The Evolution Of Hate

Years ago when I was operating as DC Bachelor, my full name and even “Roosh” was a secret. If people saw me in the street they’d ask if I was “DCB.” When getting out of DC became my most important goal, I changed the name of the site to Roosh V, a generic title that wouldn’t be dependent on my location.

A lot of newbie creators who put out of their work think getting haters is a sign of accomplishment that suggests their content is of high quality. I, too, thought this. I thought it was fun that all these anonymous morons were foaming at my writing. What I didn’t realize at the time was that these amateurs were the seed for more determined haters that fit more the personality profile of obsessive stalker.

There was a gossip blogger in DC who started writing posts about me around 2006. Let’s just call him Big Gay Rob. He was like the Perez Hilton of the city. He started emailing people for my full name and place of employment. Eventually he got my name. He published it and my heart stopped. Thanks to Google, for all eternity my birth name would be associated with my writings. Not long after, he found out about my previous employer and suggested people call them to say that I’m an awful human being. He went on a tear to reveal the names of the most prominent DC bloggers at that time. There was also another gossip blog allied with him that said I was a rapist who had every STD known to man and simian.

By the time my public information was released, I was a few months away from quitting my job and heading to South America for my first big trip. But what would happen if I wanted to get another job? There would be absolutely no way that a corporation would hire me after doing a simple Google search.

Big Gay Rob made the decision for me: my writing would become my life. Failure was not an option. I had to succeed or be resigned to bartender jobs.

The next couple of years were hard. I hemorrhaged money and was always on a tight budget, having even to resort to stealing drinks in bars. I also encountered difficulties in my travels that I hadn’t expected, but I kept writing and putting out books that I thought other guys would like. Thankfully, they have rewarded me with their purchases. When Big Gay Rob published my name I wanted to crush his skull, but today if I see him I’d shake his hand. There was opportunity in the crisis he created for me that took a few years to germinate.

Sharing personal information is step one in the hater manual. If you are someone who tells the truth, regardless of the subject matter, it will question people’s beliefs and world view. They will hate your guts for it and become motivated to tear you apart. Publishing your name, home address, or private pictures is their first method of attack.

If you’re still standing after getting outed, and show no signs of quitting, step two is to make up lies to tarnish your reputation. The main lie used on me is that I’m a rapist who consciously spreads STDs to women. Game denialists say that I sleep with prostitutes. Recently I read the story of a hater contacting all the female Facebook friends of a certain PUA saying he has STDs, takes advantage of women, and so on.

I was not personally prepared for step three, which is to get the authorities involved. Now I must stress that I’m pissed at myself for letting a hater get leverage on me, but it happened so I had to deal with it.

In my European trip I misunderstood the Schengen tourist visa rules until I had already overstayed. I was aware that I may be hit with a fine or an outright ban for 1-3 years, a penalty I was mentally preparing for. While in the Baltics, towards the end of my trip, a hater from Estonia put up a web site that said I was a horrible sex tourist who was staying in Europe “illegally.” He linked to posts that detailed my travel and game strategy. He went on to spam Reddit, Couchsurfing, Stormfront, and the commenting sections of many Estonian media sites. The ensuing traffic I got from Estonia was ten times what I’d normally get. The problem is that he also put up phone numbers and email addresses to the police in Tartu and Tallinn, the two biggest cities in Estonia.

Within two weeks of arriving in Tartu, a brigade of Estonians went online and announced places where they had seen me (one guy even correctly guessed the apartment company I was staying in). By the fourth week I was recognized every night I went out, more than I ever was in my home base of Washington DC. While I was nervous of police involvement, since getting deported would mean a definite travel ban, the bigger effect was that I couldn’t game in peace. Too many people knew me and were “warning” all the girls that I was a dangerous rapist who spread monkey STDs to pureblood European women. Many girls were curious about me, but their friends would invariably cockblock by saying I was “dangerous.” I remember one girl telling me, “There is no way I’ll let you leave with my friend!” I don’t like playing the race card, but if I was a blonde Swedish guy I wonder if the reaction would have been the same.

One night in the club, towards the end of my stay in Tartu, I noticed two girls looking at me and talking. It was obvious that one of them knew me and was telling the other about who I was. The girl who knew me was massively overweight. I ignored them.

At the bar, another guy recognized me. I bought him a shot because I was in a good mood. Eventually I started talking to a blonde girl. Things were going well until I got a tap on the shoulder from the bouncer. He ordered me to come with him to the front.

There were two policeman in full gear waiting for me. I figured that this was it, I’m getting kicked out of the EU, short of fulfilling my sex mission in the Baltics. The cops asked me for my ID but I said it’s in my room, which was true. I felt heavy vibes as they briefly discussed what to do, but I maintained the best poker face I could.

They asked for my name and I give my full name, not Roosh. They asked me to write it down and I did. One of the officers looked at my name and squinted his eyes, like he was trying to figure things out. They asked me where I was from and my birth date. The guy I bought a shot for came to my defense, saying I’m a “good guy.” The blonde girl also watched with a concerned look on her face. They had a small conference and said that I’m not the guy they are looking for, thanked me for my cooperation, and left.

My guess is that the obese girl called the cops on me and said that my name is “Roosh.” If I gave that name, the game would have been over and there would be no Bang Estonia (currently in development). I went back to the blonde that I was talking to, who was much warmer to me perhaps because of the “danger” factor, but I figured it was best to leave in case the cops figured out that I was the same guy. I went to another bar, where I was recognized again by yet another girl.

I’ll be the first to admit that the episode was exciting, but the benefits of anonymity cannot be overstated. I slipped out of Tartu and went to Tallinn for a week where I went unnoticed despite a last ditch effort by the haters.

A couple months ago some guy wrote about how he saw fake “Wanted” posters in his neighborhood. There was a picture of a black guy and under that his full name and number with a message saying he was a liar and cheater who hurts women. It became clear to me where the future of hate is going. The haters, which in our case are feminists, liberals, and beta males, will try to use government institutions to get you to stop doing whatever they don’t want you to do. But since their accusations are usually based on lies or half-truths, I liken it to amateur terrorism. It’s only the recent case where they were correct in that I was overstaying that they could have caused a big problem for me.

Big Gay Rob had won. He gave me a couple grey hairs. He also made me more committed to my writing. He helped me think of the big picture in how I could make a living from my work. My Estonian haters have also won. They made my time in Estonia more stressful than it should’ve been. They probably cost me a notch or two. They also made me realize that if I want to write a guide about a country, I can’t announce going there. They taught me how to do my work in complete peace and anonymity, which I was successfully able to do the past three months in Ukraine.

For every attack there is a countermeasure that makes you less prone to further attacks. I’m sure one day the haters will cook something else up for me, and when it happens I’ll be ready for them.

Related Posts For You