The Unsafe Zone

An Unusual Encounter

      It was an unusual night, footsteps echoing at every bus stop. We were strangers with our own stories,  sharing the same route daily yet knowing nothing of one another. We faced dawn together, battled daily tasks, and disappeared into the anonymity of the city. Perhaps we crossed paths online, hidden behind usernames.

     Sweat-drenched bodies packed the bus, each hoping for a seat to ease aching legs. Hands moved in  unison, scrolling through phones, leaping from one social media platform to another. I was one of many, killing time in the stuffy bus, when a notification disrupted my routine.

     "Please help me," read the brief message from Marsinah's Instagram account.

     Startled, I responded quickly.

     "What's wrong?"

     "Sorry to bother you, but what kind of community is this? I'm afraid I got the wrong person," she replied timidly.

     "It's a labor community," I said.

     "Sorry, I thought it was a community for women, protecting women."

     "We're a labor and women's community," I reassured her.

     Anxiety lingered as the conversation abruptly ended, her messages left unanswered. I wondered if she doubted us, hesitant to trust strangers from social media. 

     Sighing, I reflected on similar messages from those seeking solace, some turning into ongoing conversations and support groups.

     That night, I walked home, hoping she was okay. Reaching my small rented room, I was greeted by my cat. After tidying up, I played with her, then took a cold shower to wash away the day's fatigue.

     It was an unusual night at the end of March, filled with tiredness yet rich in meaning. It concluded with an unanswered cry for help, but at least my body could rest, sharing in the collective exhaustion of the city.

 

Sharing Feelings in the Virtual Space

     The next day, April began, a month heralding May Day and the fight for shorter working hours. I started  my morning with a moment of meditation, aligning my breath with the universe. Afterward, I tended to my simple routines: cleaning my room and playing with Anabul, my cat.

     At 11am, a message appeared on IG from the same person who had reached out the previous night, saying, "Yes, yesterday I had a problem. I didn't know how to solve it. But thank God, now I have made peace."

     Perplexed, I offered my WhatsApp number, sensing there was more to her story.

     Days passed in a flurry of preparations for May Day. Ten days later, another WhatsApp message came  from Maya, the woman who had reached out before. That night, our conversation revealed a troubling tale.

     Maya had met Andi on Facebook on February 10, 2023. They quickly moved to WhatsApp, where Andi's warmth captivated her. Divorced and lonely, Maya found herself drawn to his affection. Within days, she was buying him phone credit and, under his manipulative influence, sending intimate photos. Andi then demanded her Facebook account and password, which she naively provided.

     Maya's story left me shuddering. She had spent IDR 1.6 million on Andi and was being blackmailed with her photos. He had even shared them on her hacked account.

     "Did he threaten you with those photos?" I asked.

     "Yes, sis. I've spent IDR 1.6 million. I'm mentally exhausted. My children are affected," she replied.

     We decided to reclaim her FB account. Maya shared that many women on IG had similar experiences. According to Safenet, there were 250 reports of such incidents in the first quarter of 2023 alone.

     "First, let's get your FB account back," I urged.

     "Yes, sis, please help. I feel like I'm losing my mind. My family is judging me," Maya continued.

     I suggested she see a psychologist, but she mixed up the message, thinking it was about reclaiming her account.

     "To reclaim your FB account, we need a detailed chronology," I clarified.

    Maya agreed, promising to write it down despite her busy schedule as a domestic worker. Her children were her motivation to endure the hardship and societal judgment. 

     "People around me judge me, sis. Especially my parents," Maya lamented.

     Her parents blamed her for being gullible, adding to her shame. I advised her to distance herself from their negativity.

     "Yes, sis. It's better not to stay at my parents' house in my village. Especially since I'm a widow," she said.

 

*** 

 

     As I walked home, the barking dogs and the fading twilight framed my thoughts about Maya's struggles. Her depression led to outbursts at her children, mirroring the abuse she suffered from her parents. Her self-esteem was shattered by Andi's manipulations, and she felt terrorized by lewd messages from men who had seen her photos.

