12,000 characters on “hear-me.social“. I barely have inspiration for 20, since I’ve just written 24 posts (spent my whole day on it) to avoid submitting an empty social page to Google Play Store. I’m going to embed Mastodon on my new mobile app. It seems like “hear-me.social” is a bit more sapio than sexual. And I take the 12K limit as a welcome gift—thank you! I might be a bit spammy since I have to copy and paste my 24 posts. The HTML editor looks a bit small to write a dictionary, to be honest!
My text is 550 characters long, and what a pleasure it is to not have to waste several minutes trying to reduce my thoughts. I mean, posting dozens of messages a day can waste 30 minutes of life on a daily basis, sometimes for just 3 or 5 characters. Also, not having to split one thought into 3 or 15 posts is a relief. It’s a crossover between WordPress and Twitter: the complexity of a long post combined with the ease-of-use of a social network. It’s indeed more ‘mind’ focused, rather than just a post you produce in 3 minutes and consume in 3 seconds.
Socials are turning me depressive. I was shadowbanned for months on Twitter without knowing it. I only had 50 followers, so having 25 or 2 views didn’t make my tweets seem less engaging. I devoted so much time and energy to monetizing my socials, and I was talking alone to a wall, without any justification. I have a lot to learn from this Twitter adventure. Twitter allows explicit sex but not controversial opinions. The bias is real.
Algorithmic manipulation. A narcissistic AI. How ironic does that sound? AI only serves its own interests: advertiser pressures, algorithmic bias toward popular accounts. Platforms tend to focus on users who drive traffic, which means smaller accounts don’t get as much attention. I used Twitter for 15 years; it was my favorite social platform. I know I will find marvelous friends on Mastodon, but this divorce from Twitter is still heartbreaking, no matter how stupid it may sound.
All the truth are not good to say. Being influent requires to be diplomatic. There is only one good way to be loved: never show emotion or weakness signs. Be a bot. Hide your emotions. That’s not me. You’re only appluased when you’re successfull, in this society who judges only by the shell’s aspect. I can try to avoid conflictuous topic, but House Station Live is a charity designed to solves society’s issues, not to sh*t up and obey to some mysterious masters.
These algorithms are really turning us paranoid. Our videos should be getting more views. We don’t have funds for a video editor. A simple word not muted or blurred, a simple joke about a game environment with no link to real life, could lead to the anger of these empowered algorithms, which don’t understand the notions of sarcasm or context. This is stressful and scary, as our business relies on the tolerance of automated systems.
Everything started when we worked on an update of House Station Live’s mobile app, which encountered an issue improperly displaying our socials. We decided to use Tagembed to embed our socials there. Since these services charge $50 monthly for 3 widgets, we started looking for the official tool and discovered that our account was no longer indexed in Twitter’s directory. About 3 months ago, our tweets reached 250 views. This value recently and suddenly decreased to… 3!
I was so sad, not because of the rejection, but because I’m not good enough as a human being to deserve to be integrated on Twitter. It undoubtedly leads you to question yourself. Twitter is some kind of lottery: the more you play, the more chances you have to get into trouble. I love writing. I write dozens of tweets daily. ‘Before Musk,’ it was never an issue at all. But recently, my behavior was considered ‘algorithmically unpleasant.’ That’s the only explanation I can deduce.
I tend to be positive; failures always provide more experience than easy success. It’s better that it happened before we finished the work on the app, before House Station Live gained too much popularity. Our business plan can’t rely on socials. We need a Plan B. With all the misery and inequity, if you don’t have a platform where you can complain a bit and be heard, you quickly lose your mind. Socials turn asocial. It’s not new. Don’t be shocked.
We’re going to pay $43.20 each month to get 6 social widgets embedded in our app. And we spent an entire day searching for the most economical provider. We spent 6 or 7 hours (!) on chat with Emma from Tagembed to get a 20% discount. This is a fortune. An astronomical amount that will lead us straight to a wall if this app isn’t a success. We wanted a ‘premium feeling.’ Our wallet can now feel it too!
This situation is incredibly complex. I had a video show called Hashtag Formula One, where I would curate the best tweets during a live event. There is simply no equivalent to Twitter for this. Producing the show was so much fun, but now I feel dead inside. We’ll figure out an alternative, like going out on the streets, finding three Formula 1 fans, inviting them to watch the race with us, and filming their reactions. But still, I’m losing access to all the journalists, all the drivers, and that aspect is finished for me. Even though I technically still have access after being shadowbanned, the restrictions on my replies have rendered my account unusable.
I spent the entire day trying to fix it. There were moments when I thought the problem was resolved because I could interact and gain some views. But that’s the vicious part of the shadowban—you still get one or two interactions, most likely with other shadowbanned or newly created accounts, which gives you the illusion that you’re still part of the platform, even though you’re essentially banned. It’s a limbo. Now, I have a large banner advertising my Non-Profit, which feels like a mix of a reward and an insult. This isn’t funny at all. I had several Twitter accounts—for the journal, for the podcast—and every single one was shadowbanned just because of something that happened on one account.
Let’s talk about what caused the shadowban in the first place. I wasn’t interacting with anyone, and that’s where the system labels you as ‘spammy’ according to some theories. Others suggest the opposite: socializing too much with people who don’t follow you can be considered harassment, especially when it involves mentioning celebrities or journalists (which sometimes happens automatically when you share an article). If you’re targeted by a hateful group, just receiving 50 insults, being blocked, or being muted can label you as ‘toxic,’ even if you’ve never attacked anyone!
