Content Warning: Brief mention of thoughts of self-harm.
What happened?
Robin had recently come out as nonbinary at school, asking friends and teachers to use they/them pronouns for them. While some people were supportive and did so without question, others made a stink about it. They hated that; at the same time, they were expecting it. They wished everyone could be supportive, but they appreciated the effort many of their peers and teachers put in to make them feel welcome. They also put “they/them” in their bio on TikTok, where they had a few dozen followers, mostly classmates and their family. They would get the occasional comment from annoying people calling them a snowflake, but things were calm for the most part.
One night, annoyed by an ignorant post they saw about pronouns, they filmed a TikTok about how they/them pronouns work for a single person to spread awareness, explaining the grammar around them. Initially, just a few people saw it, and commented positive things, thanking Robin for making an educational video. Satisfied with their post and done with all their work for the day, they went to sleep.
When Robin woke up and checked their phone, they were startled. Thousands of people had seen their TikTok, more viewers than they’d ever had before. They were excited at first. They had hoped this educated people, but when they opened the app to check the comments, a pit fell in their stomach.
There was a flood of hate. Every other comment was a mockery. Robin scrolled and scrolled, reading each one. The snowflake comments were only the start. People were calling them entitled, talking again and again about biological sex, claiming there were only two genders, and even throwing slurs around.
Robin felt tears in their eyes. When they left their room to get breakfast, they could hardly eat. They checked their phone constantly throughout the school day, struggling to pay any attention in class and stress crying when they had to take a quiz. By the time they returned home, they were shaking, shutting themself in their room and not leaving for hours. They looked over the hate comments again, checking over the commenters’ profiles. Some were just homophobic, transphobic trolls, but the part that hurt them was that several stated they were trans or gay in their bios or recent videos. Members of their own community had invalidated them. They felt tense, and stared at their bathroom door, with worrying thoughts passing through their mind: they thought about harming themselves.
What did they do?
Startled by their thoughts, Robin reached for their phone again — not to check TikTok, but to text their sister Maddie. Can we call? She was 6 years older than them, in college now, and had always offered her guidance and support through their coming out process. They thought she was probably busy, but a few minutes after they texted her, while they paced around nervously to get their energy out, she called them.
“Hey Robin. What’s going on?”
They sat down on their bed and spilled everything. The slew of hate comments, more than they’d ever seen before; being distant and stressed all day; even thinking of something bad that they hadn’t done in weeks.
“Oh, jeez. Oh jeez.” Maddie sighed. “I’m sorry. That sucks so hard. Can you take a second to breathe for me?”
Robin took a few deep breaths. In through their nose for 1, 2, 3, 4 seconds, then holding their breath for 4 seconds, and breathe slowly out of their mouth for 4 seconds. They did this a few times.
“Thank you. Do you feel a little better?”
“Yeah,” they replied. “Thanks.”
“Of course. I know this might be hard, but can we take a break from TikTok for a few hours?”
They couldn’t help but frown. “I, um… maybe.”
“There’s some fun stuff on there, I know. The cat videos are my favorite, and also the friends you get to make on there, all that.” She chuckled. “But it helps to step away for a little bit and just, you know, cool down. If you stay on there you’re gonna just be thinking about all those comments. You’ll just go back over and read them all again.”
They thought this over for a bit. “I could draw.”
Her voice became more cheerful. “You could draw! Draw something. Do whatever.” She paused. “And, um, if you start thinking that way again, there are helplines. And that word isn’t a lie. They really do help. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“Maybe talking to a therapist about this would be helpful too. I try my best, but I’m not an expert. Um, and my therapist at school’s been helping me a lot.”
They nodded, then realized she couldn’t see them nod. “Ok.”
“Ok. Thank you. I don’t have another class for an hour. Want me to stay on the line?”
Robin chatted with their sister until she had to leave. They made a sketch page of their favorite character afterward, calmly, and by the time dinner came, they had a bit of an appetite again. By the time they returned to TikTok, a day or two later, the flood of hate had slowed down. They couldn’t help but notice how many positive, supportive videos about trans and nonbinary people they scrolled through that day.
Written by Adrian Wood
Narration by A Deomano
Want to try the coping skills that Robin used?
Balancing/Limiting social media use
Getting help in a crisis video
Want help now? There are free and confidential hotlines available 24/7. Call/text the National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988 or contact the Trevor Project, a crisis hotline specifically for LGBTQ youth, by calling 1-866-488-7386 or texting START to 678-678.