Twitter Mobs: Just Another Day In TERFLand
Previous StoryNext StoryI knew something was up when I woke up to 19 notifications.
The Woke won’t wait for coffee!
They had me right – A smallish account with only so much energy to defend myself. But they just really hated my Cyberpunk article!
After the original poster proclaimed it was “NOT ok to insult anyone because of their opinion,” a group of them wasted no time dogpiling me to tell me why my opinion meant I needed to die.
Hardly bothering with ‘transphobe,’ they labeled me ‘vile,’ ‘disgusting,’ toxic,’ (of course!) and even abusive. My writing was referred to as “a pile of dog shit.” I was told to take ‘feminist’ out of my bio. And called a bigot and a fascist, for good measure.
The tortured reasoning behind TWAM = Fascist could fill its own post. Most prominently displayed, however, was the classic actual fascist crosstalk of Enemies being both Big&Bad and Sad&Pathetic.
I’m a bigoted fascist spreading lies that get people murdered. And a loser who no one will defend.
It’s true – Only a handful of people came to back me up. After months of reaching out and jumping in, this did sting a little.
My friends will be here any minute… Really!
The real problem was I was sick as a dog, chasing my toddler around the house between trips to the bathroom.
I got frustrated a few times, but I think I held my own for the most part.
And considering the quiet from feminist Twitter – with the fact that even my web developer is scratching his head wondering where the numbers are – I have to wonder how they found me at all!
There were three main skirmishes in the battle.
#1 insisted misgendering the author of the Cyberpunk 2077 review meant I wasn’t a feminist. Wasn’t interested when I pointed out the burden of proof lay with the person claiming something extraordinary.
Then there were the two furries – A purple-haired wolf and a grayscale… puppy, I think – First the wolf pounced with insults and tumbled quickly on to threats. When one intrepid soldier brought up biology, he became fixated on cows, “Cow tastes good when properly cooked … You’d make a good roast, maybe a casserole.”
After he called me a Nazi, I reminded him that probably meant he’d lost the argument.
His friend Grayscale informed me this was “a common misinterpretation of something called Godwin’s Law.”
Mansplain much? Now let me define ‘glib’ for you.
Like seeds in the breeze, the minutes of my life… blow back in my face!
The third volley came from a Canadian transwoman. Most confusing of all, this person was very conversational while telling me to go fuck myself.
When I shared a different transwoman’s article I had featured because she made a good point, they actually went and read it!
And hated it, of course. But I gotta respect doing your homework!
After swapping swings for about a day, I was confused why we were talking if they hated me so much.
“I never said I wanted to talk to you!”
I guess you got me there, but you were the one who struck up this conversation.
Overall, not the most fun ever – 2/10, would not recommend. I prefer being mobbed on Facebook – That drives more views to the blog.
I guess Twitter mobs aren’t interested in supplemental reading (Except you, Canada, love you babe!) Despite making connections and learning a lot, I’m not sure what to make of it all at the moment.
It’s been a demoralizing few weeks, stair-stepping setbacks carved into my flat numbers. The sick was a weird sick, too, where I just can’t get myself to eat or wake the fuck up.
Thursday the sick and the mob both dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared.
None of this changes anything, of course. Except maybe how much time I spend on Twitter.
Men still can’t decide they’re women. The law saying otherwise doesn’t change how humans make more humans.
But the best part is that, unfortunately for them, I don’t do this for attention. I don’t do this to express hatred. I’m aware that I’m not famous or important.
When you finally find the person who is going to give you everything you want in life
I do this for my own mental health. Because sometimes, the only way I can properly process some bit of insanity, and stop it rattling around my brain knocking things over, is to write it out.
Sometimes they make the blog, if I don’t see anyone else hitting the same angle.
It’s sublime when it reaches someone, but I write for myself.
…And any other magpie minds out there prone to picking up the shiny things along the edge of the path. This week’s regular post waits for pictures and editing.
Costume historian Bernadette Banner tells us how pockets reveal the state of women’s liberation. Because knowing the past lets us understand the present, and plan the future.
Once all these people are gone, you're just left with yourself. To thine own self be true. There's nothing wrong with your reasoning. It's not easy to stand against the tide. Brava! Have courage.
Thank you for stopping by! Standing strong is about all we can do sometimes...