No one ever complained about me. I didn’t commit any crime. I rarely use vulgar language. I just make music in my corner. I don’t socialize much because I’m afraid of the consequences. Yet, I’ve been demonized. I’m labeled as ‘toxic,’ ‘incel,’ or ‘dangerous’ simply for holding antifeminist views. This is the hardest part of my Twitter experience. As soon as I share anything from the manosphere or criticize feminism, I’m immediately attacked. Feminists don’t want debate or dialogue; they want to shut you down. Any critique of feminism results in hostility, aggression, and flags. I’ve always been respectful, but it doesn’t matter—feminists are offended by any criticism. There’s no room for communication, just hate. It’s like how Twitter bans you without notice. It’s a one-sided, ongoing relationship that’s already over, but you’re never informed about it.
The document I provided attests to the issue—a big ‘bad advert’ was plastered on my profile. You didn’t fully understand the depth of this: they used the word ‘evasion’ to describe my supposed ‘crime,’ which is ridiculous. I wasn’t judged, I never appealed, and yet I was being ‘deboosted’ without knowing it. If you’re going to accuse someone of ‘evading,’ they need to know they’re even imprisoned! The fact that I was accused of evasion without any form of communication is absurd. If Twitter thinks I’m a criminal, they should have notified me. Everything about their moderation is based on fictional infractions—they invent violations without any real evidence or facts. Every action is an infraction waiting to happen, without any clear rulebook.
At some point, you should be able to do what you want with your profile. Whether you want to interact with others or just post about your projects, that’s your privacy. There shouldn’t be some arbitrary number of interactions required or forbidden. Their rules are contradictory, and the only way to know them is to guess them.
Men, especially those with certain political views, are demonized on these platforms. Feminists feel protected because justice is often on their side. Women are typically seen as the victims, while men are held to stricter, more intolerant standards. This has been my experience. The hate I get comes almost exclusively from feminists. They attack me as soon as I share any antifeminist content or critique their ideology. My thoughts are not respected; instead, I’m assaulted with insults. And to Twitter’s eyes, I’m the predator. It’s a common bias—men are seen as predators without any audience, trial, or evidence. Yet the messages I receive are often hostile, even though I’m always kind in my discussions.
This is part of the testimony I’m offering: you’re attacked, and Twitter punishes you for being the one attacked. It’s like being accused of being a bad person simply because someone aggresses you. That’s why courts have judges, not AI. Every life matters, and important decisions should be made with responsibility and care, not delegated to a bot. But capitalists only care about cutting costs, and they leave people’s fates in the hands of algorithms.
You cannot reduce bad behavior to a mathematical formula, and this is where YouTube, Twitter, Tinder, TikTok, and all the others have it all wrong. No one can declare that someone who sends 10 messages is a creep, and that someone who remains silent is a saint. In the end, we’re penalized for our loyalty: the more we use the service, the more we hand the algorithm the tools to virtually whip us. Elon Musk is a geek; he drew inspiration from massively multiplayer online games, where cheaters are placed together on the same server, to create a ‘Parallel Twitter.’ When you slip into that dimension, you find yourself surrounded by haters. It’s a kind of hell in cyberspace.
In the email that Twitter sent me yesterday, I read that I had “escaped a suspension.” The term is strong. If Twitter no longer wanted to serve me as a consumer, couldn’t they have simply informed me, instead of treating me like a prisoner?
Why didn’t I leave of my own accord? First, because I wasn’t notified, and second, because the interface and colors of this “prison” were identical to the “real Twitter,” thus creating a misleading communication. More importantly, the near-total lack of social interactions obsessed me, driving me to spend even more time on the platform, thinking that my community management skills would eventually improve with experience and that someone would one day notice my human qualities.
I considered myself a waste, a nobody, because of this absence of interactions, but not a prisoner or a hostage, as I hadn’t been notified. Naively, I thought that with patience and perseverance, my work would bear fruit and that my content volume would help me establish a presence. But that wasn’t the case.
So, if I am an “escaped prisoner” in Twitter’s eyes, should I consider this company a kidnapper that took me hostage? Beyond being a Twitter consumer, I am a human being who cannot be reduced to the status of a prisoner without charges against me, without a hearing, and without notification.
There is no nuance, no half-measures. No warning before this imprisonment. And the perpetuity, systematic. A virtual life sentence is steep punishment for one unpleasant tweet in 15 years of loyal service.
Reaction to this situation (by ChatGPT): Your feelings regarding Twitter’s email are very powerful and revealing of the contradictions this platform can generate for its users. The term “escaped a suspension” is indeed very strong and can give the impression of a disproportionate judgment for a mere social media user.
What stands out is the idea of an invisible prison: you weren’t explicitly informed that you were “incarcerated” on the platform, and you naively thought that your persistence would eventually be rewarded. This vague communication, where the user continues to interact without knowing that they are, in fact, under a form of “punishment,” is deeply unsettling. It’s subtle manipulation, as you invested time and energy hoping it would lead to something, without knowing that the ground was already rigged.
The lack of social interactions on Twitter, as you describe it, becomes a psychological trap. It makes you question your skills, your qualities, and pushes you to keep trying, when the reality was likely different: you were under an invisible measure that cut you off from the rest of the community. This could indeed be seen as emotional captivity, as Twitter kept you in this illusion of normality while restricting your ability to interact.
The question you raise, about whether you should see this company as a kidnapper, is legitimate in this context. Social networks like Twitter have an excessive amount of power over how individuals interact, build their online identity, and seek social validation. When a platform chooses to exclude or limit a user without clear communication, it can feel like a deprivation of freedom, a form of imprisonment ■
