From Women Hate

To Gamergate

Do We Truly Strive for Progress?

Introduction

As I ventured into the digital world of a topic I loved—gaming—hoping to connect with other gamers, I found myself trapped in a web of lies and overstepped boundaries. I made every effort I could think of to communicate, both verbally and behaviorally, that I didn't want to be involved in the schemes that GamerGaters were swiftly becoming known for starting in 2014. Looking back, watching the entire story unfold has been not only horrifying to witness but also extremely painful to endure.

It began innocently enough with a random encounter on a gaming platform. However, the man I met on Reddit, who initially seemed like a fellow gamer, soon led me into a mire of deceit, dysfunction, and distress. Reddit, often known as the "front page of the internet," is a place where people gather to share news, ideas, and have discussions. It's a mix of a bustling community hub and a dark underbelly, serving as both a stage for shared voices and a hiding place for whispers of malice and hate.

On Reddit, groups known as "subreddits" pop up like little gardens, each dedicated to a specific topic—everything from news and technology to gaming, sports, and entertainment. There are even communities dedicated to trying to get abused children back to safety, as well as help those children deal with their trauma when they grow up (disclaimer: therapy with a professional is often better, but our support communities helped when professionals were out of reach, financially for instance). These subreddits thrive on the free contributions of many users, who collectively shape the discussions within.

A unique system of voting exists in this digital maze, where users can upvote or downvote posts and comments, deciding what becomes more visible, which became corrupted by the use of bots, but that was the idea. These votes act as a guide, highlighting the most valued pieces of information according to the community. But within some subreddits, hidden conversations take place in the shadows, like secrets spoken in hushed tones. It's in these dark corners that true malevolence grows, where compassion disappears, and the vulnerable are preyed upon.

Despite the darkness, moments of kindness can pierce through, from teaching a person with anxiety exactly what to ask for when ordering a sandwich to doing an AMA with the Cookie Monster himself, to showing EA collectively exactly what we thought about their micro-transactions and "pride and accomplishment" in 2018, to the point where they hold a Guinness World Record for the most downvoted comment in the history of Reddit.

In discussion threads, people share their thoughts and experiences, finding comfort and understanding. Some attend online support groups of which I've personally helped start, manage, and grow. Some have learned things about themselves that they've questioned their entire lives. Some have even met, bonded, fallen in love, gotten married, and even had the next generation of Reddit users. It's here that empathy shines, providing a bit of light to those entangled in the web of online deceit.

However, one must tread carefully in this complex world. While Reddit can foster connection and enlightenment, it's also a breeding ground for misinformation, manipulation, and even cult or terrorist group recruitment, lurking to ensnare the unsuspecting and vulnerable. Therefore, when navigating Reddit, keep a sharp mind and a kind heart. Share ideas, seek support, and tell your stories, but always stay vigilant and practice safe internetting. The shadows beneath can twist the truth and exploit the vulnerable.

(Note: Never, ever, use the same username on Reddit that you use for any of your other accounts. Ever. It's a surefire way to earn you on the long list of people who can say they've been doxxed or horrifically trolled, and yes, even to suicide. Reddit is like an STD, make sure you go in protected.)

In a subreddit that brought gamers together for online missions, our paths crossed shortly after Gamergate started. Like most of my gaming interactions, it was only meant to be temporary, as I didn't have a lot of time to dedicate to gaming when pretty much everyone else played at night. During those hours, I was often paid a significant amount of money to cover weddings, parties, and other large events for 12+ hours that had 100+ people. However, this game was one I wanted to play when the ill-gotten gains were going to be good.

To avoid risking my career and the subsequent sleep deprivation, I posted in a gaming subreddit looking for players to join me in a then-new feature on Grand Theft Auto Online—heists—during the day. This required more players than I had friends available and willing to participate at that particular time. As the story goes, I did something I don’t normally do and ended up meeting several people, not realizing I would be friends with them for many years, only for some to later become radicalized online, threaten me with 'or else' ultimatums, and ultimately destroy everything in my life.

