At first, I thought that if even 100 people besides me found it interesting, I’d be really happy. My only goal was to build a small community with similar interests. What surprised me the most is that now we’re nearly 20,000 strong. It’s an amazing feeling—but it also comes with something I wasn’t prepared for at the start: hate.
Most content creators face this sooner or later, but as a woman, it comes much more intensely, personally, and cruelly.
The worst part is that it’s rarely about me—it’s usually about my body, my voice, or even the right for me to exist. They don’t argue with what I say—they challenge how I dare to say it at all.
To be clear: I’ve never had a problem with someone adding extra info, clarifying something, or correcting a small mistake. Those comments always encourage me because they spark conversations about topics I care about.
But when someone just blurts out, “Who even cares about this?!” I’m left puzzled: maybe they don’t care, but why does it bother them that others do? Are there really people who think only what they find interesting should exist online?
And I’m not even talking about those comments. I mean the ones that try to humiliate, hypersexualize, or dehumanize. There are plenty of those, too. "Don’t you want to start an OnlyFans?" "Show us your panties instead!" "There are ten girls like you on every corner, but I wouldn’t pay for this." "What’s that ring in your nose for? You look like a pig." "Where do you even get your info? Think you’re so smart?" "Another stupid b_tch." "Who cares about this? You just want attention, don’t you?"
These are just a few recent comments targeting my appearance, personality, or questioning whether I could know anything just because I’m a woman.
Attacks Targeting Women
My friends—other female content creators—report similar experiences. It’s as if a woman’s presence alone is seen as a provocation. As if online, too, “we should stay in our place.”
The first comments hit me like a slap in the face, and even now my stomach tightens thinking about how these people sit next to us on the bus, pick up their kids from school, or stand behind us in line at the grocery store. And this is their reality.
These people don’t know me. It’s not what I say that bothers them—it’s that I speak at all. I believe this is why women face so much more hate. Because there’s still an unspoken rule: be quiet, smile, and don’t even think about claiming space anywhere, especially online.
For those sad, unhappy people who hate themselves and feel the need to attack when they see others moving forward, a confident woman—already seen as inferior—is an even bigger threat to their ego. So they try to drag her down into their misery.
How Do I Handle These Comments?
I won’t pretend that such comments never hurt. Imagine going about your day, and suddenly someone stands in front of you yelling that you’re a stupid b_tch. Most wouldn’t just carry on as if nothing happened. But realizing this helped me put hateful comments in perspective: their frustration isn’t my weakness—it’s a sign of their own helplessness.
I think of Stephen King’s clown, Pennywise. The character only seems scary as long as we fear him. That fear feeds him, makes him grow stronger, and lets him control more of our lives. But if we laugh in his face, if we say we’re not afraid—he shrinks. He becomes insignificant.
Commenters are like that. Their voice is loud only if we amplify it. Their power grows only if we pay attention. I’ve decided not to give them that power.
Of course, that doesn’t mean these words never get to me. Some days, the words cut deeper than I’d like. But I know now that anger isn’t about me. It’s about their lack of control. They can’t stop me. They can’t silence me. That’s why they’re angry. They have no tools to keep me from doing what I love—unless I hand them that power.
Creating content brings me joy. It’s a chance to share something with the world that excites me. And if someone can’t handle that, that’s their problem—not mine.
