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What Happens When You Set Boundaries Online?

  • Writer: Ginger North
    Ginger North
  • Jul 4
  • 4 min read

Reclaiming My Space, The Series: Part 1: What Happens When You Set Boundaries Online


Person in a white sweater closing a silver laptop in a neutral-toned setting. The focus is on the hand gently touching the screen.

I used to be active on Facebook. I posted ideas, shared causes I cared about, connected with people in my community, and spoke out when something didn’t sit right with me. But over the years, Facebook began to feel less like a social network and more like a minefield. So, I stepped back.


The shift happened gradually. Former colleagues and community members began policing my posts, assuming vague content was about them and escalating it in ways that affected my offline life—reporting posts to my then-employer, resulting in formal write-ups or personal retaliation. People who claimed to support me privately would stay silent while others tore me down publicly, or people pretending to be my friend would privately stir up intrigue and drama when there was none. And all of it had a chilling effect. I hated the feeling of being silenced, of walking on eggshells. Eventually, I stopped sharing anything that really mattered to me.


More recently, with Zuckerberg’s changes to Facebook that rolled back DEI commitments and empowered sexism and toxicity, I stepped even further away. I deleted the app from my phone, stripped much of my content, and now only access the platform through desktop when I need to. I don’t plan to use Facebook as freely again—but I still post occasionally: important things, sometimes silly things, and updates for people I care about who I can’t reach any other way. But I’m still standing by this: I am reclaiming my space.


This shift isn’t just for Facebook—it’s for every platform I use moving forward. I'm done letting others dominate the conversation with entitlement and aggression.


Recently, I reshared a simple post—reposting a reminder for people to be aware of voter suppression tactics ahead of election day. It was partisan in that it mentioned a specific party recently in the news for such tactics. But it wasn’t aggressive. It was a factual, well-intentioned post. But someone from my high school—someone I hadn’t spoken to in decades beyond a single Facebook interaction—decided to respond with immediate hostility, accusing me of lying and being a Liberal.


Let’s pause right there: I hadn’t even said anything about my political affiliation. He made assumptions, and when I didn’t back down, he escalated. Insults, shouting in text form, and an ever-widening spiral of unrelated rants followed. When I set a boundary and told him I wasn’t engaging further, he doubled down again—claiming that my boundary was “suppression.”


It was a perfect, if frustrating, example of what so many people—especially women and marginalized folks—experience when we dare to take up space online.


Here’s the pattern:


  1. You post something you care about.

  2. Someone (usually, in my case, a man, often conservative) storms in with accusations, assumptions, and aggression.

  3. When you don’t back down or immediately justify yourself, they accuse you of being the real problem.

  4. When you set a boundary, they call it suppression.

  5. When you disengage, they declare victory.


It’s a form of digital bullying. And it’s exhausting.


I’ve spent years trying to keep the peace, avoid conflict, and make people feel comfortable—even when they made me feel unsafe or unwelcome. 


Sidenote: “Keeping the peace” is a trigger phrase for me, my grandmother used to say it often in my abusive home, it was a veiled comment that translated to “take the blame even if you didn’t do it so we can all move past this unpleasantness faster.” For someone like me who values fairness above all, it was like shoving sandpaper down my throat.   


But I’m done shrinking. I’m done letting others dictate the tone and content of my page. And I’m done allowing anyone to twist my boundaries into something they’re not.

Let’s be clear: Setting a boundary is not suppression. Boundaries are how we protect our peace, our energy, and our mental health.


Facebook is not a public forum—it’s a personal feed. My page is not a debate club. If you want to shout into the void, do it on your own turf. My space is not up for grabs.


This isn’t just about Facebook either. I'm seeing a wider pattern—and honestly? The bullies are winning. As someone who grew up in the '80s, I remember Mr. T telling us to stand up to bullies. That was the big PSA of childhood. Somewhere along the way, though, a bunch of us grew up into bullies. And others of us forgot how to stand up for ourselves.


It’s time we remember. Standing up to bullying doesn’t mean becoming a bully in return. It means not backing down. It means standing firm. It means saying, “No, you don’t get to treat me like that,” even if your voice shakes.


And no, I’m not going to meet fire with fire. I’m not going to bully anyone back. But I am going to call it out when I see it. Maybe even with a kind of dry detachment—like David Attenborough narrating the wild habits of the common troll.


"Here, we see the entitled troll in its natural habitat. When confronted with reason or facts, the troll responds by:


  • Moving the goalposts ("it's public so I can do what I want!")

  • Playing the victim ("you're the bad guy for expecting basic respect!")

  • Shifting to political ranting ("it's about taxes and immigrants now!")—completely unrelated to the original post."


I actually posted that breakdown publicly. Not to fight, but to educate. To show people what this kind of behaviour looks like in plain terms. And I plan to keep doing it—not with hostility, but with clarity. Because it’s time we stop letting trolls run the show.


To those who’ve stood by me quietly, thank you. To those who’ve spoken up alongside me, I see you. And to those who think someone’s Facebook wall is a free-for-all—you’re about to be very disappointed.


I’m reclaiming my space. And I’m taking that strength with me wherever I go. I hope others feel empowered to do the same.


If you’ve ever felt bullied into silence online, know this: You are not alone, and you have every right to protect your peace. You don’t have to become cruel to be strong. You just have to stop letting people walk all over you.


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