Eleven (real name: Jane Ives) spent her childhood as a lab experiment. She was raised in isolation, subjected to psychological and physical abuse, and trained to use her psychokinetic abilities as a weapon. When we meet her in Season 1, she's barely verbal, doesn't understand basic social norms, and has never experienced normal childhood things like friendship, school, or even choosing her own clothes.

This backstory isn't just plot device—it's the foundation of her entire character arc. Kids watching see someone who's been through unimaginable trauma learning how to trust, how to love, and how to be a regular person. It's heavy stuff, but it's also why she's so compelling.

Unlike a lot of "chosen one" characters who remain emotionally distant, Eleven forms deep, complicated bonds. Her relationship with Mike is genuinely sweet but also age-appropriately awkward. Her friendship with Max starts rocky (jealousy, insecurity) before becoming one of the show's best dynamics. Her father figures—Hopper and later, her biological father—are complicated and imperfect.

These relationships aren't idealized. Eleven gets jealous. She lies. She makes mistakes. She struggles with boundaries. For kids watching, especially tweens and teens, this feels real in a way that a lot of YA content doesn't.

Every time Eleven uses her abilities, there's a cost. Nosebleeds. Exhaustion. In later seasons, she temporarily loses her powers altogether. The show doesn't treat her telekinesis as an unlimited superpower—it's a finite resource that drains her physically and emotionally.

This is actually a pretty sophisticated message about power and limits. Kids see that even someone with extraordinary abilities can't do everything, can't save everyone, and sometimes needs to rest and recover. It's worth talking about this with your kids if they're fans.

One of Eleven's biggest arcs is figuring out who she is beyond her powers and beyond what other people need her to be. In Season 2, she experiments with different looks and personas (that punk episode is... divisive). In Season 3, she explores fashion and femininity with Max. In Season 4, she's dealing with being "normal" at high school without her abilities.

This identity exploration—trying on different versions of yourself, figuring out what feels authentic—is incredibly relatable for kids, especially middle schoolers who are doing the exact same thing.

Eleven has killed people. Multiple people. Sometimes in self-defense, sometimes to protect others, but the show doesn't shy away from the fact that she's capable of extreme violence. She's snapped necks, crushed brains, and obliterated monsters.

What's interesting is how the show handles this. Eleven isn't portrayed as a violent person—she's someone who's been weaponized and is learning to navigate her own capacity for harm. She shows remorse. She tries to find non-violent solutions. But when pushed, she will absolutely destroy you.

For older kids watching (and this show is really best for 13+), this creates space for conversations about violence, self-defense, and the difference between having power and choosing to use it.

Eleven's journey is fundamentally about finding family. First with the boys who protect her. Then with Hopper, who becomes her adoptive father. Later with Joyce and the Byers family. She's building a chosen family from scratch, learning what love and belonging actually look like.

This theme hits hard for kids who might feel like outsiders, who struggle to fit in, or who are navigating their own complex family situations. Eleven's experience validates that family isn't just biology—it's who shows up for you.

The Eleven and Max dynamic in Seasons 3 and 4 is genuinely great. They shop together, have sleepovers, navigate boy drama, and support each other through real trauma. Max helps Eleven discover who she is outside of her relationship with Mike. Eleven helps Max process her grief and guilt.

These scenes matter because they show girls supporting girls, having fun together, and being more than just love interests or rivals. It's a nice counterbalance to the male-heavy ensemble.

Eleven makes bad decisions. She spies on Mike. She attacks someone in a jealous rage at the roller rink. She runs away when things get hard. She pushes people away when she's scared.

This imperfection is crucial. Kids need to see heroes who mess up, who let emotions cloud their judgment, who have to apologize and make things right. Eleven models that you can be powerful and important and still be flawed.

Millie Bobby Brown was 12 when Season 1 premiered. She's now in her twenties. Watching Eleven grow from a traumatized child into a young woman dealing with increasingly complex emotional landscapes feels authentic because we're literally watching the actor grow up too.

For kids who started watching in middle school and are now in high school or beyond, Eleven has grown alongside them. That creates a unique bond between character and audience.

On the surface, Eleven is different because of her powers. But metaphorically, she represents anyone who feels different, weird, or like they don't fit in. Kids who are neurodivergent, LGBTQ+, dealing with trauma, or just feeling like outsiders see themselves in her struggle to belong while staying true to who she is.

The show never "fixes" Eleven by making her normal. It celebrates her differences while also letting her experience normal teenage stuff. That balance is important.

Stranger Things has monsters, government conspiracies, '80s references, and ensemble cast dynamics. But at its heart, it's Eleven's story. Her trauma, her growth, her relationships, her choices—these are what drive the emotional stakes of the show.

When Eleven is in danger, we care because we've watched her fight so hard to build a life worth protecting. When she loses her powers, it matters because we understand what they mean to her identity. When she tells Mike she loves him, it lands because we've seen how hard it is for her to trust anyone.

Stranger Things is rated TV-14, but honestly, it skews older. The violence is intense, the horror elements are genuinely scary, and the themes—trauma, abuse, death, government experimentation—are heavy.

For kids under 13: This is probably too much. The jump scares, body horror, and violence are significant. Eleven's backstory involves child abuse that's shown on screen.

For 13-15 year olds: This is the sweet spot if your kid can handle horror. The themes are age-appropriate for teens, and Eleven's emotional journey will resonate. That said, watch with them or at least be available to process what they're seeing.

For 16+: They can probably handle it, but the show still has moments that warrant conversation—about trauma, about power, about relationships.

If you're wondering whether your specific kid is ready, check out our full Stranger Things parent guide for a detailed breakdown by season.

The show takes trauma seriously. Eleven's abuse isn't played for shock value—it's treated as the defining experience of her life, and the show explores how she heals (and struggles to heal) over multiple seasons. If your kid has experienced trauma, this could be triggering or it could be validating. Know your child.

The romance is age-appropriate. Mike and Eleven's relationship is sweet and awkward in the way middle school relationships are. There's kissing but nothing beyond that. It's actually a pretty healthy portrayal of young love—they communicate (eventually), they support each other, and they mess up and apologize.

There are positive adult figures. Hopper, Joyce, and later Murray all step up to protect and guide these kids. The adults aren't perfect, but they're present, which is nice to see in a YA show.

The friend group is the real heart. Yes, Eleven is central, but the show is really about this group of misfits who protect each other. It's a nice model of friendship that goes beyond surface-level loyalty.

Eleven resonates with young viewers because she's powerful but vulnerable, different but relatable, traumatized but healing. She's figuring out who she is in a world that keeps trying to define her by what she can do rather than who she is.

If your kid loves Eleven, that's a window into what they're processing in their own lives—questions about identity, belonging, power, and what it means to be different. Use it as a conversation starter. Ask them what they like about her character. Ask them if they relate to feeling like an outsider or struggling to fit in.

And if they want to dress up as Eleven for Halloween with the blonde wig and the Eggo box? Let them. She's a pretty great hero to look up to.

Want to explore more shows with complex female leads? Check out our guide to shows like Stranger Things or strong female characters in YA media.