This Is Not Just a Doodle

You didn’t just scribble over a photo.

You drew a target.

You took the image of a real girl—a child—and desecrated it with violence. You covered her in metaphorical blood. You sent a message: She is nothing. She is disposable. She is hated.

You knew what you were doing.

And don’t even pretend it was a joke.

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Hate Is a Choice. You Made Yours.

There is a word for what you did: dehumanisation.

It’s what people do before they commit acts of cruelty. Before they gang up. Before they destroy.

And it always starts the same way—by erasing the humanity of the person they’ve chosen to hurt.

You joined a hate group with eight others. You added a deceased  girl to that group—one who knew exactly what bullying felt like. And then, as if that weren’t enough, you bled red ink all over a young girl’s face like it was entertainment.

What does that make you?

A follower?

A coward?

Or something worse?

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Do You See Yourself Yet?

The truth is, this is no longer about my daughter’s shoes. Or her voice. Or whether she corrected a spelling error. You don’t even know what you hate her for anymore.

You just hate her.

Because someone else told you to.

And that makes you small.

That makes you easy to control.

That makes you someone who would deface a photo, not because it made you feel brave, but because it made you feel like you belonged.

But here’s the lesson:

If your place in a group is earned through cruelty, then you were never accepted to begin with. You were used.

And now you’ve got a stain on your conscience that not even time will erase.

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A Girl Bled for Real. And You Still Drew Red.

Melody.

She died five weeks ago.

She lived through trauma that none of you could bear to speak of when she was alive—and now you’ve dragged her ghost into a hate group. What kind of person does that?

My daughter stood at her funeral with real tears, real loss, and real grief in her heart.

You?

You made a spectacle of yourself, and then you used her name in a group chat meant to destroy someone else.

You didn’t just cross a line.

You incinerated it.

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What You Will Remember

There will come a night when you lie awake, older than you are now, and you will think of that photo.

You will remember the peace sign.

The face of a girl you hated for no reason.

The scribbles.

The blood you painted on her cheeks.

And the way your stomach turned when you realised—

You were the villain.

That moment will find you.

And it will stay.

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Learn This Now. Before It’s Too Late.

Because maybe you’re still redeemable.

Maybe you’re still a child who made a terrible choice and needs to make it right.

But if you don’t?

If you let this kind of hate define you?

Then you are exactly what you made my daughter out to be:

Unrecognisable.

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