I signed a petition the other day asking Twitter to delete accounts that threaten rape.
The same day, I received the ugliest hate mail I've ever received. It wasn't the first, nor the last I'm sure. And the sender really believed, I know, that some justice was being served in sharing their opinion of me. That my public statements were so deeply offensive that I needed to hear from them. I actually sensed the courage that sending it might have taken.
Now, my poison pen-pal was not threatening any sort of violence against me, sexual or otherwise. But threats and hate and disparagement and cruelty abound on the Internet. It's expected, like bugs on the windshield on a long road trip.
At times my inner snark comes up with the perfect retort: something deliciously cool and diminishing to the other person's intellect. But I almost always resist the "enter" button on that.
Once in a long while I type out what I believe will be a disarmingly honest explanation of how genuinely I care about getting things right and describing myself as I really am: just another human being doing my best. Those more vulnerable missives usually get a "delete" too.
On my bad days I wonder why I bother putting myself out there in public with my beliefs and causes. After all, who is doing the same for me? And who really needs my single and insignificant voice?
And it's true. I'm no one. I'm just one voice. I'm flawed and don't know everything. I want to be liked. I want to be appreciated. I want to make others go "Wow, that lady makes some sense." I want to be courageous and speak truth to power. I want my cause to matter and I want to empower others who feel the same.
But the other day I had an experience that truly scared me: I flinched. I started to make a decision to protect myself from criticism by not saying something. I felt like keeping my head down. Not out of humility, or self-doubt, or to protect someone else from the fallout: I was intimidated.
And that is what Internet trolling is about. It's not about the real issues, or our real opinions. It's not about anything but trying to shut people down. And it works. Most people crumple at having someone disagree with them on a Facebook comment. People become hurt, defensive, paranoid at someone publicly expressing disagreement. They go private: telling friends they've been attacked. They measure their words, they count the likes and they keep a tally of who supported them.
the other day I had an experience that truly scared me: I flinched
It works. Intimidation works. It keeps voices down and leaves the public discourse to the loudest, angriest, meanest ideas. It causes good intentions and good people to become bitter and withdrawn.
From rape threats to calling someone "uneducated" and "ignorant" it leads, more than anything, to silence.
We can slow the trolls down. We can report threats and anonymous hate, and we should. But the real target is not us, it's our voices, and that we can control. Silence is their goal, and we can refuse to be silent. We have control of and power to speak.
So, to the poison pens and the trolls and the frightened anonymous bullies:
I'm still here. Not going anywhere. I use my voice in public and in private in ways that encourage response and engagement. I respect others, even when we disagree.
What are you silencing of your own voice? What are you afraid of? Who shut YOU down?
Laura Collins Lyster-Mensh is an author and podcaster in the US. Learn more here.