I Like Words: How a Innocent Joke Started a Malicious Trend

It was an ordinary morning. An early riser, I was up and at it by three. In the midst of my routine, I checked my X account. Several people I follow post early, so mornings are a good time to scroll. That’s when I noticed someone I had recently followed, someone quite new to the site, with lots of interaction on one of her posts. This person posts interesting content, has a catchy handle, and is already well-embedded in the horror family on X. However, I believe this particular post got a boost in interactions because it was a selfie, and the woman is very attractive. Though not the sole reason, I believe her attractiveness also helped build her following on X quickly.

I’d seen it countless times. For instance, when I first joined X, I frequently noticed how an attractive woman could post a selfie with a brief introduction and have as many followers in hours as it took the rest of us weeks or months to get. Is that the end of the world? Should I whip together a rally outside Elon’s doors? No. But I thought it was damn good fodder for a simple joke about how many guys, to put it crudely, click with their you-know-whats online.

And so, I posted the following. For reasons I’ll come to explain, I later deleted the post, but here I’ve waded through the cesspool to find it: https://x.com/jennfarrar7/status/1900533864860459453

What is obvious at once is that I wrote the joke specifically in relation to the writing community on X, the only online community with which I’m familiar. I was not trying to say that pretty women don’t post solid content on X, but rather that their prettiness helps increase traffic on their posts, resulting in more likes, replies, and reposts, especially when those same pretty women regularly post selfies. Naturally, this increased activity also applies to pretty women posting mediocre content on X: if appearance is the basis for choosing to interact with someone online, that person’s content may not be relevant.

Meanwhile the rest of us, men and women alike, who may be accomplished writers or otherwise have much to offer in our posts, may not get the same amount of traction on X because we’re just not as easy on the eyes. And, of course, this is not to say that we less attractive people can’t be successful on X nor that we’re all geniuses society has left by the wayside.

The above makes the joke sound dry and complicated, but that’s what happens when you explain humor. In fact, if I had teased out all these nuances in the original post, it would have been no joke at all. The jest was meant to be a straightforward, honest observation – my lived experience, if you will. The perspective it shared wasn’t groundbreaking nor did it flirt with taboos. It was something with which people could relate, and a lot of people did, both men and women. My little account quickly gained some follow backs.

On the other hand, the post started the infamous ‘I like words’ trend. This trend involved mostly women posting selfies of themselves and quoting the joke. Frankly, lots of skin was shown, but what was really fascinating was how most people, though they had no idea what the trend was about, were nonetheless eager to take part, thus proving the point. Only some people were vaguely aware it had something to do with, as legend had it, a grumpy, white, middle-aged misogynist with a master’s degree in creative writing, disgruntled over why his trilogy won’t sell in a world where women get their stories published simply because they’re cute.

I’m still not sure what my race and age have to do with anything, but yes, I’m white and middle-aged. The rest is bullshit, a real stretch in the meaning of the joke. To begin with, it wasn’t about me: I do not have an MFA, I do not write short stories and poems, and I’m not even querying my standalone novel (yet). It certainly was not a commentary on the publishing industry; as the joke itself declared, it was about the writing community on X. And finally, how does one confuse an elbow jab at horny guys with misogyny?

Willfully. That’s how.

I wrote a follow up post explaining the joke. In response, one woman scrolled through my feed, replies included, to capture, crop, and repost all the posts she deemed offensive. She made callouts to people in the publishing industry, making it clear to them that if they dared to associate with me professionally, then they too would be misogynists. When I read one of my mutuals complaining to me in a reply, I reached out to her directly to explain the joke, and to assure her it was not a comment on her qualities as a writer. I even went so far as to apologize to her personally for any perceived offense, as none was ever intended. She understood this and was grateful for my acknowledgment. So much so that while I went ahead and deleted the joke and the post trying to explain it, she promptly joined the trend and showed how offended she was by posting a photo of herself in sexy costume.

The trend became a “movement,” as I’ve seen it referred, pulling together writers on X from around the world. But, in the end, what was it that really brought people together? How could indignation bind so many who had never even read the joke? Why would so many assume a polite interpretation of the joke by its author to be insincere? More to the point, if this was a movement, then where was it going? What was its aim?

Destruction: the aim of every mindless mob. Better yet, the sheer joy of destruction. The bully’s rush of power, made especially intoxicating by the moral pedestal on which everyone who wielded it could safely stand. And if joining the feeding frenzy also promoted one’s own writing, who could resist?

Some did, but their voices were shouted down and threatened with the same treatment. As the trend evolved, it sadly became a parody of the joke itself, but that wasn’t the worst part. It quickly became a parade of the kind of insecurity, vanity, victimhood, opportunism, and pettiness – words I don’t like, but that so often characterize the spirit of discourse on X, as it certainly did in this case. And that’s no laughing matter.

Why? Because, in the end, it was just a silly joke. Wonk-wonk.