Brandy Lien Worrall-Soriano

I normally don’t post comments—good or bad—from anyone, but I feel this is a perfect illustration and actually an excellent lesson/learning experience as well. In the wee hours of the night, as I  was studying for midterms, I got a notification that I had to moderate a comment on my latest blog post, “Into Existence.” 

Here’s the comment, with the email address included (I will explain my rationale for the inclusion later): From nancy.hesby@yahoo.com, 10:36 PM: “As usual, you are very negative and completely self absorbed. Your poor children can’t even graduate high school without some self pitying diatribe from you.”

Of course, when I first read this, I admit I was hurt and confused, and even shocked. Then I burst out laughing because whoever this individual is, they obviously have no idea about the unbreakable bond between my children and me, nor do they realize that my kids and I share our artwork—whether that’s writing, visual art, gaming storyboard, or music—on a whim or scheduled. That’s how we’ve been since they could walk.

The timing of this comment could not have been more perfect because my youngest had confided in me yesterday before school about some microaggressions and was asking me how to deal with them. Having a plethora of invisible disabilities and being mixed race, I’ve spent a lifetime building my toolbox and in fact provided her a real-life example of how I had dealt with a microaggression in my biology class the previous day. Bottom line, I told her, you straighten up, look the person in the eye, and without judgment, you tell your story as a way of educating. My late father taught me this very lesson early on in life, when I’d experienced racism on the first day of kindergarten.

Thus. Bullies—even cyber ones—do not like to be called out. I don’t know exactly who this person is—for some reason, I picture Santa in drag with bad collagen filler, bleached blonde hair, with an Eastern European accent (it makes the bully seem even more ridiculous, which look, the bully is fucking schtupid, in the British pronunciation—and the only filling this mama will ever need is pie lol). Many times, they are textbook narcissists who crave attention, gaslight the hell out of everyone, lie their asses off (it’s pathological—they can’t help themselves), and bully their way through life while blaming everyone for the the bullying—and best of all, they hide in plain sight. They make themselves out to be victims while creating victims out of everyone else. So best way to deal with these sorry-ass troglodytes? CALL THEM OUT. And that is why I include this person’s email. No, I did not approve this comment on my piece, which was my commencement song to my children. This comment was an attempt to bully me, and it bears no merit on anything I had said.

However, I tried to reach out to the person, who had made the comment because I felt they were hurting, and that clearly I had personally done them wrong in some fashion. But the email had bounced. Is this person really *Nancy Hesby*? Or did this sad, pained individual just choose some random person and attach an email to her name, in an attempt to hurt me, not knowing that I have survived a hell of a LOT more than this sorry-ass paragraph and therefore couldn’t even be dinged by this? In any case, I responded:

“It’s actually a pity—and sad—that YOU view my piece in this light because it is meant to be one of hope and faith after all that we, as a family, have endured all these years. So in the end, your read is truly totally ignorant. 

‘As usual…,’ why do you lurk in the loneliness of the Internet and despise my expression of how I’m trying to regain my life and have gratitude for moments big and small? I feel sorry for you, and I pray you find help, peace, solace, and serenity. 

Sending you light and love, Brandy Liên Worrall-Soriano”

Unsurprisingly, the message came back undeliverable. 

Well, “Nancy,” if you’re reading this, I wish you all the best, as I’ve said. Please stop being a lonely troll. I’m not here for that, and you know it.