On being trolled
And I thought the internet could no longer shock me.
Just when I thought I was immune to vulgar social media comments, someone managed to truly shock me.
This is no small feat.
I am a woman on the internet who has an opinion on cars. Even worse, sometimes I get paid to write those opinions. To certain people, this is an unacceptable display of liberalism – I’ve experienced all manner of personal attacks online as a result.
Usually I’ll laugh them off or, even better, goad the commenter into a back-and-forth conversation. This wastes their time and improves the engagement on my reels, helping them perform better in the algorithm.
Sure, exploiting the internet’s toxicity to get views on silly little car videos is probably nudging the planet infinitesimally closer to destruction. At the very least, it’s not helping matters. But who am I to question the algorithm? Surely it’s better to ride the wave than fight it, even if that wave is actually an enormous tsunami that will inevitably drown us all? It’s hard to say, really.
But my laissez faire attitude to social media was tested by an incredibly crude comment on a video I posted on Instagram. In the minute-long reel, I had a quick conversation about a hotted-up car with its owner while at Summernats. It was totally inoffensive.
In reply, I got the following comment from an anonymous stranger: “I bet this chick has a hairy bumhole”.
I hate this comment. I hate it on a visceral level. It’s gross, weird, and embarrassing. But the worst thing about it, is that it’s so abhorrent and so left-of-field, it’s a little bit funny.
It also left me – the innocent victim – with no counter manoeuvre.
I couldn’t reply with a defensive or aggressive comment because that is, I think, what someone with a hairy bumhole would do. For the same reason, I struggled to craft a flippant or funny reply.
Without moving a single piece on the chessboard, I was in checkmate. Defeated by some douchebag on the internet. So I did the digital equivalent of chucking a tantrum by deleting the comment and blocking the person who’d posted it.
This was a retreat, absolutely. But I was dealing with a textbook example of an internet troll. Their profile had no followers, and only existed to write the most appalling things imaginable on a seemingly random assortment of videos. The comments they wrote were – all of them – sexist, racist, bullying and derogatory.
Of course, this reflects most poorly on the person behind the account. But does it matter? A chimp throwing its faeces at strangers may have no dignity, but that’s of little consolation when you’re covered in monkey shit.
But honestly, what should I have expected dabbling in the appalling human soup that is social media?
In truth, I have an ideological opposition to short-form videos and their brain-rotting qualities. I hate the type of discourse it encourages, and the manner in which they’re delivered. I myself have become so addicted to Instagram reels that I bought a $100 device which limits my access to some apps.
The absurdity of buying something to make my wildly expensive phone less functional is absolutely not lost on me.
But even given all of the above, I’ve been using my strictly rationed time on Instagram to post reels to feed other people’s addiction. The reward? The heady dopamine rush of new followers and that crude bumhole comment. A fitting prize if ever there was one.
Of course social media is weird and gross – we already knew that to be the case. Things started to go downhill on the internet almost the moment we were able to talk to one another anonymously.
It’s just that participation in this circus didn’t always feel so compulsory. These days your ability to be relevant is directly tied to your online visibility.
On one hand, the democratisation of fame is a good thing. It’s never been easier to find an audience – the fact you’re reading my newsletter now shows that to be true. I am a grateful beneficiary of these new ways of distributing information.
But on the other hand, one’s audience has never been so close. While I welcome many of the people this has brought into my sphere, not every visitation is a pleasant one.
It’s the cheapest and saddest form of heckling. On a good day you can feel slightly uplifted by the positive comments relating to an article you have created and shared with the world. But there is always the risk that some sad little toad will hurl shit like this in response. It’s a reflection on them not you. Delete and block them.