Got Social Media Trolls? Here's How to Punch Back

Diplomacy, blah blah blah. Sometimes you just need to push someone down the virtual stairs.

People often tell me that I have a soft heart. I cringe when they say that because I suspect it’s true. First of all, that’s an uncomfortable amount of transparency. What gave it away? How can they tell that underneath my misanthropic, curmudgeonly, witheringly sarcastic exterior lurks a human marshmallow?

Here is a short but by no means inclusive list of my marshmallowy triggers: injustices perpetrated against people and animals, cruelty or suffering of any sort, anyone suffering tragic loss, moments of transcendent tenderness and/or unexpected kindness, people bullying friends of mine, and animals dying.

Recently—and I can’t believe I’m actually copping to this—I watched one of those awful franchise films, Jurassic Something-or-the-other, expressly to see the dinosaurs. I’m a nerd. Nerds love dinosaurs. I love them enough to suffer through an appallingly wooden performance by midwestern beefcake-du-jour Chris Pine and that dreadful Bryce Dallas Howard woman, who is Ron Howard’s daughter, for heaven’s sake, no nepotism there. Both of them are so aggressively attractive and “likable”, they make my fillings ache. I would have vastly preferred to see Leslie Jones in that role—someone, anyone, who doesn’t have all the personality of a Golden Corral salad bar.

But that’s not what I’m here to confess.

To my shame and horror, I actually ugly cried when a CGI apatosaurus was left behind on a burning island, gazing forlornly at the departing ship, and then again when a T-Rex chomped into a gentle, herbivorous ankylosaurus. I’m pretty sure that disqualifies me from ever again showing my face in public. But I was getting flashback vibes to Dumbo being torn away from his mother, Bambi’s mother dying from a hunter’s bullet, and Old Yeller getting shot in the face. Aren’t these supposed to be kids’ movies? Who on earth hates kids that much?

Over the years, thank goodness, I have learned to protect my soft, squishy underbelly. John is the only one who really gets to see it. Why he still loves me after scandalous displays like the one I just described is a mystery.

My astrologist friend says that it’s my Scorpio Rising that ultimately saved me from completely dissolving into a messy amorphous blob. I’m certainly not qualified to weigh in on astrology, but from what I gather, Scorpio Rising people are deep-feeling, sure, but they can sting. With the advent of social media and the swarm of trolls that were unleashed upon all of us, I have learned how to make use of that sting on behalf of myself and others.

During the 2016 election, I must have burned upward of 75-100 roaches trolls off my Facebook wall. Things were downright lively there for a while. My own brother called one night to gently chide me. “Damn, sis, some of the things you say …”

But there are all those triggers, see: bullying, unfairness, not to mention heaping mounds of willful ignorance. With your standard-issue troll, I don’t go for the jugular right away. I bait them. I chum the waters. Even when they turn vicious (and the real ones always do), I first do a gut check before diving in. Do I have the energy for this? Much of the time, I don’t, in which case I block them and keep it moving. But every once in a while, there will be a troll sporting a whole bunch of dog whistle memes on his Facebook page—you know the ones, denigrating Black Lives Matter, gay rights, women, or reproductive healthcare. I know I’m never going to be able to talk any sense into him, and here he is shouting on my wall to my friends, who most assuredly don’t deserve it.

And that’s when I can feel my Scorpion tail twitching.

“Karl” was a troll like that. He started out with a stream of misspelled racist invective about Black Lives Matter, and then he homed in on me as a “stupid libral riting [sic] stupid books that none [sic] wants to buy.”

The first thing you want to do with a troll like Karl is administer a solid right hook to the very thing he thinks defines him, which is, of course, his penis. In other words, if you’re going to punch, punch low.

Karls will always rebut that by calling you fat. Or in my case, having “fake boobs.” Even if you aren’t fat or fake-boobed, don’t bother trading blows. Just keep doubling down on how woefully inadequate they are as men. Something like this, perhaps, which unfortunately my Karl never saw because he’d already blocked me, which was a terrible pity.

Appalling, isn’t it? Even I cringe when I re-read those words, but in my defense, he started it, and I don’t suffer fools, bullies, or racists.

I’m also a big proponent of women punching back.

Women have taken entirely too much crap from bullies over the years. We’re socially conditioned to put up and shut up, turn the other cheek or flee in feminine horror. I don’t think that’s particularly healthy. If there’s a screen and a keyboard between us and a bully, why not use it? FIGHT BACK. Not enough women do. It’s invigorating exercise that will battle-harden you for the real fights, such as abortion access and birth control.

Here are some other choice bon mots you lob at a Karl. They’re not the worst ones I’ve ever said, but you know, baby steps.

1. You’re so dense, light bends around you.

2. How the hell are you the sperm that won?

3. You might want to get a colonoscopy for all that butthurt.

4. Take my lowest priority and put yourself beneath it.

5. You’re the reason your mama swallows now.

Please feel free to use any of these time-honored insults. Improve upon them. Or not. Trolling trolls isn’t for everyone.

Yes, most of the time it’s best to walk away. As my mother used to tell me, “Stacey, never get in a pissing match with a skunk.” And she’s right. But every once in a while, there’s a special kind of troll who is so odious and horrible, and who so desperately needs to have his butt handed back to him, that it’s worth hauling out the heavy artillery.

That’s what I’m inviting you to prepare for. Have the weapon in hand, even if you don’t use it.

Knowing how to defend yourself and others on social media is to walk in power.

And the Karls never see it coming.

Copyright © 2022 Stacey Eskelin

How do you deal with social media bullies? I want to hear aaaaalllll about it. Let’s dish! Leave your comments below.