Dear Editor,

We live in a world where words travel faster than light — where a rumour can reach a thousand people before the truth has even opened its eyes. Social media has given everyone a voice, but somewhere along the way, it also gave birth to something darker: the rise of fake pages, hidden accounts, and anonymous profiles created not to connect, but to attack.

Behind these masks are real people — people with names, faces, families, and fears — who have chosen to hide behind screens to throw stones. They create false profiles, spread lies, twist truths, and plant seeds of doubt in the minds of others. They whisper from the shadows, then watch as chaos unfolds in the open.

It’s easy to be cruel when no one knows who you are. It’s easy to point fingers, accuse, and judge when your name isn’t attached to the words. It’s easy to destroy someone’s reputation when you don’t have to face their eyes.

But have these people ever stopped to ask themselves why they hide? If what they say were honest, necessary, or brave — would they not stand behind it proudly?

Anonymity was once meant to protect privacy, to give people the freedom to speak truth in places where their safety was at risk. But somewhere along the line, it became a weapon for the weak. It became a way to attack without consequence — to hurt others while pretending it’s “just social media.”

And while the hidden attacker walks away untouched, the person on the other end of the rumor feels the real wounds.

Words may be invisible, but they cut deep. They can isolate someone, ruin their name, and make them question their worth.

When lies spread, people begin to retaliate — but often toward the wrong targets. They lash out at the visible faces, the ones who are real and reachable, while the true culprit remains unseen, laughing behind their screen. The pain gets passed around like a disease, and soon, entire communities begin to turn on each other — all because of a lie born in the dark.

So what drives someone to create these fake pages? Jealousy. Insecurity. Anger.

Or maybe a kind of emptiness that finds relief in seeing someone else suffer.

But here’s the truth: cruelty born from anonymity doesn’t make a person powerful. It exposes their weakness. It shows that they need to hide to feel strong.

You can’t build a meaningful life behind a fake name. You can’t destroy someone else’s peace without eventually losing your own.

Karma has a quiet way of balancing things — maybe not instantly, but surely. The same energy used to hurt will always circle back.

And to those who these shadows have attacked — know this: lies do not define you. Truth has a way of outliving gossip. The people who truly know you won’t be fooled by noise. And those who spread it? They’re fighting battles you can’t see — battles with their own unhappiness, guilt, and self-worth.

So instead of chasing rumours, choose peace. Instead of retaliating, choose integrity. The world doesn’t need more bitterness — it needs more people willing to speak with honesty, even when it’s uncomfortable, and to show their faces when they do.

Anonymity gives cowards a voice, but courage gives the world a conscience.

When you speak truthfully, with your name and your heart visible, you’re already stronger than those who hide.

Because in the end, the loudest noise always fades — but integrity echoes forever.

Daphne Talei Tafaogalupe Keil