“I Opened Up About Not Having Black Friends Until 26 — The Backlash Was Unexpected”

Sharing your life online has become the norm. Whether posting short-form videos on TikTok, curating a picture-perfect feed on Instagram, or logging every professional milestone on LinkedIn, there’s an unspoken expectation that your digital presence reflects some version of your real life. But as more people turn to the internet to tell their stories, even more show up to comment, critique, and dissect what’s been shared. This tension between vulnerability and public scrutiny was made apparent to content creator Kristabel Plummer, 37, when she shared a personal experience that unexpectedly went viral, revealing the harsh realities of being open online.  

When Kristabel sat down to film a simple “Get Ready With Me” TikTok during a press trip, she couldn’t have predicted it would spark a viral storm. In the video posted on April 11th, she reflected on growing up without Black friends, a personal and deeply honest account of her nuanced experience growing up in London. Kristabel’s video touched on her upbringing in a predominantly white neighbourhood and her time at an all-girls school with a similar demographic. Reflecting on her interactions with other Black girls, Kristabel shared that she had “a negative traumatic experience with some Black girls,” which has also shaped her perspective. Despite encountering Black women later in life during University and when she joined the working world, Kristabel expressed that these experiences didn’t lead to deep, long-lasting friendships.

Although Kristabel shared her story with honesty and vulnerability, the flood of comments and criticism that followed exposed how fragile and conditional empathy can be on the internet. What began as a candid reflection on her adolescence quickly became a wider conversation about Black Britishness — in particular, it raised questions about whether her story aligned with what some consider an “authentic” Black experience.

As the discourse spiralled beyond Kristabel’s own experience, she became a proxy for larger conversations about race, class, identity and belonging. This inevitably left her shouldering assumptions from strangers who made judgements about her character and never stopped to ask what was true. Whether it was questioning her intentionality when befriending Black women, accusations of internalised self-hatred, or doubting her understanding of the idea that Black is not a monolith, many comments and reaction videos criticised Kristabel for sharing her experience. 

Yet, not all the responses were negative. Among the criticism, there was also a wave of gratitude from those who resonated deeply with Kristabel’s story. Some viewers saw their own experiences reflected in her words and thanked her for articulating a reality they had not the confidence to share.

Despite the backlash, Kristabel remained active in the conversation. She responded to comments, engaged with critiques, and clarified her intentions, all while navigating a wave of unsolicited judgment and emotional labour. 

Amid the noise, Unbothered sat down with Kristabel to hear how she processed the reaction, what the experience taught her about sharing online, and how she has been coping since pressing post.

Kristabel Plummer: I've been getting quite vulnerable online recently. I’d already spoken about never having been in a relationship, which led to a piece in Grazia. That went viral, too. But this video was more spontaneous. I’d seen people questioning whether a Black BBC reporter had any Black friends after a “bad hair day” moment, and it made me reflect. I grew up in Bromley, which is a pretty white area. That whole conversation prompted me to share my own experience.

KP: Not at all. I was filming a Get Ready With Me because I was running late for breakfast and just wanted to shoot content while getting dressed. I had a rough outline, not even a script. Then I posted it and didn’t think much of it. Suddenly, it was everywhere. People were making videos, thinkpieces. There were so many videos about me. It was surreal. Even when they didn’t tag me, it still showed up on my feed.

KP: Honestly, I felt judged. Only about 3% of viewers actually watched the full video, and a lot of people were missing the nuance. I was very clear that while I didn’t grow up with Black friends, I tried to connect with other Black girls. It just didn’t always work out. Some people were like, “You didn’t try hard enough,” or “You were running from your Blackness,” and it just felt unfair. They were giving grace to primary school kids in my story, but not to me as the person sharing it.

KP: I think it’s important. I’ve been talking about being a Black influencer for years. I remember someone like Grace Victory once said there’s strength in vulnerability, and that stuck with me. When my nan passed away during lockdown, I shared that in real time. It's just how I operate. But this experience definitely made me pause. People started searching for signs of self-hate or saying things like, “She only dates white men,” based on zero context. It got wild.

KP: Definitely. People accused me of not being intentional [when trying to make Black friends]. And the truth is, I wasn’t intentional about anything in the 2000s. I was a teenager. Back then, friendship wasn’t some curated thing. You became friends with whoever was around. But Gen Z doesn’t always get that. I think the internet makes people forget how different the world used to be. And also, some people just projected their own experiences onto mine.

KP: It didn’t stop me, but it made me more thoughtful. I kept engaging in the comments and replying to some of the videos. It opened up some great discussions, but it was also exhausting. And the platforms don’t really support creators through this kind of thing. It’s wild that others could monetise videos critiquing me, while I had to wait until I hit 10K followers to even get monetised.

KP: Make sure it’s a scar and not a wound. You need to have done some healing first because the internet can be brutal. But don’t let fear stop you. You never know who you might help by telling your story. Vulnerability is powerful. We just need more space to do it safely.