I am scared of men that follow me

Ok the title is a little dramatic but - sharing my thoughts on my relationship to male followers

I am going to speak candidly about my feelings and perceptions of male followers. I should note here that I am incredibly grateful for everyone who supports me. I do not assume that all of my male followers are just thirsty sheep consuming me as an image rather than a person. I’m not sure how necessary this disclaimer is, as I think a platform like Substack kind of self-selects a group of people who really do just care about what I have to say and me as a person, so I assume the men who follow me on here are in that demographic and won’t take offense.

When I first started Tik Tok, I was 18 years old and had a horrible relationship history with men in real life. I was indoctrinated - through my lived experience - that my main inherent value was sex appeal. I posted half-assed jokes that didn’t blow up because they were funny, but because they were delivered by a girl with G cups (they’ve shrunken now so don’t get too excited you filthy bastards). My social media presence was completely unfulfilling, and mostly comprised of either incel-esque hate or weird I-don’t-see-you-as-a-person-but-I’m-interacting-with-your-content-because-I-think-you’re-hot exchanges with male followers. I was fucking SHOCKED and devastated to discover Tik Tok analytics, that showed 60% of my following was male. That felt like there was something deeply wrong with me. What was so desperate and pandering and vapid about my presence that made it a magnet for men?

Over quarantine, I lost a bunch of weight (including boob weight, yay!) and completely stopped talking to all men in my life, save my brother and dad. I made radical feminist content (not radfem, but radically feminist. I am not saying radfem), and spoke candidly about misogyny in ways that made men uncomfortable. My follower ratio flipped, and I finally felt like a real person. I felt like I was worth something, that my online presence was finally valid - I had earned my spot. I think it’s very telling that this feeling only came once my audience interactions became 1) mostly with women and 2) nothing to do with my appearance. It takes very little time as a girl on the internet to realize that male attention is abundant and unflattering. If you are being told you’re beautiful, then you’re beautiful as something beneath him to be consumed. It’s not like being beautiful as a comrade or peer like with women.

As I started speaking more about sociology (not just topics related to gender - weight discrimination, capitalism, anthropology, mental health), I saw a drastic increase in hate from men. It was vitriolic and sinister and came from the ugliest and most execrable places. It is the reason why I still don’t check my Instagram DM requests to this day (sorry to anyone normal who’s DM’d me) - it was either threats or insults. The transition from being a coddled object for male aesthetic consumption to flaming red misogynistic-hate target was shocking but extremely important in my journey to realizing my relationship to men (or at least male audience members). When writing the last sentence, my instinct was to write “the descent from”, but then I realized it was actually an ascent. Going from sexualized to hated is an ascent. I am happier being the bitch that they send death threats to than the girl they screenshot and post on Reddit.

I’m going to try to talk about another aspect of my DMs from men without coming off as antifeminist or offensive, but I really want to analyze it. From the very beginning, and all the way through even my most outwardly man-hating content creation years, men have consistently DM’d me asking if I have an OnlyFans or “sell pics”. First of all, at the very base level it’s just fucking stupid because if I did, I would’ve advertised it. But second of all it’s unspeakably degrading and insulting. And this is the part where I’m cautious, because I’m not trying to imply that having an OnlyFans is embarrassing and pathetic or xyz. What’s insulting isn’t the possibility that I could be associated with selling nudes, but the thoughts/intentions behind them asking. It is the feeling that you are so entitled to consume any girl you see on the internet, that even if there are ZERO indications across any of her platforms that she sells nudes, you are adamant that it must be something you can get from her. It’s the assumptions behind it. Like, you’ve been convinced (by yourself and social forces) that you have the right to get the most out of things you find attractive, that if you see a pretty girl on Instagram then surely you must be able to see her naked. There must be some way! You know of the existence/prevalence of OnlyFans, therefore suddenly any girl on the internet must be doing it, if not willing to do it under the table for you with a little convincing. The boldness to fucking ASK!!! To fucking reach out to me and ask. I just can’t get over it. I never will.

I feel like I need to finish this by circling back to my disclaimer that this is not a global, blanketed opinion on my male followers. I write this assuming that any man who cared enough about my intellect/creative work to follow me to Substack has the cognitive maturity to take this as critical analysis, not a personal injury. It’s hard to navigate this caveat because I do know that there are normal men that follow me. I do know that normal men exist who can follow women just because they think they’re interesting and read their content because they like it and watch their Tik Toks because they think they’re funny and it’s as innocent and simple as that. But I’ve even had experiences with male followers who don’t fall on the spectrum of sexualizing to hateful, but that made me uncomfortable. Just too friendly. I have some names on my block lists that I feel guilty about, but they just were a little too much. It raises an alarm, as a woman. It makes me think of internet stalkers and female Redditors who had followers show up to their house and shit like that that really does happen.

I hate that I feel guilty for being scared. I know there is good reason. I hate that I feel guilty for writing about it, because this is my platform and I should. The experience of being a girl with a large platform on the internet is incredibly complicated and fascinating and depressing.