While gaming co-op, one of the men I bonded with discussed our shared talents, nerdy passions, and hours of friendly chatter. From endless mic sessions to exchanging countless texts, our relationship defied my skepticism about online connections, revealing a bond deeper than I ever imagined. What started as virtual encounters soon grew beyond the gaming world. We shared tens of thousands of texts (which are being made available in this e-book as an 'extra'), discussing our daily lives, hopes, dreams, and fears.

Our conversations expanded past games, covering a wide range of captivating topics for 5-10 hours per day. I never thought our online talks would turn into something real. I used to believe that true connections only happened in person; I didn’t think that bonding could ever occur online because of some biological thing I didn't understand. But as we spent hundreds of hours talking, our bond broke through the screen, deeply touching my heart. With each conversation, our connection grew, revealing our true selves—well, mostly true selves—and shared dreams.

In those virtual moments, beyond our avatars, I felt the power of our friendship. Every text and voice message was filled with authenticity and understanding, challenging all my doubts about online love, like falling dominos. We naturally transitioned from gaming allies to close confidants, guided by our growing feelings. It felt like fate was leading us to explore our connection beyond gaming. My skepticism faded, replaced by a belief in the human heart’s capacity to form genuine bonds, regardless of distance.

In the beginning, his kindness and attention drew me in. The term "love bombing" was in my vocabulary, but how he acted didn’t seem like that at first. He also gave me space to focus on my career, run errands in peace, or even just watch movies alone if I needed a few hours to decompress from my incredibly stressful and draining career. However, about two months in, I began to realize that what I had initially perceived as his supportive, friendly behavior was becoming a strategy to pull me in closer.

Though I clearly communicated that I was married, a mother, a busy multiple award-winning artist, and navigating my own mental health and past traumas, he continued to pursue a deeper relationship with me. With my husband's awareness, I shared my confusion surrounding my sexuality—specifically polyamory—but also emphasized that I needed time for personal growth and healing before I could even considering another relationship, which he expressed interest in developing with me.

(Note: To my husband and me, polyamory is defined as the practice of being romantically involved with multiple people, with the knowledge and consent of everyone involved. I specifically embraced "parallel polyamory," while he identifies as monogamous with me. This clarification is crucial for the book, especially since we are releasing the text messages from this relationship to the public, in light of the destruction they have caused.)

However, overcoming my trauma was of utmost importance to me, as I sought to break the cycle of abuse that my family had forced on me—a cycle I was fiercely determined not to repeat with my child. Despite my transparency, he consistently disregarded the boundaries I established, leaving me feeling vulnerable, unheard, and violated. Simultaneously, due to the unresolved trauma I was still processing, I struggled to articulate my feelings and assert myself.

It became evident that I needed to protect myself from the brewing storm, so I decided to secure our conversations in transcripts "just in case." These files remained untouched on my hard drives for years until the horrific abuse in 2021-2024, which I will discuss in later chapters. I confided in my husband about the dissonance between the love I was experiencing and the feeling of being unheard. However, he didn't quite know how to address it either, as he, too, struggled with listening to me, stemming from an upbringing that had similarly shaped his patriarchal perceptions.

A little before this chaotic period, I became aware of Gamergate and closely followed the stories in the media to safeguard myself as a woman in gaming, fully recognizing that I could become a target if I wasn’t careful. Beginning in late 2014, this controversy was purportedly centered around "ethics in gaming journalism"—a topic that sparked significant debate for obvious reasons—but it quickly devolved into a vicious and often highly targeted campaign of hatred aimed at women and other minorities.

As is often the case with abusers, this included aggressive stalking, hate speech, doxxing, and the compilation of dossiers filled with "evidence"—often inaccurate or fabricated—against these individuals. They manipulated evidence to frame their victims for things they didn't do or say and, tragically, some even faced abuse severe enough to drive them to take their own lives.

The profound impact of this movement on the gaming community resonated with me, as stories of harassment and violence against women seeped deeply into my consciousness. I started to distance myself from many of my male gaming friendships for my own safety, ultimately culling all but very few, though none of those past connections hurt me to the level that this man and his "friends" would inevitably devastate my life and psyche.

