How social media gets you tried in the court of public opinion

First, I saw a tweet. Then a Facebook post by one of my writing friends. Then a retweet and a hashtag. The poet was having his goose cooked. Allegedly, he had sexually assaulted a woman, and for that reason, he was being reported to his superiors like a spoilt brat who has broken a neighbour’s window. I asked what happened and for that reason, a fiery girl said my words were ugly, and my privileged reasoning, unwelcome. I backed off.

Later on in the week, Twitter was at it again. This time the hunter was the hunted. Another hashtag.  It did not happen. And I got confused. Who is fooling who?

Similar position

You see, I asked for details about what happened because I have been caught in a similar position in which I was accused of attempting to rape a girl in my class. That was in first year. Rumors flew, many who know me took it with a pinch of salt.

It did not happen like it was being reported. This is going to sound silly and ugly, but the truth is I was just fooling around, like we used to do. Only that this time, she was not in the mood for my shenanigans, and she went to tell her roommate.

I was lucky that it did not spark a bushfire. But my name was already muddy. For the rest of the semester, the girls in my class became fidgety around me. Uneasiness printed all over their makeup. Sometimes, when a girl was having a bad day, she would spook at the slightest mistake I made and called me rapist. I took it all.

It would take two semesters before my supposed victim spoke to me. Our friendship had been shredded. Strained by the seething contempt I had for her because she never spoke out while I was jeered at. Then one day, after a lecture in second year, she walked up to me and asked “mbona umenitupa hivyo”. Ati things were never how they used to be between us.

“But you called me a rapist? How can things ever be the same again?”

Stupid and childish

She apologised. Said she got scared. She said that on that night she was feeling awful about something, and when she went to her room, she narrated what had happened to her friends. Her story went through the factory of female gossip from Bill being stupid and touchy and childishly brash to Bill pinning her down by force.

By the end of the fourth year, we had shared the sweet taste of sin.

That is why when I saw the rampage on social media; I remembered what happened to me in 2010. And I unapologetically became the devil’s advocate.