My social media threads have been sounding a little depressing lately. Maybe it’s just me, but the amount of negativity I read, it’s like a projection of people’s true feelings, and honestly, I just can’t contain it anymore. It overwhelms me. It makes me scared, anxious, and a little bit terrified of where we’re all heading.
Some might say, “Well, you posted it, you asked for it.” But I’m mostly on the other end of that thought. Like, why can’t we just say something nice? And if we really can’t find anything nice to say... why not just keep quiet?
And somehow, as if always perfectly timed, Aida Azlin came through again in her Closer email last Tuesday. The dua she shared was so beautiful, it just hit right where it needed to. SubhanAllah :( it’s like Allah sent it through her to act as a great reminder.
But the reason I’m writing this post... goes a little deeper.
Last month, someone took my dad’s picture and circulated it on the news and social media, wrongly accusing him of something he didn’t do. His photo appeared on Google when people searched the name of the actual accused, and somehow, it got picked up and spread through WhatsApp, Telegram, Facebook. People just forwarded and shared without thinking. The comments… ya Allah, they were insane.
But thank God for the people who know my dad and his work, who stood up for him and helped clarify things. My dad is a man with the kindest heart and I don’t say that just because I’m his daughter. I’ve never met anyone so humble, so giving. He treats everyone with respect, even when he doesn't get the same in return. He’s helped so many people without expecting anything back. And to see him being wrongly accused like that… it broke something in me.
I posted about it on Instagram, and I’m so grateful to everyone who supported and shared the truth. Because of you, the post reached so many accounts. Still, I can’t help but think how easy it was for people to believe something false, just because it looked “official.”
This incident really opened my eyes, and my heart. It reminded me not to trust everything we see online. Not every forwarded message, not every viral post. Everything must be fact-checked. And before we post or comment on something, just imagine if the person you're talking about was your own family. Imagine saying those things to their face. Just because we’re behind screens doesn’t mean there are no real consequences. The pain is real. The damage is real. In this world and in the next...
Then recently, there’s the whole situation with Sincerely Vivy going viral. I’ve been following her since her early days, one of her first email subscribers. I was curious to see what her life looked like now that she’s in her “de-influence” era. Whatever she’s done, wrongly accused or truly guilty, only Allah knows. But the level of hatred she’s been getting… it’s just a lot.
Even after she shared her diagnosis - SLE, a chronic illness, I thought people would be softer. Kinder. But no. The threads were still fuming.
And that made me sad. Because in Islam, when someone is sick, we’re taught to make dua for them, to visit them, to care. That’s the sunnah. Even if you’re angry or disappointed, at the very least, be decent. But what I saw was the opposite, especially from fellow Muslims. It just didn’t sit right with me.
These two stories made me realize something: I want to keep believing the best in people. Everyone’s carrying something we don’t see. Everyone has a story, a struggle. And just because their lives are public doesn’t mean we have a right to add to their pain or worse, to spread more lies about them.
It’s made me post less. Reveal less. I’m honestly scared of what the internet can do. I know I can’t generalise as there are still kind, loving people online. But the loud ones, the hateful ones, they make it hard to breathe sometimes.
So I’m choosing to rant here, on my blog. My safe space. I miss the old days, the blog era, tumblr days, when people were so supportive of one another, when the internet felt more like a community than a battleground.
Let’s try to keep that harmony here, shall we?
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