I was “Canceled” by an Online Meme Community. I’ve Been Doxxed for 2 Years. I Can’t Live Like This Anymore
[cw: assault, suicide, trauma, drug abuse]
Hi, I’m Wagner.
If “cancel culture” really exists, I don’t think it’s all bad. People with power should be held to account. The boundaries of socially acceptable behavior should be renegotiated every so often. I overstepped these boundaries without realizing, and hate myself for it. While I attempted to make amends and be accountable, I’ve been physically and digitally stalked by a group of “meme creators” for the past two years. I can’t tell if this level of punishment is proportionate, but I do know: I can’t live like this anymore.
First, some context on me. I’m a white cis hetero man (I agree: ugh) who grew up in the middle of nowhere Michigan with intense depression. This being rural middle America in the ’90s, my parents being uneducated factory workers, I had no idea what “depression” was. I just knew I was sad approximately constantly and couldn’t really hold a friendship because of it. It wasn’t until my mid-twenties I was diagnosed and given an antidepressant that lifted some of the fog. It felt like the invisible 50-pound weight I’d been carrying my whole life became a 30-pound weight. Still a hell of a lot of weight, but better.
In those depressed times, making comedy is what made me feel like I had any connection, any tether to the rest of the human race. When I got a half-tuition scholarship to USC film school, I jumped at the chance, despite my working-class family’s supreme bafflement. After graduating I flailed for a while, temped, was a barista, hopped from odd job to job while my parents watched with profound concern. Then I started that antidepressant.
I was lucky—it worked for me. I was invigorated, starting pumping out comedy online with my best friend, and we established a following. Despite attracting a manager & agent, we never figured out how to make a living off our work. But one nice thing was that I fell in with a far-left, hardline feminist community online that made funny (if abrasive & militant) memes about their political views. My work has always been more absurd than political, but I’ve always leaned far left, so it was a natural fit. As a historically lonely individual who’d never had any sort of community, it felt great. I felt part of something, felt valued.
I began dating in this community; I dated one member seriously for about eight months. When we broke up, she texted me about two moments during our relationship she’d felt sexually uncomfortable that she hadn’t brought up before. I felt horrible. I had no idea she’d felt this way, apologized and offered to meet up to discuss and give an in-person apology. For the sake of accountability, I’ll recount these incidents, which have already been written about at length on social media.
The first was the first time we had sex. We met up, got drinks, went to her place, and started hooking up. She asked if I had protection; I did and put it on. We had sex. Later, we started having sex again. In my mind it was clear I wasn’t wearing a condom this time — I certainly didn’t pretend to put one on, nor had one on and secretly took it off, which I’ve seen people say. I’d mentioned I have anorgasmia and essentially never finish during regular intercourse. Still, I should have verbally confirmed unprotected sex was ok. That was my responsibility. I wasn’t thinking, wasn’t as empathetic as I should have been. She told me I should have remembered from the first time that she wanted me to wear protection, and though she hadn’t mentioned it over the ensuing months of our relationship, on that night she’d felt violated. I’d caused harm.
The second time, mid-way through our relationship, was a night where she told me when we met up she didn’t want to have sex that night. We watched a movie, hours passed, we started making out, and she asked if I wanted to go to her room. It seemed like things were leading toward sex, so I asked if she was sure this was ok. She said it was, and we had sex. When we broke up months later, she told me she felt pressured in this instance, and that while she did say yes, I should have detected the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. I don’t recall that lack, but was I just hearing the tone of “yes” I wanted to hear? I don’t know, but I know I caused harm, because she told me I did. Pressuring wasn’t my intention, but I know you can make people feel pressured without being aware.
At first she seemed amenable to meeting up and talking. I knew just because I didn’t realize these actions were harmful doesn’t negate the fact that she was hurt by them. But a few days later, without warning, she posted a public callout to her several thousand followers. She said I was a knowing predator. All my friends in the community begin posting that I’ve been a “predator hiding in plain sight”.
