The social media sensation

It's pixelated-heartbreaking.

A friend sent me an Instagram post and I wish she hadn't.

It reminded me that I'm not yet a recovered addict. Because it filled me with an old familiar despair — the kind that in the past, only one thing could salve.

It’s filmed by a ‘badass mom’ and posted to the account, PDX Real, which proudly serves up the tagline, ‘Community engaged reporting.’

In the video, she ‘engages’ with a handful of addicts encamped on a sidewalk in Portland, Oregon. Apparently, what lit this crusader’s torch was the fact that these sad wretches were getting their fix near a school — which, of course, is never okay.

“Doing drugs in a school zone is going to get you a felony,” Badass Mom tells them. “You guys got two minutes to leave or I’m calling bike squad. I’ve got them on speed dial.”

Of course, she does. And, accustomed to being scourged from the public eye, the group starts packing up their gear.

“You can do your fucking drugs,” she adds. “Just not in front of the kids. It’s the wrong thing to do.”

She hits all the right notes for her audience: “I’m protecting the kids. This is a school zone.”

“I’m a mama.”

You get the picture.

She treats them like cockroaches, chasing them back into a hole behind the fridge. Away, you mouldy rogues! Away!

The balance of power is obscenely lopsided. On one side there are about half a dozen humans splayed out on the pavement, stoned and spent. On the other is a well-fed social media influencer hurling thunderbolts of virtue and indignation.

The children's champion! And if brandishing the Sword of Virtue isn't enough, a woman from one of the houses asks her if she needs help.

No, Badass Mom replies, she's got being a massive bullying asshole covered, thanks. Besides, she's making content.

But just in case things do get hairy, the ‘documentarian’ is packing mace. And, as one man learns, she has an extremely itchy trigger finger.

That foolhardy addict dares give her the finger. After telling her over and over again to get camera out of his face, he even picks up some debris to fling at her.

Bad move. Badass Mom gives him an ‘Extreme Mace-over. (Homeless person edition)

Later, for an added dash of vindictiveness, she posts his face on the account.

Now, just imagine how ugly things would have gotten if she had speed-dialed the cops. Talk about piling on. Forget mace. They have guns. That guy was lucky to retreat behind a dumpster half blind with a severe skin irritation.

And guess who has the privilege of being able to make that 911 call. Certainly not the sad sacks scraping themselves off the sidewalk. Somehow, I don't think officers would be offering much in the way of mediation between the two parties. In fact, I'd wager the abominable woman who did all the filming, harassing and MACING will never know what a uniformed knee to the throat feels like.

That's why the addicts listlessly collect their possessions and split. They know the score.

Addicts get boots and cuffs. Bullies with a social media account get hearts and likes.

Their crime on that day was the same as every other day. Being poor, generationally disadvantaged, traumatized and addicted in public. In this case, as Badass Mom bugles, they were within eyeshot of a school (where students have never ever explored every filthy, nasty orifice of the Internet.)

To be clear, no one should be doing drugs around children. But ambushing people with a camera, ordering them to pack up and macing them if they don’t — and then publishing the whole sordid affair on social media for an audience is sickeningly cynical.

Think about it. A tremendously privileged woman, with the full weight of society at her back, meets people at the very opposite end of the spectrum — vulnerable, traumatized humans harming only themselves in their bid to cope with their condition.

She squeezes the only value out of them they have left. She turns them into villains. And then she turns those villains into ‘likes’.

Welcome to social media capitalism.

At least, I expected this woman to be pilloried in the comment section — exploiting people like that! I was actually excited to attend her crucifixion on Instagram.

Holy shit. 132,000 followers.

Holier shit. They fucking love her.

It's like Bizarro world, where our values are exactly upside down.

When the power dynamic is tilted so dramatically, you might expect people to take pity on the exploited party. Maybe even condemn this emoji trafficker.

“She’s a hero!” writes one follower.

“Wow! She’s a very brave woman,” gushes another.

And another: “Thank you for standing up for the protection of children.”

Everybody loves this guy’s comment: “Just spray them with bear spray each and every time. Do not record it. Wear a mask.”

Badass Mom makes monsters of us all.

This is why I'm not on social media. Elfster notwithstanding. I prefer to imagine my world populated only by my family and the people who read this blog.

In fact, I need to believe in that kind of world. This society's inverted values, its casual cruelties, how it encourages people to treat addicts as wicked beasts — even rewards them for it — weighs heavy on a heart.

It's painful to be reminded that this is indeed the world we live in.

Imagine what her fans would think if they ever came across this blog. We live in a world where, depending on the agenda, compassionate content can easily be framed as objectionable content.

What if a child should read these confessions? Heaven help them if they're persuaded to view addicts as human beings.

Which reminds me of a pretty good reason not to give in to despair and reach for a Crackynol 1000. You're here. We're literally, on the same page. We can probably both identity the real beasts in this story. And it probably makes us both heartsick.

How much hope do I have for this world? Let me count subscribers to this blog.

In the meantime, I beg you, dear readers. Go forth and repopulate the Earth. The first batch of humanity turned out all wrong.

As for me, I'll do whatever I can from this end.

“Your goal, you should have one, is to change people's opinions,” the friend, who sent me the video, wrote.

She's right. It's the least I can do. Maybe it's why I became an addict in the first place. To lend my voice to the losing side. And just maybe, if this tiny choir sings a little louder and for a little longer, we might convince people to change their tune. To show not contempt, but compassion for the downtrodden.

At the very least, we'll have sung our hearts out. And in this society, that can only be a blessing.