     That night, Maya sent her chronology. We planned to report to the OGBV complaint hotline and seek counseling. She expressed gratitude for my support, igniting a glimmer of hope in her voice.

     "Tomorrow, sis, let's send the report," she wrote.

     "Yes, sis. I want to get better. But I don't have any money," she replied, clinging to hope.

     Maya's last message arrived as night deepened. I lay in my room, soothed by the starry sky. I closed my eyes, accepting the noisy thoughts as companions.

     "It's just an unusual night," I whispered to myself, embracing the solitude and finding peace in the quiet darkness.

 

No Soul is Weak, It's Just Hurt

     The weight of a furry creature pressing against my body startled me awake. It was six in the morning, and the noisy voices that haunted my nights had finally faded. I had grown accustomed to their presence, accepting them as part of life. They were like guests who came and went, never needing to be expelled.

     Understanding the turmoil within me helped me empathize with Maya’s plight. Her fear and anxiety  resonated with me, even though they were invisible wounds that could not be easily explained. One  morning, Maya sent me a fearful message. 

     "The perpetrator threatened to destroy my family. I just want my account back," she wrote.

     I reassured her, "The identity that needs protection is the victim's, not the perpetrator's."

     As Maya slowly opened up, we reported the perpetrator to the OGBV complaint hotline. Gaining her trust wasn’t easy; she had been deceived before and was wary of becoming a victim again.

     Maya’s story was not unique. Nabila from Safenet shared how syndicates repeatedly trapped victims. Lack of digital security knowledge made women vulnerable to various forms of online violence. Maya, a domestic helper with limited access to the outside world, was one such victim. She had little time to  explore the capabilities of her phone, but now she needed to learn for her counseling session.

     I guided Maya through the process of filling out a counseling registration form, explaining each step. She hesitated, worried about the cost, but eventually agreed to pay the discounted fee. We practiced using Zoom, a new experience for her, and prepared for the session.

 

*** 

 

     The next morning, Maya had her counseling session. Despite minor signal issues, she emerged calmer. "The counselor understood my situation and gave me support," she said.

     Maya didn’t need another session immediately but knew to block any further threats. While the legal  system offered some protection, fear and lack of family support made reporting difficult for her. "I need time to regain my family's trust," she explained.

     Grateful for the help she received, Maya just wanted her Facebook account back and the perpetrator out  of her life. As we approached International Labor Day, we were connected by the universe, united in our wounded souls. Empathy and attention, often eroded by the fast pace of life, were what we needed to heal. In the end, you don’t have to be close to someone to be their healer. A little attention and empathy can make all the difference.

 

Seizing Personal Accounts, Capturing Freedom

     Two weeks had passed since we reported Maya's case to the OGBV complaint hotline, and still, we  hadn't received any response. Until one day, we decided to send an email inquiring about the status of our complaint. To our surprise, our complaint had been mixed up with another client's. The good news was that we were able to connect with the complaint service provider and schedule a discussion via Zoom. During the discussion, Maya was advised to be patient as the process of reclaiming her account wouldn't be quick. The initial step involved reporting to the platform owner, Facebook, stating that her personal account had been hijacked. However, the platform owner usually verifies if the account was indeed forcefully taken. Since Maya had voluntarily handed over her account and password, there was no evidence of coercion.

     Maya fell silent for a moment, her hopes seemingly dashed, although there were still many avenues to  explore. The last resort was to confront the perpetrator and ask him not to distribute Maya's personal  photos. However, such a step seemed futile given the malicious intent of the perpetrator. While awaiting  a response from Facebook and enduring a two-week wait, the perpetrator continued to misuse Maya's Facebook account by sending messages to numerous people.