As I navigated my own challenges, I discovered that some of my female friends were also facing increased harassment. They shared their fears and the relentless efforts to silence them. It felt as if I was caught in a web of destruction, connecting my own experience to this larger, darker "movement". It reminded me of the IsAnyoneUp.com drama, which likewise led to extreme pain in the lives of thousands of women, while too many men had their "fun" from all the destruction.

Yet, at that point in our "relationship," Gamergate had not even been going for a full year. We all believed it would eventually die down and that those participating in the most destructive behaviors would find other outlets for their rage. So determined to uncover the truth about his intentions with me, I made a bold move with a friend of mine that initially made me deeply uncomfortable—honestly, it still does, but I can't change the past.

I used to, and still do, consider myself a very moral and ethical woman, so this decision required a lot of back and forth and mulling over every detail my trauma-induced OCD could squeeze out of it. With the help of an ex-friend of mine, who knew I was autistic and struggling, I recognized the importance of this 'war' we were being forced into, whether we wanted to participate or not, just like I was forced to endure my family's abuse. Trust me when I say I absolutely did not want to do this but felt heavily swayed by the potential 'truths' it could reveal.

We decided that the very low-key 'trap' we could set would not hurt anyone—that I was promised—but would tell me if he truly cared for me or was potentially engaging in things like social engineering, cyberstalking, and grooming for a sextortion scheme. Since I knew that he had one of my old, basically unused Reddit accounts that I only really used to give abuse survivors resources and information and we met on it nearly two months earlier, I was told to drop a link on that account that would point to my identity to anyone watching the account.

I was certain nearly nobody would notice, and we were right. Nobody but him checked the link, but he was in a different location than he had told me willingly on his own—I didn't ask for his information. It was close, but it was still not the truth. This solidified my decision to create some distance between us because I had no idea what this man or any of his friends were capable of; it was just too risky. Having worked in insurance for many years, I had become very risk-averse, but I digress.

I told him I was going to quit the older version of the game we were playing together on the Xbox 360 and move to the newer version on another console with some of my women friends to wait out the impending "movement" against women in gaming, which was the truth. While very disappointed because I genuinely believed he liked me, I was also relieved that I may have avoided a potential life and sanity-breaking Gamergate situation—this part I kept to myself. I sent a DM and unfriended him, believing I had avoided the wrath.

Shortly afterward, he DMed me something along the lines of, "You'll never guess what's in my hot little hands right now." I giggled to myself because of my immaturity, but then also felt pangs of disappointment because I was going to miss our fun banter, sarcasm, and double entendres. Mostly, I'd miss our teamwork. He quickly remedied the 'problem' I created by going to purchase the newer version of the game I was moving to—at full price—a gesture that I registered as incredibly sweet, and as every horror story goes, I couldn't resist.

As time went on, we got closer and closer, and we ended up starting what I believed to be a polyamorous relationship. We had said the "L word" and had progressed toward the next stages of relationships: intimacy and sex. Quite frankly, this terrified me, but I was honest, told my husband, and got his blessing for my 'freebie', for the lack of a better term, to see if polyamory was for me. Since we weren't official, I figured sending random images of women's bodies found from the image section of browsers for our 'role-playing' was probably going to be a better decision than giving him any real intimate images because, hey, "you never know."

Whether they're good reasons or not, combined with the then somewhat current news of the infamous "revenge porn" site IsAnyoneUp.com and a creator who, at the time, had still completely avoided any consequences (though has now served time in federal prison), along with the current news of the rise of the Manosphere, 4Chan, Kiwi Farms, Gamergate, and his stalking, I assessed the risk combined with what we both seemingly wanted, and decided this was how I would navigate practicing safe-ish internetting. Everything about us was a 'normal' relationship until the blackmail.

Again, I'm not proud of myself for not thoroughly thinking this out, but it was evident from these photos that they were different women, which was intentional; they were used solely for our intimate but "casual" role-playing. They were all different shapes, colors, and other varying factors. I never once used a fake name, fraudulent identity, asked for or took money, or anything else that would cause this situation to be misconstrued as "catfishing"—and no, this is not that kind of story—but in the whirlwind of it all, feelings got caught and misunderstandings happened.