At first, my mentality is “If there’s any way I can improve my behavior, I want to do that. No matter how much it hurts, I’ll take in every message I get. These are my friends.” But all that comes in are hundreds of messages to go kill yourself, you rapist fuck. My creative partner M* (for what it’s worth — a queer, female survivor of rape) texts my ex in the hopes of establishing some dialogue between us. In response, my ex tells her followers that M is trying to silence her and reveals M’s cell number to her followers in a screenshot. Now M is getting her own “go kill yourselfs” from the meme community, even being threatened with rape.
I knew if I was a follower of my work I’d want to see me take responsibility and apologize with no defensiveness, without centering it on my feelings; this feels like the right thing to do. I write a statement to this effect, which our manager & agent strictly forbid me to share. They say this will blow over, nobody cares, don’t bring attention to it. This feels wrong but I’m terrified of losing them — I’m completely broke, in huge debt and they represent a link to income. I spend weeks having increasingly frustrating conversations with them to no avail.
On social media, things escalate. I see stories posted amongst the meme creators. That I’d indecently exposed myself to someone. That I’d tried to get someone fired for turning down my sexual advances. I can’t tell if a lot of these started as something based in fact and got distorted by a game of telephone into something I don’t recognize at all, or if many are just wholly fabricated. I’ve never attempted to get anyone fired. I’ve never used any kind of force, violence, deception, or have ever knowingly harmed a person.
But just because no one’s telling you you’re causing harm doesn’t mean that you’re not. I reach out to past romantic partners. I do learn there are ways I could have been a more empathetic, listening partner to people in my life. In ways small enough that they hadn’t been explicitly brought up, but small things add up. I work to apologize to people directly; I work with my therapist to become more emotionally aware, less caught up in my own depression and anxiety. We work to dismantle my narcissistic tendencies, my need for constant validation and achievement. Even with M, whom I love deeply, I learn I’d been toxically hogging all the emotional attention in our relationship, which neither of us fully noticed until we both started intensive therapy.
As the situation escalates, our manager & agent drop us, and so I post my accountability statement & video. This only adds fuel to the shaming fire.
Another person in the meme community I’d hooked up with once posts that she should’ve seen this coming, as she’d once had an uncomfortable experience with me. I’m confused as we’d remained good friends since our hookup nearly two years prior, which had seemed benign and mutual, though we had been drinking that night. I text her an apology for making her uncomfortable and offer to meet up and talk.
M calls me in hysterics the next morning—this meme creator has posted to her large following that I’ve sent her a text “admitting to raping her”, and that I am the “admitted rapist of over a dozen women”.
At first: shock. This is, obviously, life-ending material. But then I breathe a sigh of relief. This is an absurdly over-the-top allegation. I count—I’ve only had sex with 16 people in my life, and at the time I kept in touch with most over social media. I’ve never used any kind of violence or physical restraint or deception during sex. This is easily disprovable. Someone’s going to ask “where’s this admission?”, it will be revealed there is none, and that’ll be that, right?
But everyone seems to take this as truth. Anything I say is dismissed as the ramblings of a “psychopath”. I have no voice. The meme community finds where my creative partner and I live; they come and spraypaint our property. They find my day job and harass them til I’m fired. 90% of my friends stop speaking to me. Those that remain are harassed just for knowing me. The meme community spraypaints “Alan Wagner is a Rapist” all over Los Angeles.
My partner tells me she can’t take this anymore, it’s too retraumatizing for her. She has posted a tearful video, expressing how unsafe she feels. The meme community responds by taking screenshots and calling her a “fake tears bitch”, and by putting up signs around LA with our photos, names and home address at the bottom.
We stop posting our comedy. Nearly a year ago. I still regularly get emails like “We’ll never forget — may you never find peace” and another assuring me that the location of my new house has been determined. It has been two years of this. My drug use and suicidal ideation have skyrocketed. I’ve engaged in self-harm, had a full-body panic attack that landed me in the hospital and found myself involuntarily committed to a psych ward last month by my friends for discussing how hopeless I feel (being 51–50ed is not enjoyable!) (though I do deeply appreciate my friends for caring enough to do it to me) (even if I snapped at them at the time. I shouldn’t have).
