stop retweeting nude photos, you idiots

A series of online events took place today that made my insides boil while simultaneously making me want to crawl into a hole.

In case you missed it, here’s a recap:

An anonymous hacker (not to be confused with an Anonymous hacker) breaks into iCloud and steals photos of celebrities. Unfortunate photos. Vulnerable photos. Nude photos.

Hacker then leaks them slowly throughout the day, one celebrity victim at a time.

American people go crazy.

Not crazy that someone would invade these people’s privacy, mind you. Not crazy that someone would take a photo that was never meant to be shown and share it with the small, friendly audience known as the Internet. No.

They go crazy to see them. To retweet them. To mock them. To make memes from them. To antagonize them. To criticize their bodies, their positions. To suggest what they’d be willing to do or not do sexually based on how they look in these images.

The nude photos blow up on Twitter. Everyone clawing from their keyboards to see them, critique them, share them, come up with the most hilarious captions for them.

No one thinks, maybe I shouldn’t take part in this. Maybe I shouldn’t encourage this. How would I feel if this was my wife or girlfriend or mom or sister or me? What would I do if something so private, so personal was broadcasted to the world without my consent? And then the world responded by making a mockery of it? By using it as the punch line for their jokes. As a tool to get a few follows.

We’re making fun of Ariana Grande for being too skinny, Kate Upton for being too curvy, Jennifer Lawrence for being too sexual.

We imagine that we’re entitled to pass judgments and make jokes because they’re celebrities and we’re just regular people–safely hidden behind our computer screens. It’s fair game, right?

Shame on all of us.

We are the same people who cannot possibly imagine why children get bullied in school. Why they get picked on until they reach a breaking point. Why those not even 10 years old are driven to suicide.

Where do kids today learn to be so mean?

My God, they learn it from us.


This obsession wrecks and kills.
Compliments are only thrills.
Watch and look and notice me.
Feed my soul with flattery.

Trapped by mirrors. Locked inside,
With all the flaws you try to hide.
Take a photo. Hold it dear.
Beauty fades; your gravest fear.

Old and wrinkled. Spotted. Grey.
Nothing gold can ever stay.
Stolen by that master time.
Beauty thief, most deadly crime.

Sacrifices must be made.
Take my other strengths for trade.
Wit or stealth or joy of soul,
Can fill me up, but not make whole.

For value comes in slender thighs,
In luscious lips and endless eyes,
In busts so full and waistlines slim,
In fantasies and surface whims.

Better hope your baby girl,
Has ivory skin and lashes curl.
Better hope her dreams do rest,
On flatter stomachs, larger breasts.

Now wake up, suck in, take the scale.
Fight the fight, but never tell,
Your weakness and your strength are one.
Build back up to come undone.