hadn’t thought about since he was 12. His response: “The ban.”

I was thrilled. As far as I was concerned, Australia’s world-first social media law aimed at preventing children under 16 from accessing social media apps was already a success. But this week, as the ban took effect, my son wasn’t so sure. Access to his accounts remained largely unchanged. Many of his friends were in the same position. Across the country, the rollout has been uneven, as social media companies try to work out how to verify kids’ ages.

When the prime minister, Anthony Albanese, spoke about the ban this week, he warned there would be teething issues. However, Albanese’s main message was to kids. He encouraged them to spend the school holidays outside or reading, instead of scrolling on their phones. The comments were popular with parents but the PM’s TikTok account was spammed by younger people letting him know they were still online. Teenage content creators on social media platforms wasted no time making parody videos about older people’s earnest hopes that the ban would make kids go outside and touch grass.

The jokes tapped into one of my core concerns. I am a gen X parent whose children have come of age in the era of the smartphone. My partner and I monitored screentime with our kids, but we were totally unprepared for the effects technology would have on them. Like many parents, we resent the time and attention big tech companies have stolen from our family and we see the government’s move as an opportunity to wrest control back from big, powerful companies.

But in the days since the ban took effect, I have noticed that protecting our kids is not the only agenda we are pursuing. Many of my generation seem to want to go back to the good old days when childhood in Australia was dominated by sun, surf and backyard cricket. I sympathise with the sentiment, but I am also mindful that this idyllic vision of childhood only existed for some.

The majority of Australians are first- and second-generation migrants. Many of us live far from the sandy beaches and tree-lined avenues of the country’s cities, in places where green space is shrinking even as temperatures rise, and where traffic congestion poses a risk to children on the street. In the country Australia is today, scrolling is not the only obstacle to children’s capacity to play.

Despite these wider social challenges, there is broad agreement that children need protection, and that social media and tech companies must be more robustly regulated. Many parents are relieved the government is tackling the problem.

Australia’s willingness to take on some of the largest tech companies on the planet isn’t surprising. There is a strong culture here tied to taking precautions to reduce risk. This includes well-funded public health campaigns on everything from sunscreen to cycle helmets to learning how to swim. In 2012, the government defeated numerous legal challenges by big tobacco companies to pass a world-first law mandating the removal of branding colours and designs from cigarette packets. During the Covid pandemic, the country adopted some of the most restrictive and successful measures in the world.

In times of crisis, trust in government is high. Support soars when Australians perceive an external threat and the fight against big tech companies is seen in this light. It is no surprise then that 77% of Australians support the ban. And as a country we can afford the fight. Despite the nation’s small population, it operates with the kind of swagger that comes with wealth. Until the pandemic in 2020, Australia had experienced 29 consecutive years of economic growth. And while wages have stagnated and the cost of living is on the rise, it is still a wealthy place that can afford to pick fights it thinks it can win.

While there is strong support, the law has vocal critics who have called for tighter regulation of social media companies, rather than prohibitions on individuals. Advocacy groups working with children were dismayed that only one day was set aside for public consultations on the law, leaving no time for real consideration of how the ban might affect children’s ability to connect with each other. In the broader child rights sector, there have been pointed critiques about the hypocrisy of protecting children under 16 from online harms while doing nothing to address the fact that Australia has one of the lowest ages of criminal responsibility in the world. Children as young as 10 years old can be charged with crimes and sent to prison, and Indigenous children are over-imprisoned in this group, making up 70% of those in youth facilities.

Despite these criticisms, Australians have decided to make a start, in large part because as Australia’s esafety commissioner, Julie Inman Grant, has argued, there is no “fair fight” between children and social media algorithms. The country recognises that the playing field is stacked egregiously against kids. The ban – as imperfect as it is – gives parents and communities a starting point for limiting the reach and power of social media giants.

It’s already playing out in interesting ways. After school on the first day of the ban I told my son that even though his accounts hadn’t been deactivated, using them was now considered illegal. He smiled, put the phone down and went for a bike ride. When he got back he told me he knew the law was aimed at the companies, not the kids, and that no one was going to check. I looked at him sheepishly. “It’s OK,” he said. “I felt like a ride anyway.” I took the win.

• Sisonke Msimang is the author of Always Another Country: A Memoir of Exile and Home (2017) and The Resurrection of Winnie Mandela (2018)