The Glitch in the Utopia: A Post-Mortem on Influencer Narcissism and the "Malu" Economy

In an age where our digital lives are constantly being harvested for metrics and our emotions are treated as data points for exploitation, I am choosing to reclaim my agency by taking my mandate for "humane technology" as a personal survival strategy. Technology, in its truest form, should be a tool that elevates our humanity and enhances our autonomy, yet we often find ourselves trapped in algorithmic cycles that breed anxiety and erode our fundamental dignity. When a digital interaction—whether with a platform or the person behind a screen—ceases to be a source of growth and instead becomes a mechanism for psychological suppression and the shifting of misery, I am no longer willing to play the part of the compliant "follower." Cutting these ties is not an act of spite or a "troll" manoeuvre; it is a calculated act of self-preservation, a refusal to allow my presence to be reduced to a disposable statistic, and a commitment to standing on my own two feet in the digital city.

Introduction: The Mute Button as a Weapon

It started with a simple question, a search for closure that felt necessary for my own peace of mind. "Jenica marah saya kah?" (Is Jenica angry with me?)

To the average observer, this might look like a trivial comment in a fast-moving TikTok live stream. But to me—a neurodivergent person, a paying supporter, and a human being seeking clarity—it was an attempt to bridge a sudden, confusing silence. I had receipts. I knew my Direct Message had been seen. Yet, the response I received was a masterclass in gaslighting: "Oh, I didn't read it." And then, when I persisted, seeking the "holistic" connection she projected to her audience, the gavel came down.

Jenica muted me.

That silence was deafening. It was not just a moderation tool being used; it was a rejection of my reality. It was the moment the mask slipped, revealing that the "kind," "holistic," and "welcoming" persona was actually a carefully curated product, and I—by asking for accountability—had become a defect in that product. This incident was not isolated. It was a symptom of a much larger, systemic pathology within the influencer industry, one involving Narcissistic Injury, the weaponisation of shame (malu), and what I call the "Misery Transfer Loop."

Part I: The Anatomy of Narcissistic Deflection

We often speak of influencers as "creators," but perhaps "curators of the self" is more accurate. In my interaction with Jenica, I witnessed the fragility of that curation.

When I pointed out the discrepancy—that she had seen my message but claimed she hadn't—I wasn't trying to attack her. I was trying to validate my own perception. As someone who values truth over "blind faith," I needed to know where I stood. But to a person operating with high narcissistic traits (or simply protecting a narcissistic brand image), a demand for truth feels like a threat.

Psychologists call this a "Narcissistic Injury." By holding up a mirror to her behaviour—showing her that she was ignoring a loyal supporter—I threatened her self-image as the "benevolent streamer." She couldn't integrate that flaw ("I ignored Kalvin") into her perfect persona. So, she deflected. She lied about reading the DM to avoid the "emotional labour" of a real conversation. And when I didn't accept the lie, she eliminated the threat entirely by muting me.

This is the cruelty of the "parasocial" dynamic. They invite us in with "love bombing"—welcoming us by name, thanking us for gifts, making us feel special. But the moment we stop being sources of "Narcissistic Supply" (praise, money, blind loyalty) and become complex human beings with needs, we are discarded. My history of unfollowing and blocking—a coping mechanism I use to manage sensory overload and feelings of isolation—was reinterpreted by her not as a struggle, but as an attack. She didn't see the human; she saw a "troublesome user" messing up her metrics.

Part II: The Systemic Machine—Why Utopia is Mandatory

It is easy to blame the individual, but as an activist, I know we must look at the system. Why did Jenica feel the need to mute me so quickly? Why is there no room for "heavy" conversations?

The answer lies in the exploitative economy of live streaming.

Streamers like Jenica are not truly independent. They are often beholden to Multi-Channel Networks (MCNs) and the ruthless algorithms of TikTok. These entities take massive cuts of the revenue—sometimes up to 50% or more—leaving the creator in a state of constant financial anxiety. To survive, they must maintain a "high-vibe" utopia.

• The "Good Vibes" Imperative: The algorithm favours retention and gifting. Complex emotions, conflict, or accountability stops the "dopamine loop." If I bring up "closure" or "feeling ignored," I am technically "bad for business." I am interrupting the flow of money.
• Sanitised Audiences: MCNs instruct creators to aggressively curate their chat. They want a sanitised audience of "yes-men." A user like me—who asks questions, who demands rights, who refuses to mask their neurodivergence—is viewed as a liability.

So, when she muted me, she wasn't just protecting her ego; she was protecting the business model. She was hiding the exploitative reality of the industry behind a wall of toxic positivity.