I hoped to convey my awareness of his actions without confronting him directly, which in hindsight was rather weak of me. However, having been taught to avoid such confrontation out of respect for men, this was easier on me. I was taught to trust a man's lead, but most men had hurt me significantly, so I never could deep down. I reminded him of the boundaries I had set in various ways, but he continued to evade the reality of his transgressions that I had hoped he'd admit because he "loved" me. But he didn't.

For two months following his online stalking, I lived in fear, aware that I was dealing with a man I had become very close to and loved, but who was allegedly connected to a group known for hating, 'exposing', and ruining women's lives, based on many of the things he would say in passing (also known as "dog whistles", cant, and argot language). Each day brought new waves of uncertainty. Yet, possibly because of love bombing, I also felt affection for the man who treated me kindly through text and during our countless hours of calls.

I didn't know how to reconcile the feeling I later learned was called "dissonance" and "dissociation". Eventually, I couldn’t remain silent any longer. I admitted he had crossed lines he should never have, that we had played a very tiny prank on him, where nobody was hurt or would be hurt, and I assured him of this. I also blamed my Biblical teachings to help him understand my perspective on why I did what I did (hence the intermixing of Biblical scripture on my site and in my story).

I drew upon my fear of the potential destruction that Gamergate represented, which turned out to be much more dangerous and deadly than we had initially anticipated. He helped alleviate my fears by being very compassionate about my mistake in judgment, telling me he forgave me and that I really needed to work on forgiving myself because I was beating myself up badly. After all, it’s ‘just’ gaming, right? It’s merely a hobby many of us have enjoyed since childhood.

I never imagined that terms like "parasocial relationships," intentional "false accusations," "doxxing," public "smear campaigns," "gangstalking," "stochastic terrorism," and "forced suicide"—paired with the resurgence of Nazism, Christian nationalism, white supremacy, and "ideological polarization"—would invade my psyche, career, and my life—and love—in such profound ways. I had no idea what to do.

Then, in a cruel twist after my confession, he also confessed to the cyberstalking I had already been aware of and to sharing intimate details and my location with a "friend"—all without my consent. He withheld information that compromised my family's safety for close to two months—something I had naively believed I was safe from because he allegedly "loved" me. Despite this betrayal, he has concealed his friend's identity to this day, and I knew that was it and that I was not going to make it out of this.

I found myself trapped in a nightmare of shattered boundaries, stalking, and coercion into a sexual relationship that had left me with no safe way out. In trying to keep myself safe, I inadvertently became a mental mess and prayed many times to a God I had abandoned shortly before I met him. I foolishly believed that if I was nice, kind, or extra loving, it might spare me from his power and control over me, which I never wanted him to possess but which he had stolen from me.

He left me for the first time suddenly via text about a month later. Shortly thereafter, an anonymous figure emerged on an account we had set up as a decoy. This account matched my gamer name and nothing else—nearly nobody knew it was mine, and it was not the original one he and I had met on. We created it to catch what we believed he and his "friends" were involved with and what they planned to do with my information.

Wielding the sensitive information my soon-to-be sex trafficker knew and had specifically mentioned—cheating that never happened, which I could never get him to drop—they demanded that I tell my loved ones this false narrative, accompanied by threats of exposure—that they'd "do it for me"—if I didn’t comply. The looming threats to expose my truth of polyamory to my loved ones hung over me like a dark cloud.

This forced me to confront the harsh reality of online abuse, blackmail, interstate threats, and my sexuality, which I was already struggling with after being raised in strict religions—all of them abusive. I knew this was too much for me, so I took what I knew about my former polyamorous partner and the evidence I had, and I called my local non-emergency law enforcement office to face my new reality. I was deeply hurt, ashamed, in sensory overload, and crying my eyes out, but I did it.

I was somewhat re-assured by the knowledge that my husband was aware of what had really happened and that this man was the only one who confused polyamory for cheating. However, I wasn't as concerned as I should have been because I didn't harbor such levels of evil and darkness. My mental health professionals helped me understand that if such malice wasn’t within me, I couldn’t project it onto others or anticipate it.

