Finding Softness When Confronted with Hatred

Rage. Rage was what I felt when I read it. I read it again. 

I’d rather kill myself then [sic] drive five hours for groceries. What a **** life. 

Then I read the comment out loud to C as he made coffee. He laughed – “Well that wouldn’t work out too well for him, would it? He’d be dead before he could even get groceries.” He was making light of it, pointing out the obvious grammatical error in this comment. But I was focused on its substance. 

While I don’t get many negative comments, I am no stranger to them. It comes with the territory, I suppose. That territory being the sharing of one’s life online. It’s vulnerable and you open yourself up to criticism, sometimes even hatred. 

Last week, just a few days ahead of Christmas, I posted a timelapse that showed the first 75-kilometre portion of our drive to Whitehorse. It was an innocuous post. Nothing divisive, controversial, or alarming. Or so I thought. The reel did well. 55,000 likes, 1.6 million views and counting. The comments rolled in. Many comments one would expect: expressions of amazement and wonder and curiosity. 

Then the negative comments began.

Waste of life.

Awful.

Who would live in this **** NTY.

 How the**** is it incredible…Stop lying to yourself, nutcase.

No one cares, move to a normal city.

I’d rather live in North Korea and I’m not joking.

And there were more. Many, many more.   

When I read the first and even the second and third comments, I felt sad and confused. I wondered how it was that some people weren’t able to see the beauty of this place or appreciate that others might see the beauty and want a life here. But the comments kept coming and as they did, I felt increasingly angry. I’m not proud to admit it, but the urge to write paragraphs-long responses riddled with profanities, like those I was reading, was strong. But I refrained. Well, that is, apart from a few instances wherein I mustered any strength and kindness that remained after reading these hate-filled comments and gave the commenter a stern but kind piece of my mind. 

C is of the opinion that I should ignore these comments. Perhaps he’s right. Certainly, I’m much better equipped to deal with them than I was a few years ago when my account first experienced growth. At that time, a single negative comment could crush me. I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. It hurt.

But now I’m hardened. Now I realise this is a reality. A sad part of sharing content online. And this week, since receiving a deluge of such comments and messages, I’ve been forced to confront my feelings around this, and I’ve asked myself if being hardened to this is really such a good thing. 

When I was in my teens, emotional regulation was a serious challenge. Perhaps a bit like many but maybe it was also exacerbated by severe anxiety. I wasn’t always a nice person then. I mean, overall, I think I was nice to my friends and to the customers at my work and to my grandparents. But to the people closest to me – my brothers and my parents –I could be a downright terror. I was fueled by teen angst, self-loathing, existential dread, a longing to fit in, and, let’s be real, hormones. Although I don’t recall exactly what kinds of awful things I might have said, I do know that I could be very mean.

I’ve been thinking about this over the past week. Wondering what lay behind my own anger and what lies behind the broader ire we see disseminated online. As a teen, my ability to be mean was the result of my own internal struggles. I lashed out to divert attention from myself to something else. Misery likes company, or something like that. Is this same kind of thing what perpetuates online viciousness? 

Most of us can have mean or critical or judgemental or harsh opinions. But I think most of us don’t share these and recognize that their origin is an inner flaw. Insecurity or fear or general unhappiness. If this is the case, trolling must be ignored and forgiven as a symptom of a person’s larger issues. Or is it that internet platforms have normalized vitriol? And does this spewing of negative thoughts give rise to more negative thoughts?

When I read a comment that is completely and utterly hate-filled – a comment that suggests I’d be better off dead than living where I do – I truly feel despair about humanity. And the despair I feel is worsened because I fear that I’m contributing to this negativity. Perhaps ‘contributing’ is an overstatement. I don’t participate in ‘trolling’, but like many people, I sometimes find myself feeding off this negativity. Watching showdowns happen in the comments with a perverse voyeurism, formulating opinions about people based on a string of words and not much more.

I don’t know if there is an answer or a solution to all of this. But I do know that the hateful comments I receive online are minimal when compared to the positive feedback. And I also realise that by producing content publicly available for all to consume, I’m opening the door to criticism. I’m fine with that. It’s a form of communication. But I do wish it was that: communication. Which means listening and curiosity and empathy and a recognition that your words, even as mine and as everyone’s, have an impact. I’m not asking people to agree with me, not at all. I’m just asking that they be respectful.

C cautions me not to respond to negative comments, but, sometimes, I do. And when I do, I try to incite curiosity in the commenter. Typically, their opinion seems to be based on a complete lack of knowledge and a disinterest in this way of life. I don’t expect to change people, but I do hope that my response might give pause for thought. 

And I, too, need to be curious and open-minded. My reaction to hateful messages can be so overwhelming that I forget to wonder about the circumstances that might cause someone to leave a hateful comment. Because, although a hateful comment might be posted on a whim without much thought, it’s more likely that these commenters are fueled by self-doubt, insecurities, and sadness, a bit like I was when I was particularly mean to my family members, who are, in fact, my favourite people in the world.

For now, the only thing I can do in response to these feelings is to work on myself. To practice compassion and empathy for myself and for others. I’m guessing that if I’m at peace with myself, I’ll be able to read these comments with a certain softness in my heart.