Part III: The Misery Transfer Loop

This leads to a darker realisation. These influencers are miserable. They are burnt out, exploited by their MCNs, and terrified of irrelevance. But they cannot lash out at their bosses (the MCNs) or their landlord (TikTok). Those entities hold too much power.

So, they engage in "Misery Transfer."

They take the powerlessness they feel in their professional lives and regain a sense of control by exerting power over their viewers. When Jenica muted me, or when other streamers mock their audiences, they are venting their systemic frustration on the only people they can hurt without consequence: us.

I became the vessel for her stress. My valid request for a refund—a retrieval of the investment I made into a connection that turned out to be fake—was met with hostility because I was breaking the script. I was supposed to be the passive consumer of her misery, not an active agent demanding justice.

Part IV: "Sudah-Sudah Lah Tu"—The Weaponisation of Shame

I remember discussing this with another streamer, Bvie. When I told her about other streamers muting me and my subsequent request for a refund, the reaction was telling. The community defense mechanism kicked in: "Eee sudah sudah lah tu kau minta refund tu... tak payah minta refund." (Enough is enough, stop asking for a refund... you don't need to ask for it.)

In the Malaysian context, this is the weaponisation of "Malu" (Shame).

They try to reframe a transactional dispute as a moral failing on my part. They want me to internalise the idea that asking for my money back is "shameful" or "petty." They want me to believe that my financial contributions were "gifts" given out of unconditional love, rather than payments for interaction and recognition.

But this "shame" is a fraud. It is a tool used by the privileged to silence the exploited.

• The Streamer Solidarity: Streamers defend each other because if they admit I am right—that a viewer deserves a refund when they are mistreated—their entire house of cards collapses. They are protecting their guild.
• Impact over Intention: They argue from intention ("I didn't mean to ignore you"). I argue from impact ("I was silenced, isolated, and financially drained"). As an activist, I know that justice is measured by impact. The impact of their actions was harm; therefore, the contract is void.

Refusing to feel shame is my first act of rebellion. I reserve the right to a refund not because I am "petty," but because I am a stakeholder in this economy. If my data is being harvested, if my attention is being monetised, and if my money is being taken, I have rights.

Part V: The Right to the Digital City

There is a voice in my head—sometimes echoed by society—that says, "If you don't like it, just leave. Maybe this platform isn't for you."

I reject that.

As a disabled person, a neurodivergent thinker, and a humane-tech activist, I have what sociologists might call the "Right to the Digital City." Social media is the modern public square. To tell a person with mental health challenges or social difficulties to "get off the app" if they can't handle the "unspoken rules" is exclusionary. It is akin to telling a wheelchair user to stay home because the building has stairs.

I have a right to participate in the social web. I have a right to exist here as myself—with my need for direct communication, my specific sensitivities, and my refusal to engage in fake pleasantries. If the platform's influencers cannot handle a user who is "real," that is a failure of their inclusivity, not a failure of my character.

Part VI: The Birth of kalvin0x8d0

This experience has hurt me. I cannot deny the pain of rejection, the sting of being muted by someone I supported. But that pain has catalysed a necessary transformation.

I am leaving the old identity behind. I am severing ties with the Jenicas and the Bvies of the world. I am emerging as kalvin0x8d0.

This new handle is not just a username; it is a firewall.

1. Digital Sovereignty: I am reconfiguring my digital presence. This new account will be "hardened." I will poison the recommendation algorithms, aggressively filtering out the "live stream drama" and the emotional vampires. I will use the tools of the platform to serve my interests—tech, advocacy, hard rock—rather than being served up as data fodder for influencers.
2. Radical Detachment: I am adopting a policy of "Zero Trust" for parasocial relationships. I will no longer offer blind faith. I will interact, but I will not invest my self-worth.
3. Humane-Tech in Practice: I am taking my belief in "humane technology" seriously. Technology should lift us up, not make us anxious. If an interaction lowers my dignity, I will cut it off—not out of spite, but out of self-preservation.

Conclusion: The Refund is Dignity

They can keep the change, perhaps. But they cannot keep my silence.

My demand for a refund was never really about the currency; it was a demand for the recognition of my humanity. It was a statement that I am not just a number in a dashboard or a wallet to be drained. I am a person who deserves closure, respect, and truth.

The "utopia" they are selling is a lie, built on the backs of silent, paying fans and exhausted, exploited creators. I am stepping out of that cycle. I am claiming my space, my voice, and my right to be here—unmuted, unblocked, and unafraid.

kalvin0x8d0 is online.