I didn’t make a speech. I didn’t call anyone out. I didn’t post a manifesto.
I just stopped using voice comms in public matches where women were present. Not because I hate women. Not because I wanted attention. Because I’d seen what happened to other streamers — guys who made one joke, one misread, one comment clipped out of context — and I wasn’t going to let it happen to me.
It wasn’t just about wanting to protect my stream, either. I wanted to protect my marriage and stand on values that are important to me. I didn’t want my family or the people close to me to see something about me online that was taken out of context, and get the wrong impression.
But that decision, which I didn’t even announce, became a headline, then a firestorm, and finally a label that never came off.
This admonishment was big enough to stir up Reddit threads, YouTube reactions, X pile-ons, and industry think pieces. Big enough for people to pretend they knew me.
I didn’t say anything. I just kept streaming. But silence doesn’t protect you when people are determined to tell your story for you.
Online spaces don’t have balanced rules. Your chat can spam slurs. Your teammates can bait you. Commentators can clip your stream, assign motives, and toss you into a controversy you never asked for. But if you set a line or if you don’t play along, you’re the problem.
Creators are expected to be professional, inclusive, polished, on-brand, inoffensive, and always available for public judgment. If you step outside the script — if you put up a wall to protect yourself — people decide it must be because you’re a bad person. Not cautious. Not human. Just wrong.
What got lost in the noise was that I wasn’t calling for rules. I was doing damage control before there was damage. I knew what kind of drama could follow an innocent interaction. And I didn’t want that smoke.
When I got banned, people assumed that meant I broke something, that I finally crossed a line. But bans don’t always come from actions. They come from pressure and noise.
Platforms make decisions based on who’s loud, not who’s right. In my case, they listened to every random person who decided they needed to explain me to the world.
Despite what they all said, I wasn’t demonstrating sexist behavior or posing any danger to anyone. I was actually just being careful.
Yet, despite my best intentions, I still got the worst of it — death threats, doxxing, harassment, and lies. All because I made a choice that wasn’t performative enough for people watching from the outside.
The biggest myth in streaming is that this space is fair. That creators are judged by their content, and the system rewards the good ones and filters out the bad.
What it really rewards is compliance. Perform the right kind of inclusion. Say the right kind of things. Don’t make anyone uncomfortable. And when you do mess up, make it entertaining. Cry. Apologize. “Grow.” Let the algorithm wash you clean.
I didn’t do that. I didn’t post the apology video. I didn’t disappear and come back with new branding. I didn’t pursue the redemption arc because redemption wasn’t necessary.
Instead, I just streamed. Every day. Through it. Around it. Despite it. And while doing that allowed me to keep my sanity, I eventually decided that it wasn’t enough. I wouldn’t allow people to tell my story for me any longer.
If you’re just getting started, or even if you’ve been around a while, let me be blunt. There are some things you need to know if you plan on surviving as a content creator:
- Don’t expect fairness. The rules aren’t rules. They’re vibes. And the loudest people set them.
- Your silence will be filled in for you. If you don’t explain your choices, someone else will do it worse.
- Keep your composure. Hearing people spread lies about you is frustrating and will test your control over your anger. Don’t give in to it. Losing your cool only encourages them to keep antagonizing you.
- Boundaries are mandatory. You need them early. You need them clearly. And you need to hold them, even when it costs you.
- You don’t owe strangers access. Your peace of mind is not public property.
- Harassment won’t come from who you expect. It won’t be the platform. It’ll be the crowd pretending they want justice when what they really want is content.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t spin. I didn’t hide.
What I did was set a boundary. That boundary got turned into a controversy. And now I’m talking because people should know how that happens. Because other creators are going to face the same thing. And because surviving the internet shouldn’t require you to play a character.
DON’T PUT THE FERTILITY RATE ON TAYLOR SWIFT’S SHOULDERS
I’m not bitter. Nor am I here to rehash every headline. But I’ve earned the right to say this plainly:
If you want to make content, get clear on what you stand for — before someone else decides for you.
Jason Ruchelski is a Canadian streamer and former professional esports player known for his career in Counter-Strike: Global Offensive and VALORANT. Since stepping back from competition in 2020, he has built a loyal audience on Twitch under the username JasonR, streaming high-level FPS gameplay and speaking openly about the performance politics of online culture, cancel narratives, and the expectations placed on creators.