Dark Money

Troll By Example
Mark Zuckerberg and I are the same age. While he was at Harvard building Facebook, I was at Hampton University, a world away in more ways than one. I remember exactly when Facebook hit our campus. It was a Sunday morning before football. Four or five of us were hanging out at Chris' apartment, the usual routine: laptops open, scrolling through ESPN.com.
Suddenly, everyone crowded around Chris' computer. I walked over and saw a page full of profiles - Facebook. The guys were glued to the screen, gawking at picture after picture. [When they landed the one of the girl with a flower in her hair, I glanced outside and said, “Yeah, she’s outside right now. I’m going to talk to her. Y’all can stay here you nerds.”]
I’m going outside y’all can stay here you nerds.
Fast forward a few years, and Instagram arrived. Same vibe: guys scrolling through pictures of women.
This time on their phones instead of laptops, [and now seemingly every woman pretended to be a swimsuit model. ]
I wasn’t interested in soft porn, so I avoided social media altogether. It made me the odd one out, but that’s fine.
Then there’s Twitter, which felt different. It wasn’t about girls; it was about thoughts. I loved blogs and RSS feeds, and Twitter was like a bite-sized version of both. Even simpler than Tumblr, which I’d also loved.
Everything was fine until Donald Trump decided to run for President. Suddenly, my timeline was saturated. Blocking his name and related words didn’t help. Unfollowing people didn’t work. Sports, music, tech - every topic I cared about was hijacked by Trump. No matter the niche, he dominated it.
I was pissed. He had ruined something I enjoyed. But I couldn’t blame him; he wasn’t forcing everyone to obsess over him.
What annoyed me even more was his fan base. The racism, sexism, xenophobia - you know the list. But here’s the thing: they were bad at being trolls. The hate in their hearts was clear, but their execution was weak.
“If a man is called to be a troll, he should troll even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should troll so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, ‘Here lived a great troll who did his job well.’”
I’d had enough. I’ll show you idiots how to troll. I Googled “middle-aged white guy,” found a picture of someone who owned a BBQ restaurant in North Carolina, and made a fake Twitter account: USASymbols 🇺🇸.
I went all-in. If you’re going to be racist about Tyreek Hill, use a picture where he’s wearing gold teeth. Forgot to mention his domestic violence charges? Amateur hour. Didn’t bring up how many baby mamas he has? Come on, rookies.
Conservatives loved my posts. Finally, someone could “own the libs” with articulate words and sound logic. Liberals, meanwhile, were furious … but confused. They called me a bot. I’d reply with a GIF of a robot doing the robot dance. My dance party was always solo, though - the Trumpers weren’t festive like that.
In a month, the account had 5,000 followers. Twitter was fun again. And I learned a lot. I understood how trolls think and operate, which made it easier to deal with them when they came for me. More importantly, it helped me develop crystal-clear boundaries.
“Racism” is a broad term. It can be anything from an uncomfortable look in an elevator to a lynching - and everything in between. I can’t change the world, but I can understand it. And when I understand it, I can bend it, every so slightly, to my will.
As Huey P. Newton said:
“Power is the ability to define phenomena and make them act in a desired manner.”