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When I was in middle school I created a secret identity for myself. Her name was Alexandra Ellen (we shared initials), and she was going to write notes to kids in the school who looked like they needed cheering up-- notes that told them someone else had noticed their good qualities, that someone else believed in them, was cheering them on, even if this someone else was someone named Alexandra Ellen who didn't exist. I hoped she'd become a movement. I even confided in another girl whom I thought would "get" it even though we were little more than friendly acquaintances at the time (we actually became better friends later), and she DID, to my relief, get it, enthusiastically offering to help out. She even made up her own alias, Lila Denise, which it's funny I remember that after all these years.
Because unfortunately I never got up the courage to START sending even-technically-anonymous notes to people, so the movement fell flat before it began.
Decades later I got involved in Darcy's Lycoris Letters project, where I, kind of, made up for that failure. Now I wasn't writing to kids I'd been quietly observing in school for years. All I had was a name, an address, and a question that person wanted to ask the Universe (with, usually, a little bit of background info). And whatever experience and/or knowledge of human nature I happened to possess myself. But the idea was still the same: you may not know me, but I see you, and I care, and I want you to feel a little bit better about life.
It was awesome. The questions eventually ran out, but my desire to answer them didn't. I went back to writing fan letters and friend letters and Internet comments. I like Internet comments. I like being able to tell people that the post of theirs that I just read in passing is awesome. I like responding to sad tweets with tweets of love. It helps, a little, to make things feel right.
The other day The Mary Sue posted an article about a woman who'd discovered her husband was secretly a nasty Internet troll. I won't link directly to the article because this post is supposed to be spreading HAPPINESS. But I sent the link to my husband to say, "YOU'RE not secretly like this, are you?" He wrote back, "whats a troll. well i mean I know what the monster troll is but what is a internet troll?" (see, you have to admit his email grammar IS suspicious*). "Someone who goes out of their way to harass complete strangers online," I explained. "Like, not just disagreeing, but making personal hateful comments and basically saying things anybody with half a conscience would never say to somebody's face, but because it's online they justify it by the relative anonymity of everyone." His reply: "ohh no I am defintly not an internet troll... I live to say that type of stuff to peoples face!" Which is alibi if I ever saw one. But anyway. This is setting up the next paragraph eventually.
Co-Lycoris writer Cat, a psych major with a passion for social justice, was always on the lookout for ways people could reach out in the darkness, and found a site called Need to Tell Someone, where people can just anonymously post stuff they need to get off their chest. But people can also anonymously respond to each post. And it DOES attract a lot of trolls, but it attracts some genuinely good, supportive responses, too. Every so often I drop by there to see if there's anything I can respond to (and occasionally get my OWN anonymous garbage off my chest). It's like an instant, mini, totally anonymous Lycoris letter. Many of the people who post there are apparently quite young. I feel a rush knowing I can give an accepting voice of experience to these kids in pain.
This morning, typing away in those anonymous comments, I caught myself feeling that rush. "AMY!" I needled myself. "Do you realize what you are? You're an ANTI-Troll! Saying supportive things anonymously on the Internet gives you a rush!"
Of course I've just outed myself here, which kind of ruins it. It's no longer quite so anonymous. Well, it is, but I'm not presenting myself un-anonymously as someone different.
But I have a good reason for outing myself. I need to recruit Lila Denises. I can't respond to EVERYONE on the Internet by myself! But I certainly can't be the ONLY Anti-Troll on the Internet. If it's so easy to say hateful things with the anonymity of the Internet to hide you, why shouldn't it be just as easy to say caring, helpful, loving things this way? I KNOW there's more love in the world than there is hate. So why do we let hate dominate us? Why don't more of us let the anonymity of the Internet give us the bravery to be kind?
Look, I admit I still don't always have the bravery to be kind in real life. But yay, anonymity of the Internet! Every little bit is something.
---
*I'm joking. He's dyslexic, actually. Which is not to say that Internet Trolls can't genuinely be dyslexic either. ;)
Because unfortunately I never got up the courage to START sending even-technically-anonymous notes to people, so the movement fell flat before it began.
Decades later I got involved in Darcy's Lycoris Letters project, where I, kind of, made up for that failure. Now I wasn't writing to kids I'd been quietly observing in school for years. All I had was a name, an address, and a question that person wanted to ask the Universe (with, usually, a little bit of background info). And whatever experience and/or knowledge of human nature I happened to possess myself. But the idea was still the same: you may not know me, but I see you, and I care, and I want you to feel a little bit better about life.
It was awesome. The questions eventually ran out, but my desire to answer them didn't. I went back to writing fan letters and friend letters and Internet comments. I like Internet comments. I like being able to tell people that the post of theirs that I just read in passing is awesome. I like responding to sad tweets with tweets of love. It helps, a little, to make things feel right.
The other day The Mary Sue posted an article about a woman who'd discovered her husband was secretly a nasty Internet troll. I won't link directly to the article because this post is supposed to be spreading HAPPINESS. But I sent the link to my husband to say, "YOU'RE not secretly like this, are you?" He wrote back, "whats a troll. well i mean I know what the monster troll is but what is a internet troll?" (see, you have to admit his email grammar IS suspicious*). "Someone who goes out of their way to harass complete strangers online," I explained. "Like, not just disagreeing, but making personal hateful comments and basically saying things anybody with half a conscience would never say to somebody's face, but because it's online they justify it by the relative anonymity of everyone." His reply: "ohh no I am defintly not an internet troll... I live to say that type of stuff to peoples face!" Which is alibi if I ever saw one. But anyway. This is setting up the next paragraph eventually.
Co-Lycoris writer Cat, a psych major with a passion for social justice, was always on the lookout for ways people could reach out in the darkness, and found a site called Need to Tell Someone, where people can just anonymously post stuff they need to get off their chest. But people can also anonymously respond to each post. And it DOES attract a lot of trolls, but it attracts some genuinely good, supportive responses, too. Every so often I drop by there to see if there's anything I can respond to (and occasionally get my OWN anonymous garbage off my chest). It's like an instant, mini, totally anonymous Lycoris letter. Many of the people who post there are apparently quite young. I feel a rush knowing I can give an accepting voice of experience to these kids in pain.
This morning, typing away in those anonymous comments, I caught myself feeling that rush. "AMY!" I needled myself. "Do you realize what you are? You're an ANTI-Troll! Saying supportive things anonymously on the Internet gives you a rush!"
Of course I've just outed myself here, which kind of ruins it. It's no longer quite so anonymous. Well, it is, but I'm not presenting myself un-anonymously as someone different.
But I have a good reason for outing myself. I need to recruit Lila Denises. I can't respond to EVERYONE on the Internet by myself! But I certainly can't be the ONLY Anti-Troll on the Internet. If it's so easy to say hateful things with the anonymity of the Internet to hide you, why shouldn't it be just as easy to say caring, helpful, loving things this way? I KNOW there's more love in the world than there is hate. So why do we let hate dominate us? Why don't more of us let the anonymity of the Internet give us the bravery to be kind?
Look, I admit I still don't always have the bravery to be kind in real life. But yay, anonymity of the Internet! Every little bit is something.
---
*I'm joking. He's dyslexic, actually. Which is not to say that Internet Trolls can't genuinely be dyslexic either. ;)
