TAKES A TROLL TO KNOW A TROLL

If you have a public account on social media, chances are, you’ve encountered a troll or ten. A huge following is not a requirement to be on the receiving end of their vitriol; trolls liberally dish out their regurgitated opinions, with more speed and enthusiasm than a billionaire’s accountant sending taxable dollars offshore. However, despite them earning a (deserved) bad reputation, they have, ironically, been an integral part of my own healing journey. By Cara MacB As an elder millennial, born in the mid-80s, online spaces and communities weren’t things I had access to until the back end of my teens. Had social media been a thing during my adolescence, I’m quite certain I would have engaged in trolling behaviours. Being raised in an abusive home, not only was I miserable and full of suppressed rage, I had learned from the master how to dish out insults that strike your very soul… I was a real live troll, a bully. Although, young me didn’t understand that at the time. Bullies, in my mind, were people who launched relentless attacks on their peers, every day, for no apparent reason other than to relieve their boredom. I was far more discerning; spitting out venom only when I felt threatened. I couldn’t possibly be a bully, because I always had that justification in my corner. You hurt me, I hurt you back (with interest) that’s how it works, right? So, how does this tie into online trolling?

When it first came on my radar, I began noticing similarities between their comments, and the tools I had employed when retaliating as a youngster. I was reading things that sounded so familiar, scathing words I was sure had come out of my mouth at one time or another. I also clocked these were the same words that, when levelled against me, sent my own confidence and self-esteem down to rock bottom. I finally made the connection that this is exactly why I used them. Because I knew they worked. Being called fat, ugly, stupid, gay (and nastier variations of) all poked at my deep fear of being unlovable. And I knew other people feared this too. The 90s/00s society solidified this fear (and we’ve still got a long way to go in the 2020s). The ostracisation of anyone who didn’t perfectly conform to white cis/heteronormative culture and Eurocentric beauty standards was obvious. Every demographic, except for the slim, lightskinned, non-disabled cis hets, were either invisible in media or set up as spectacles to

be mocked. The message was clear - if you are, or associate with, anyone outside of that narrow margin of what’s acceptable, you’re setting yourself up for ridicule and rejection. And a move straight out of the Trolls, Bullies and Bigots playbook, is to use the fear of that rejection to wound. “Hey, you, everyone hates you because - *insert perceived flaw / act of non-conformity here____*”

How do you protect yourself against that? How do you, as a person in their formative years, adapt to stay safe? Well, my tactic, was to abandon all sense of self and curate a personality I felt was suitable for consumption. Part of that personality involved chiming in like a parrot with Daily Fail-esque talking points. Until my mid-twenties, I was like an automated machine. Every decision, every thought and feeling, was filtered through a lens. A lens based on the criteria I’d been fed thus far, on what was the correct, and incorrect, way to live. What would render me loveable, and what would not? The problem was, that the data set was seriously corrupted. When I moved out of home (and away from my abuser’s influence) everything I processed was no longer censored. I got to review it all, by myself. I was able to witness and experience things and ascertain how I truly felt about them, uninterrupted. No one was interjecting with how I should think and feel. No one chastised me heavily when my view didn’t align with theirs. I went from judging my every move (and those of everyone around me) harshly, to wondering why I ever did that in the first place. I recognised that the initial reactionary thoughts were from the old, corrupt data file, and I needed to ditch that to input my own new data. Opinions appeared on the screen in my head, and I’d swipe left to consign them to the discard pile immediately. “Why is someone who looks like that, wearing a short skirt?!” was satisfyingly flicked away, like a crusty bogey that finally leaves your finger. Swiftly replaced by: “Why the f*** do I care what a stranger is wearing?? If they looked in the mirror and decided that was a good outfit for the day, who the heck am I (who is anyone) to declare that wrong?” The more I practised this, the more utterly bizarre my entire human experience up to this point looked. I felt like a human version of Pavlov’s dog - taught to associate certain characteristics with disgust and unworthiness. I committed to my retraining — my reparenting — and the more I swiped left on those old thought patterns, the more hospitable my headspace became. Most notably, I felt kinder towards others. I didn’t fully comprehend how isolating conformity is. No wonder I’d never been able to form a friendship or relationship I felt truly safe in. I was far too judgemental for that, and I believed everyone else viewed me with the same level of scrutiny. I felt like I was infiltrating enemy territory, with every interaction. Desperate not to get caught out. Everything felt so tenuous, all the time. As such, I spent so much energy trying to reach “infallible human” status, that there was no room left for any authenticity. The more I worried about being exposed as a fraud, the more fraudulent I became.

And that’s my theory on trolls, and why we can dismiss their comments. (Ok, #NotAllTrolls some people are just committed to arseholery and are the aforementioned bullies who are simply bored). Generally though, I see them as people lashing out to affirm and justify their own decision to adhere to arbitrary societal norms. If they can’t point to a “wrong” how can they be right? So they have no choice but to perpetuate tropes and harmful stereotypes, otherwise all their effort to appear better than others has been for nothing. Their comments are not for us to internalise. They are motivational post-it note reminders for themselves. Stay on the treadmill! Do not be tempted to deviate from the path of conformity with the heretics! As we approach the end of the year, and all the “New year, new you!” inspirational business, let us wish the trolls a very merry fuck you but, also, an enlightening new year.