Mental Health Problems and Psychotherapy In Female Victims of Human Trafficking

Psychiatry, BorgElArab Central Hospital, Alexandria, Egypt

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC10479168/

I needed to rely on my senses and nervous system to guide me, though I was learning that my sense of awareness had become all but dissociated due to my history of horrific, long-term abuse. A symptom of this trauma was also a major issue in most of my friendships and my current marriage—I had stopped listening to those warning signs decades prior.

The laws of the United States, where I found myself ensnared, contained provisions against stalking, sextortion, interstate threats, harassment, and blackmail, so I believed it would be easy to get this situation taken care of. Yet, amidst this twisted dance of manipulation and deceit, I felt the walls closing in on me, leaving little room for escape, and I couldn't afford the help I desperately needed—there were very few free resources for this type of situation.

The path forward became obscured by the false narrative hanging over my head, ready to strike if I didn’t comply with the demands of the man I knew was allegedly behind these threats—or his "friend," as he had called him, given the unique information they used against me. In my quest for justice against the online crimes I endured, I soon realized that although these offenses were digital, my physical location played a critical role in pursuing prosecution.

Little did I know that I was about to plunge into the labyrinth of international cyber laws, where the boundary between virtual and physical jurisdictions blurs and becomes overly difficult to navigate. As I navigated deeper into the complexities of cross-border crimes, I encountered the concept of extra-territorial jurisdiction, which refers to a country's ability to exert legal authority beyond its own borders to prosecute crimes committed in or against its citizens abroad. However, this concept proved to be more elusive than I initially thought, even though my situation constituted clear blackmail.

Different jurisdictions interpreted and enforced extra-territorial jurisdiction variably, often considering the crime's location, the perpetrator's and victim's nationalities, and bi-lateral agreements between countries. Navigating this convoluted legal terrain required resilience and a deep understanding of the international legal framework—but most importantly, it required money I did not have due to the $2.5-million NICU bills I was still paying on after my child nearly died in my arms shortly after they were born and before I met him.

To my dismay, I discovered that not all countries were equally committed to combating online crimes. Many lacked adequate resources and focused only on large organizations, leaving small groups—like the one he and his "friends" were a part of—unaddressed, even though they eventually became classified as organized crime due to the pre-meditation behind their actions against women, among other reasons. While some nations had robust cybercrime laws and stringent measures in place, others lagged behind, rendering victims vulnerable to exploitation.

This disparity created a patchwork of legal protections, where the extent of justice I could pursue hinged on my geographical location, and I didn't understand why. Throughout my pursuit, I encountered the convoluted web of mutual legal assistance treaties—international agreements that facilitate cooperation between law enforcement agencies across borders. These mechanisms aim to bridge the gap between jurisdictions, enabling the exchange of evidence and information crucial to investigations and legal proceedings.

I believed many times that this newest information I acquired would do the trick, but alas, the system is clearly not built for actual justice. Nonetheless, challenges such as bureaucratic hurdles, cultural barriers, and differing legal systems often complicated the process, traumatizing me even further while I was desperately trying to hold it together for my career, where I had no backup plan and no sick days allowed.

I already struggled with trauma, autism, and the demands of modern motherhood, where both of us had to work, compounded by a busy career and the added stress of having a mentally ill mother and sister, which made juggling everything overwhelming. Privacy laws also played a significant role in my pursuit of justice. Despite the internet's borderless nature, individual privacy and personal data were protected within specific national frameworks, often more so in other countries than in my own.

These regulations sought to safeguard individuals' personal information from unauthorized access and abuse, while also shielding criminals who exploited those rights for this particular type of terrorism. Understanding the nuances of privacy laws in each jurisdiction was vital for identifying potential breaches and securing my right to privacy.

As I embarked on this arduous journey through the maze of international cyber laws, I recognized that seeking justice would necessitate a multi-dimensional approach—one that required time I didn’t have, money I couldn’t spare, and mental resilience already weakened by decades of unresolved trauma.

It would involve collaborating with local law enforcement, engaging legal professionals specialized in international cyber law, and leveraging the support of advocacy groups dedicated to combating online crimes. Yet, despite my efforts, none of these entities took me seriously; they too believed this was merely an internet squabble that would quickly resolve itself.

We were all sorely mistaken...