By Anonymous
When I recently saw the YouTube comments directed toward transgender homecoming queen, Cassidy Lynn Campbell, I was completely appalled at how horrifically mean people were being. A sixteen-year-old girl had just won homecoming queen, and YouTube users like “atheistcheck’m” were calling Cassidy Lynn “sick” and accusing “him” of winning solely because Cassidy Lynn’s classmates “felt sorry for the faggot.” Anonymous users were making cruel, transphobic comments and even going so far as to tell her to kill herself. In a heartbreaking YouTube video that has since been made private, a sobbing Cassidy Lynn addresses the comments, asking the simple question: why?
When I recently saw the YouTube comments directed toward transgender homecoming queen, Cassidy Lynn Campbell, I was completely appalled at how horrifically mean people were being. A sixteen-year-old girl had just won homecoming queen, and YouTube users like “atheistcheck’m” were calling Cassidy Lynn “sick” and accusing “him” of winning solely because Cassidy Lynn’s classmates “felt sorry for the faggot.” Anonymous users were making cruel, transphobic comments and even going so far as to tell her to kill herself. In a heartbreaking YouTube video that has since been made private, a sobbing Cassidy Lynn addresses the comments, asking the simple question: why?
I wondered about her question. Why are people so spiteful on the Internet? What compels someone to cyber bully? I thought to myself, what type of sick person would do such a thing? And then I remembered. I did such a thing. When I was in middle school, I was a cyber bully. I didn’t actually send anyone hateful messages on the Internet. But I created a public forum on which cyber bullying occurred, and I let the bullying play out. I didn’t try to stop it. I was a facilitator of cyber bullying, and that makes me just as guilty as the bullies themselves. |
In sixth grade, my friend and I thought it would be cool if we created our own website. We didn't really know what type of website we wanted to create, but it ended up being like a blog. We posted about makeup, cute puppies, what we thought was fashionable – essentially, our website was exactly what one would expect from a couple of twelve-year-olds. Our site was simplistic – I had designed it using a free program I downloaded from somewhere, and it was nothing more than a basic template, really. But I thought our website was special because it had a discussion board. I was so proud of myself for installing it without any help. Although I had used a relatively simple program which involved mostly just copying and pasting, I thought I was a genius, and at school I told as many people as I could about the discussion board.
After giving the URL to everyone in my grade, my friend and I sat back and watched the activity on our discussion board light up. People posted about everything on it – the results from the soccer game against a neighboring middle school, questions about homework, etc. I loved it. I loved being in charge of a “successful” discussion board. I felt important and powerful, like I was in charge of the school.
Then, one afternoon, someone posted saying that she had seen a girl in my grade throwing up in the bathroom after lunch. Within minutes, someone else commented, saying that she was glad the girl had puked, because she was “fat” and “needed to lose some weight.” After that, body-bashing comment after body-bashing comment flooded in.
After giving the URL to everyone in my grade, my friend and I sat back and watched the activity on our discussion board light up. People posted about everything on it – the results from the soccer game against a neighboring middle school, questions about homework, etc. I loved it. I loved being in charge of a “successful” discussion board. I felt important and powerful, like I was in charge of the school.
Then, one afternoon, someone posted saying that she had seen a girl in my grade throwing up in the bathroom after lunch. Within minutes, someone else commented, saying that she was glad the girl had puked, because she was “fat” and “needed to lose some weight.” After that, body-bashing comment after body-bashing comment flooded in.
My website was more popular than ever. Hits were piling up. Activity was high. My ego was being fed. I didn’t even care that the comments were atrocious - I was just so happy that everyone at school was on my website. I was so proud. The validation I had been seeking had finally arrived!
The next week, the target was a boy everyone accused of looking like a girl. Next was a student who had to drop out of advanced classes because her grades were too low. The bullying just kept going, and I still didn't disable the discussion board.
After a month, someone made a phone call to the principal. Parents had gotten involved. And, of course, everything was traced back to one person: me.
It wasn't until I was confronted about the discussion board that I realized the gravity of what I had done. I had become some sort of disgusting master-bully. I hated myself for letting everything go out of control, and I hated myself for putting my pride before other people’s feelings. I took down not only the discussion board, but the entire website.
Cyber bullying wasn't something I knew about at age 12. I learned about what cyber bullying was by unintentionally, naively, and selfishly becoming a part of it. I didn't mean to be a bully, but I was so caught up in the excitement and power, I disregarded how my website was actually affecting other people.
If I had been educated about cyber bullying, I would have been more wary about what was being posted. I would have been careful about placing my own desires first. I like to think that I would have been able to take a step back and assess what was really going on. In telling this story, I am not asking that you learn to sympathize with cyber bullies, nor am I excusing their (or my) behavior. Cyber bullying is completely unacceptable, no matter what the situation. But it is something that people need to be aware of. It is terrifyingly easy to get caught up in the world behind a computer screen. One click on a “send” button is all it takes to tear someone apart.
As I read more of the comments directed towards Cassidy Lynn, I noticed that not all of them were hateful. In fact, a fair number of them were written with sincerest kindness, praising Cassidy Lynn for staying true to herself and encouraging her to ignore the hateful messages. Relief washed over me. There were kind people on the Internet after all.
The next week, the target was a boy everyone accused of looking like a girl. Next was a student who had to drop out of advanced classes because her grades were too low. The bullying just kept going, and I still didn't disable the discussion board.
After a month, someone made a phone call to the principal. Parents had gotten involved. And, of course, everything was traced back to one person: me.
It wasn't until I was confronted about the discussion board that I realized the gravity of what I had done. I had become some sort of disgusting master-bully. I hated myself for letting everything go out of control, and I hated myself for putting my pride before other people’s feelings. I took down not only the discussion board, but the entire website.
Cyber bullying wasn't something I knew about at age 12. I learned about what cyber bullying was by unintentionally, naively, and selfishly becoming a part of it. I didn't mean to be a bully, but I was so caught up in the excitement and power, I disregarded how my website was actually affecting other people.
If I had been educated about cyber bullying, I would have been more wary about what was being posted. I would have been careful about placing my own desires first. I like to think that I would have been able to take a step back and assess what was really going on. In telling this story, I am not asking that you learn to sympathize with cyber bullies, nor am I excusing their (or my) behavior. Cyber bullying is completely unacceptable, no matter what the situation. But it is something that people need to be aware of. It is terrifyingly easy to get caught up in the world behind a computer screen. One click on a “send” button is all it takes to tear someone apart.
As I read more of the comments directed towards Cassidy Lynn, I noticed that not all of them were hateful. In fact, a fair number of them were written with sincerest kindness, praising Cassidy Lynn for staying true to herself and encouraging her to ignore the hateful messages. Relief washed over me. There were kind people on the Internet after all.