Few maladies of our digital epoch are as venomous and vile as the cruelty stitched into the fabric of bullying. Especially loathsome is the vitriol lobbed at individuals based on their outer semblance—a trait as unchosen as the weather, yet far more weaponized in the virtual coliseum of social media.
Melissa Blake, a tenacious scribe and soul of incandescent resilience, found herself in the eye of this storm. After penning a piece for CNN in 2019, she became a target for the slithering tongues of internet hecklers—those who slink in the shadows of anonymity to spew bile without repercussion. One particularly odious YouTuber disseminated her photo like chum in bloodied waters, inciting a digital mob to hurl dehumanizing slanders her way.
Their words were daggers—brutal, banal, and grotesquely cruel. They branded her with bestial epithets: “blob fish,” “whale”—as if her flesh were the measure of her worth. These weren’t merely insults. They were attempts at erasure.
Melissa lives with Freeman-Sheldon syndrome—a rare craniofacial and limb disorder—and in a world obsessed with symmetrical aesthetics, she became an unwilling canvas for societal prejudice. But instead of retreating into the silence that trolls intended to inflict, she answered with a defiant blaze of selfhood.
She tweeted, not with venom, but with verve:
“During the last round of trollgate, people said that I should be banned from posting photos of myself because I’m too ugly. So I’d just like to commemorate the occasion with these 3 selfies …”
That singular post ricocheted across the web like a beacon in fog. Allies, strangers, kindreds unseen, emerged to rally behind her. But Melissa’s story doesn’t rest in a single victorious tweet.
No. She transformed vitriol into vigil. For a full revolution of the sun, she posted a selfie every day—each frame a reclamation of space, a radiant defiance, a mirror that dared the world to see her. Not through the warped lens of cruelty, but as she is: complex, spirited, whole.
Her Instagram audience surged from a modest 7,500 to a staggering 100,000. But more meaningful than metrics was the movement she spurred. Alongside her daily portraits, Melissa unpacked themes often shrouded—disability, dignity, self-expression. As Refinery29 reported, her words cut through like light:
“There was one thing they all had in common: Each selfie truly reflected my personality and who I was. Each was a celebration, and each carried a message.”
During the last round of trollgate, people said that I should be banned from posting photos of myself because I’m too ugly. So I’d just like to commemorate the occasion with these 3 selfies… 📸😉👋🏻 pic.twitter.com/9ZuSYFOtwv
— Melissa Blake (@melissablake) September 7, 2019
She pressed on:
“It’s a way of taking back my power and painting a more accurate picture of disability. Because the one we have now? It’s more 1950 than 2020 — full of misconceptions that often only show disabled people as drains on society. On the contrary, we lead full lives and I’m so proud that I was able to show that for an entire year.”
Her defiance was not rooted in venom but in visibility. She didn’t just survive the onslaught—she thrived in its wake, planting flags of identity where others tried to bury her. Each selfie was a hymn, a banner, a retort dressed in quiet confidence.
To Melissa—should your gaze ever drift upon these words—know that your courage reverberates far beyond pixels. You’ve transfigured cruelty into courage, marginalization into momentum. Thank you for showing us that humanity isn’t found in symmetry or standard, but in the unflinching embrace of one’s truth.
Your light outshines the cowardice of faceless bullies. And for that, the world is far more luminous.
Share this article if you’re proud of Melissa, and if you’re praying for a world where bullying no longer exists.