The Internet Is Getting Meaner — and It’s Even Worse If You’re an Immigrant

There’s a strange paradox about life online: the internet was built to connect us — but for many, it’s turned into the loudest, angriest room in human history.

Spend a few minutes browsing online, and it's clear: the internet is often louder, angrier, and more hostile than many recognize.

Outrage headlines.
Comment wars.
Troll armies.
Harassment.

For immigrants and marginalized communities, it’s a battlefield.

Research confirms what feels obvious: negativity spreads faster than positivity. A 2024 MIT Media Lab study found that posts carrying negative emotions travelled twice as fast as neutral content. Similarly, an analysis of over 100,000 headlines in Nature Human Behaviour revealed that every additional negative word increased click-through rates by 2.3 percent. Neutral, constructive, or positive voices are often drowned out.

Constant exposure to hostility isn’t just background noise; it affects mental health. Experiments show that hostile online comments increase anxiety and lower mood, particularly among younger adults. Algorithms may be neutral, but their consequences are very real.

For immigrants, online negativity is disproportionately directed. In Canada, the Dais “Survey of Online Harms 2024” found that 61 percent of White respondents reported seeing hate speech online, compared with 71 percent of visible minorities. For Middle Eastern respondents, exposure soared to 92 percent. Platforms, which could be lifelines for connection to family, culture, or diaspora networks, often function as spaces of hostility, forcing many immigrants to self-censor just to survive online.

Globally, platforms reward engagement — and outrage is the most profitable form. Anger drives clicks. Clicks feed algorithms. Algorithms amplify outrage further. Positive engagement rarely reaches the same visibility. The internet doesn’t merely reflect society; it magnifies its worst tendencies.

This hostility has intensified even as immigrants rise to visibility and power.

From the new mayor of New York City to a Sikh mayor breaking barriers in North America, immigrant leaders are shaping politics and public life. Yet with this visibility comes vulnerability.

Hate has escalated — from death threats and impersonation campaigns to misinformation and campaigns attempting to erase immigrant stories. For visible minorities with intersectional identities, harassment can be relentless, weaponizing race, religion, gender, and sexuality simultaneously.

This online hate mirrors recent real-world events. On September 13, 2025, anti-immigrant demonstrators attempted a “mass deportation” rally at Christie Pits Park in Toronto. According to TorontoToday, the participants were “surrounded by hundreds of counter-protesters” and ultimately “fled their initial meeting point,” outnumbered at least ten to one. Rally organizers claimed they were “putting Canadians first,” but experts noted that the term “remigration” in their messaging is “synonymous with ethnic cleansing,” according to Evan Balgord, executive director of the Canadian Anti-Hate Network (TorontoToday, 2025).

Even when anti-immigrant sentiment is framed as concern over crime or employment, evidence contradicts it. Immigrants are “much less involved in criminal activity than Canadian-born citizens,” and research from the American Immigration Council found that immigrants can actually strengthen public safety (TorontoToday, 2025). Yet fear and misinformation continue to fuel harassment both online and offline.

As a Sikh and a journalist, I see this directly. Anti-Indian and anti-Sikh hate is surging online, from memes mocking cultural practices to misinformation campaigns targeting entire communities. The Local reported videos circulating of immigrant-dense suburbs like Brampton, captioned “Is this Toronto or India?” and food-service workers labelled “Singh Hortons” (Bhandari, The Local, 2025). These narratives transform everyday life into a spectacle — hypervisible yet vilified.

Immigrant youth, students, and workers — many paying international tuition or contributing essential labour — are blamed for systemic issues like housing shortages, rising costs, or unemployment. The South Asian Legal Clinic of Ontario reported receiving calls from temporary residents experiencing racial slurs and threats while seeking housing or work (Bhandari, The Local, 2025). Social media amplifies these attacks without consequence: “Social media has allowed people to say pretty hateful things without any repercussions,” the clinic’s executive director, Shalini Konanur, told The Local (Bhandari, The Local, 2025).

Yet there is resilience. The thousands who counter-protested at Christie Pits show that public resistance can blunt hate in real-world spaces. Catherine Crockett, a counter-protester, said she was thrilled the demonstrators were “chased off,” adding, “I feel like we’ve achieved victory” (TorontoToday, 2025). These acts of solidarity remind us that while the online world amplifies hate, the offline world still allows communities to reclaim space and challenge injustice.

Solutions exist online, too. Platforms could provide transparency about hate-speech metrics, empower community-driven moderation, and design features that encourage positive engagement. Immigrants and minorities can curate feeds, mute toxic content, and seek safe spaces online — but structural change is essential to prevent harassment from being normalized.

The internet mirrors us in our loudest, angriest, and most ruthless moments. When we reward anger, anger dominates. When we reward empathy, understanding can flourish. For immigrants and marginalized communities, this is not theoretical — it is a daily reality.

Every post, comment, and share is a choice: contribute to the noise, or help build a digital and public world worth inhabiting.

I want to live in a country where immigrants are celebrated, not vilified. Where differences are a source of strength, not suspicion. Where our children can walk down the street or scroll online without fear of hate.

This isn’t just idealism — it’s a call to action.

Speak up against online harassment.

Stand in solidarity offline.

Vote for policies that protect newcomers.

Challenge misinformation when you see it.

Together, we can choose empathy over anger, connection over exclusion, and build a Canada — and a world — that is truly worthy of its people.