     "I'm so stressed out right now. Yesterday, I found out that my account was used to message many  people. I'm feeling down again, not knowing what to do. There are so many messages coming in, and it  turns out my account has sent photos to several accounts. Please help me get my account back because  there are many of my photos there, even though they're just photos of me wearing a hijab. If those  photos get shared through messages, I'll be in trouble. There are also photos of my child on my account,  it's heartbreaking," Maya wrote via WhatsApp.

      To prevent the perpetrator from continuing his actions, we rallied support from other friends to report Maya's Facebook account to Facebook. We continued these efforts for several days until the perpetrator temporarily ceased his activities. However, we still couldn't reclaim Maya's Facebook account. Maya had created the account using only her phone number. After the perpetrator took over, Maya had no knowledge of whether he used an email or phone number to access her Facebook account.

     Two weeks after reporting to Facebook, we still hadn't received a response. This situation heightened Maya's anxiety.

     "How's the situation with my account, sis? This person is tampering with my account again. It's true that the photos aren't scandalous, but he’s messaging people on Messenger. I'm scared, stressed out, and anxious again. I'm panicking and worried. Can you find someone smart to hack into my account? I'm afraid of going through what happened last time. Even though there was no coercion in taking over my account, this is tarnishing my reputation," Maya's message sounded panicked.

     Maya continued to provide updates through chat, expressing her distress as her Facebook account had not yet been reclaimed. Until the end of May, we received news from the complaint hotline that Meta had explained via email that the previous owner's email address couldn't be used because it was registered with Meta as a different account.

     Considering the previous steps had not yielded results, Maya was asked to create a new email. So, I took the time to create a new email using her personal information, and at the end of June, we successfully created a new email accessible to Maya. This new email would be used to reclaim Maya's Facebook  account. Everything was progressing amidst the persistent fear haunting Maya. Often, late at night, she would send messages.

     "I'm still afraid, sis. I'm afraid of what might happen if that person continues to message my Facebook  friends through Messenger," she wrote, adding a crying emoticon.

     I listened attentively and inquired about her well-being. On the other hand, messages from strangers continued to harass Maya.

     "I can't calm down, sis. I'm scared. What if that person threatens me and threatens to embarrass my family? Should I change my number or what should I do?" Maya continued, full of anxiety.

 

*** 

 

     In early July, we finally received instructions to check Maya's new email, and indeed, there was an email  from Facebook providing a link to reset the password. That was the crucial moment when we  successfully reclaimed Maya's Facebook account. Without hesitation, Maya requested that all her private photos be deleted from the Facebook account, including photos of her two children. Finally, she  requested that her account be deactivated to prevent the perpetrator from downloading the photos  stored on her Facebook account.

     However, the next day after successfully reclaiming her Facebook account, the perpetrator managed to  create an account with Maya's name. However, the perpetrator only posted one photo of Maya. It  seemed that the perpetrator hadn't had the chance to download all of Maya's photos from her previous account.

 

Digital Footprints Never Vanish

     After reclaiming Maya's Facebook account, we didn't hear from her for a long time. We only shared  occasional updates. Often, I would browse Facebook and try to find Maya's account with the same name and photo. There were three accounts with Maya's name and photo. It indicated that Andi hadn't stopped his actions. Although there weren't many of Maya's photos displayed on those accounts.

     We never knew how many of Maya's photos Andi still possessed. Who knows when he would strike  again and misuse the photos in his possession. Out there, many people experience incidents like Maya's, suffering significant losses, both financially and psychologically.

     Digital footprints never vanish and we can never turn back time. Every moment captured on our  smartphones comes with the risk of data being leaked. Our smartphones could go missing and be found and misused by irresponsible individuals.

     Another risk arises when we share personal photos with those we love. Who would have thought that  relationships could end abruptly and someone we once loved could become an enemy in an instant by  spreading our private photos? It's certainly not our fault; the perpetrator should bear the blame.  However, the world doesn't operate fairly, and unfortunately, marginalized individuals like us are always pushed to the edge, almost falling, without meaningful support from those around us. In the end, we're always required to be vigilant, cautious of all deception and tricks. We can only lean on each other, the vulnerable, and no one else.