By The Lulu
All i wanted was to post one selfie with my new hair style, ring light on, small pout, and caption:
“Feeling cute, might delete later.”
But the comments came like stones.
“Prostitute.” “Who paid for your wig?”
“Show us more, or you’re just noise.”
I laughed it off at first,
turned the phone face–down,
Na cruise. I said
But late at night,
My heart kept scrolling
even when my hands did not.
Another girl shared her poem, soft words on healing and hope. They said, “Shut up, you talk too much.” “Who asked you?” “Go back to the kitchen.”
One more dared to say, “I was abused.” But Screens turned to spears. “Na lie.” “Why are you just talking now?” “You want attention, abi?” They dragged her name from timeline to timeline, till her truth felt like a crime.
You see Digital violence. It’s not just jokes and banter. It’s revenge porn in a secret group chat, nude pictures shared like gossip and gist. It’s fake pages made just to mock her weight, her skin, her accent, her faith. It’s threats in her DM:
It’s that boy who screenshotted her chat, twisted her words for clout. It’s that ex who posts her photos with wicked captions, just to keep her mouth shut.
It’s blocking her out of the conversation, calling her “too emotional” when she’s just saying, “Respect me.”
We say, “It’s just online.” But tell me when my hands shake before I posts, when I delete my page, when I stop speaking up, Is that “just online”?
When I log out of my dreams because logging in feels like war, Is that “just online”?
Click, click. That’s a trigger too. Like a gun you don’t see but the wound is still deep.We clap for “women in tech,” “girls in STEM,” “ladies, use your voice,” but we let the comments kill them, one thread at a time.
So what do we do? Because pretending not to see is also taking sides.
Yes and I said what I said
Check your own hands. Are you the one forwarding that leaked video? Laughing in the group chat? Dropping “harmless” jokes that cut like knives? If yes, this is your cue: Stop. No rhyme, no rhythm, just stop.
Be a shield, not a sword. When you see hate, don’t scroll and ignore. Reply with truth: Report that page. Block that troll. Let silence never be your role.
Men, this part is for you: Your voice carries in rooms where hers is muted. Use it. Call out your guys when they turn group chats into crime scenes. Tell them, This isn’t banter. This is violence with data.
Because real men don’t need to break a woman to feel big. Real men don’t hide behind fake accounts to hit and run.
And to every woman, every girl who’s been wounded by a comment, a screenshot, a DM, a “joke”:You are not your worst picture. You are not their cruel words. You are not the lie they passed around for likes and laughs.
You are light. And light does not dim because darkness tweets.
Let’s build timelines that are safe, group chats that are kind, feeds where girls can breathe and not bleed.
No more “boys will be boys.” We choose “humans will be better.” No more “it’s just online.” We say, “Online is real life too.”
Today, we click report instead of retweets. We use our data to defend her, our words to mend her, our platforms to send her a simple message:
Girl, Your voice belongs here. Your face belongs here. Your dreams belong here.
This space? Our space? Will be safe for women and girls not someday but starting now.