I don’t believe I’m a victim. Harmful behavior should have consequences. I suppose it’s not up to me to decide what level of punishment is proportionate. I just know I can’t live like this anymore. I’ve been living in constant fear for two years. I’ve been stalked in my home, socially isolated, cut off from making any advancement in my career and prohibited from practicing the passion that gave my life its meaning. I’m 28 and feel as if no life is in front of me. How can I pay off my student debt if this meme community is monitoring my LinkedIn and gets me fired from any job I try to hold? Are people going to be screaming at me to kill myself the rest of my life? I can tell you a complete rando coming to spraypaint your house hurts, but someone retracting their friendship after several years hurts a lot more.
I don’t believe I’m a victim. Harmful behavior should have consequences.
If you’ve used the internet in the past 20 years, you’re aware public shaming is increasingly weaponized and incentivized in online culture. I was part of a PhD psychological research project that studied some twenty-odd people who’d undergone massive media shaming. We were all given questionnaires to determine our level of trauma, and we unanimously scored off the charts. I believe in transparency, accountability, and speaking up when you’ve been hurt, but punitive shaming to this degree is a certified psychological hellworld. There’s no way to go through this and not strongly consider ending your life. It’s not just “mean comments”; it affects every component of your life down to your physical health.
To anyone I’ve hurt, I’ve apologized in statements and videos, and will remain sorry for the rest of my life. I didn’t know I had toxic behavioral traits, but I don’t want to minimize the fact that I caused pain. When I have learned I’ve hurt someone, I’ve felt like shit, apologized directly, worked to be publicly accountable and better my behavior. I do believe making up a dozen rapes is demeaning to survivors of assault, as was the doxxing of my creative partner. I don’t see the value of stalking us in our homes when I’ve expressed nothing but contrition and a willingness (if not desperation) to better my behavior. These weren’t just a “few bad apples”. This is the culture of the “meme community”, and the prevailing tenor of internet discourse.
It’s been two years of daily paranoia, being unable to date, find work, make new friends or create the art that got me through my depression. Even on days where no gut-wrenching messages come in, I know more are around the corner. You never get used to them. I don’t write this for sympathy or absolution, but with the hope to spark some dialogue about what is accountability, and whether policing & punishing each other like this is the best way to facilitate each other’s growth or ensure communal safety.
I don’t believe punitive shaming is never warranted, but I know from doing research (and being a part of someone else’s) that online shamings, even when initiated with the best of intentions, can escalate rapidly, dismantle lives and lead to suicide. They are frankly: fun. Whoever hung up signs with M’s face and address must have felt like a hero vanquishing evil. M has been diagnosed with PTSD from the meme community’s targeted retraumatization. I cannot grow into a better person in unending fear. I cannot survive like this.
I haven’t had anyone proofread this or give notes. This may not be a perfect document but I am earnestly trying to process this part of my life and do the right thing. I understand if you think I’m downplaying incidents or twisting events in my favor—I promise I am recalling them to the best of my memory. If I unknowingly made you uncomfortable during sex, you have a right to speak publicly about it. You don’t have a right to target, dox and traumatize my friends. You don’t have a right to spend years tracking me, ensuring I can’t build a happy or sustainable life for myself. I have suffered, I have grown, and I am sorry.
*M has a full name that is not just the letter M. I want to protect her privacy as she has a number of other crises happening in her personal life and can not take more doxxing/stalking from the meme community. For the sake of her wellbeing she cannot engage with this situation at this time. She has not read this article prior to its posting nor had any hand in writing it.
National Suicide Hotline: 800–273–8255
RAINN Sexual Abuse Hotline: 800–656–4673
I’ve decided to take my accountability videos off of Instagram. I’m archiving them here:
