The Reckless Terror of Chaya Raichik
How Libs of TikTok Turned One Woman’s Obsession into a National Threat
Chaya Raichik is not just a provocateur. She is a propagandist, a professional agitator, and the architect of a digital harassment machine that has caused chaos in schools, hospitals, and homes across the United States. Disguised behind the sanitized veneer of social media “journalism,” Raichik has transformed outrage into a business—and human collateral into branding. She is the creator of “Libs of TikTok,” a social media account that masquerades as grassroots exposure but functions as a finely tuned weapon of political persecution, aimed squarely at LGBTQ+ people, educators, and medical professionals.
Her posts are not random. They are deliberate. And the consequences are measurable: death threats, bomb scares, reputational ruin, psychological trauma, and, in at least one instance, death. She has publicly named individuals, smeared institutions, and flooded digital spaces with invective designed to provoke the most unstable corners of the internet. When police sirens blare, schools evacuate, hospitals go into lockdown, or families disappear under threat, Raichik does not apologize—she gloats. She mocks her victims, celebrates their suffering, and flaunts the violence as a badge of success.
This is not commentary. This is cruelty at scale, and it operates with the full awareness of its impact.
Raichik’s transformation from an anonymous far-right content peddler to a mainstream political asset is not just a failure of social media moderation—it is a systemic indictment of media, politics, and law. She has evaded accountability not because she is harmless, but because her message is useful to powerful people. Legislators amplify her posts. Governors appoint her to advisory boards. Tech billionaires reward her with reach. And while they prop her up, real people lose their livelihoods, their safety, and in some cases, their lives.
Chaya Raichik is not a passive actor. She is an instigator. And the question that now faces a nation haunted by political violence is simple: how much longer can she be allowed to operate without consequence?
Raichik began as a real estate agent, but she found her true calling in the manipulation of public fear. Launching “Libs of TikTok” in 2020, she started by reposting videos of LGBTQ+ teachers and trans individuals—stripped of context, paired with incendiary captions, and framed to imply deviance. Her language was explicit: “groomer,” “predator,” “insane.” She framed queer identity as a contagion, liberal educators as a threat to children, and any public show of LGBTQ+ support as a sinister agenda. The formula was effective. Her audience grew. Her reach exploded. And the targets of her content began receiving threats, doxxing, and in multiple cases, bomb scares.
One North Texas teacher, falsely accused of misconduct for supporting LGBTQ+ students, had both her home and school targeted by bomb threats. A chemistry teacher in Lewisville, Texas, was harassed into resignation for wearing a dress during a spirit day. In Oklahoma, Principal Shane Murnan was forced out of his job after Raichik revealed his history as a drag performer. Bomb threats followed. When Murnan resigned under duress, Raichik responded with a sneering “Cry harder.” She didn’t just instigate harassment—she relished it.
Then came the hospitals.
In 2022, Raichik posted the baseless claim that Boston Children’s Hospital was performing hysterectomies on children. The claim was false. The hospital had no such policy. But it didn’t matter. Within days, they were overwhelmed with threats. One woman was arrested for calling in a bomb threat—telling staff there was a bomb on the way and to evacuate. Her motivation? She believed what Raichik told her. The hospital endured multiple follow-up threats, and similar institutions across the country were targeted as well. Not once did Raichik express remorse. Instead, she posted a selfie proudly holding a newspaper that tied her posts to the bomb threats. She wore the carnage like a crown.
What Raichik does is not free speech—it is incitement veiled in deniability. This is the definition of stochastic terrorism: where someone with influence uses rhetoric to inflame extremists, then pleads innocence when violence follows. She avoids direct calls to violence but knows exactly what her audience will do. The results are unmistakable. Schools have been evacuated. Libraries have been threatened. Queer teachers and students have disappeared under pressure. Parents have pulled children from classrooms in fear—not because of the teachers, but because of the mobs Raichik activates.
The consequences have escalated beyond fear and into tragedy. In 2022, five people were murdered at Club Q, a queer nightclub in Colorado Springs. That venue, like many others, had been targeted online by Libs of TikTok for hosting drag events. In the immediate aftermath of the massacre, Raichik doubled down—posting more anti-LGBTQ content, accusing Colorado legislators of “promoting filth.” She didn’t pause. She didn’t reflect. She escalated.
In 2024, 16-year-old Nex Benedict, a nonbinary student in Oklahoma, died after being assaulted in a school bathroom. Their death followed over a year of bullying and anti-LGBTQ hostility. Raichik did not name Nex, but she helped shape the culture that led to their death. That same year, Oklahoma’s superintendent of education, Ryan Walters—an ally of Raichik—appointed her to the state’s library board, giving her a formal platform to push censorship and disinformation. He publicly celebrated the resignation of Principal Murnan, calling it a victory. His state became a testing ground for state-sponsored harassment, with Raichik as the weapon.
And yet, despite all of this, she remains unpunished. In fact, she is protected. Seth Dillon of the Babylon Bee funded her legal and business infrastructure. Elon Musk boosted her reach and praised her. Politicians continue to reference her posts as fact. Even Donald Trump hosted her as a guest. The machinery that should restrain her—tech platforms, civil courts, state laws—has failed. And so she grows more emboldened.
But failure to act is not the same as inability to act.
There is a growing legal argument that Raichik’s conduct could meet the threshold for civil liability—possibly more. If she has knowingly spread false information about individuals, that opens the door to defamation. Her repeated targeting of specific people, paired with foreseeable threats and psychological trauma, supports claims of intentional infliction of emotional distress. The families of victims, particularly in cases like Nex Benedict’s or Boston Children’s Hospital, could plausibly explore wrongful death or negligence. And while the First Amendment offers wide protection, it does not cover incitement. If her conduct continues to align with threats that follow in short order, prosecutors could test that boundary under the Brandenburg standard.
At the very least, victims and institutions could use civil courts to pursue damages. There are legal tools to fight back. What’s missing is the political and cultural will to confront the apparatus that shields her. That must change. Silence is complicity, and the law—if used strategically—can draw a line.
Chaya Raichik built her fame on the backs of frightened children, outed teachers, and bomb-swept hospitals. She is not misunderstood. She is not misrepresented. She is exactly what she presents herself to be: a cynical operator whose career thrives on manufactured outrage and real-world pain. Her enablers can no longer claim ignorance. The violence is not hypothetical. It is documented. The victims have names. And the trail of cruelty leads straight to her screen.
She deserves scrutiny. She deserves resistance. And she deserves to be sued—relentlessly, strategically, and publicly—by the people whose lives her content has shattered.
The teachers doxxed and smeared could sue for defamation, emotional distress, and tortious interference with employment. The schools and hospitals subjected to bomb threats after her posts could pursue claims of negligence, incitement, and reckless endangerment. Victims of sustained harassment campaigns—especially those who were not public figures—could pursue civil stalking and cyberharassment actions under state laws. Some may even have grounds to argue that Raichik’s posts constituted intentional targeting of protected classes under hate crimes statutes.
The family of Nex Benedict, and others like them, may one day press the courts to confront a harder truth: that when online propaganda leads to physical violence, the propagandist is not innocent. She is accountable. Chaya Raichik did not throw a punch or place a bomb—but her digital fingerprints are all over the psychological warfare that preceded both. Her platform turns misrepresentation into incitement, and incitement into consequence. That is not a glitch—it is the design.
Every post that falsely labeled someone a “groomer,” every lie that incited a mob, every flippant smear that led to police cordoning off a school, was a calculated attack with foreseeable fallout. And Raichik knew it. She encouraged it. She profited from it. That’s not free speech. That’s operationalized defamation and stochastic terrorism.
Raichik will no doubt shield herself behind the First Amendment—the last refuge of those who cause harm but refuse responsibility. But that defense is not as bulletproof as she’d like her followers to believe. The First Amendment is not a license to defame, to incite, or to destroy people’s lives with calculated disinformation. Speech has boundaries, and Raichik has blown past them repeatedly.
Her defenders may argue she’s merely “reposting” public content. That’s false in both spirit and fact. Raichik doesn’t simply reshare—she editorializes, distorts, and weaponizes. Her language is deliberately inflammatory. She adds accusations like “groomer,” “predator,” or “insane” to individuals she singles out. She strips videos of context, manipulates narratives, and misleads her audience into outrage. That’s not journalism. That’s targeted defamation. And courts have long recognized that the First Amendment does not protect defamatory speech.
Nor does it protect incitement. Under Brandenburg v. Ohio, speech that is “directed to inciting or producing imminent lawless action” and is “likely to incite or produce such action” is not constitutionally protected. Raichik’s content, which has repeatedly preceded bomb threats, doxxing, and widespread harassment within hours of publication, may well qualify under this standard. When she names a school, a hospital, or an individual, and violent threats follow within a short window, the line between commentary and incitement becomes razor thin.
There is also the doctrine of true threats—statements where the speaker communicates a serious expression of intent to commit an act of unlawful violence to a particular individual or group. While Raichik may not personally issue threats, her pattern of behavior and her audience’s consistent reaction create a predictable and dangerous outcome. That predictability weakens her plausible deniability. She knows what her followers will do. She baits them into doing it. That makes her exposure far more serious.
Even if Raichik tries to claim she didn’t intend for violence to occur, legal precedent recognizes that reckless disregard for known consequences—particularly when repeated—can establish liability. In civil court, that’s more than enough. And in the court of public opinion, it’s already damning.
This isn’t about silencing political speech. It’s about holding accountable a person who has used a public platform to knowingly endanger the lives of others. Chaya Raichik’s speech isn’t just offensive. It’s operationalized abuse. And when the consequences are schools evacuated, children terrorized, and lives destroyed, the Constitution does not give her a blank check.
If there is any justice left in this country, victims will come forward—not just with stories, but with attorneys. Raichik should be forced to answer in court for every ruined career, every terrified child, every educator driven out, and every institution forced into lockdown because of her vendetta.
But Raichik’s unchecked reign isn’t going unopposed. Across the country, a growing number of advocates, educators, journalists, and legal experts are calling her out—and fighting back.
Media watchdogs like Media Matters and GLAAD have published in-depth investigations exposing the direct correlation between her posts and real-world threats. These reports are not just awareness tools—they’re being used to brief lawmakers and shape policy responses. Civil rights organizations have begun building legal frameworks to challenge the kind of stochastic incitement Raichik embodies, laying the groundwork for future litigation.
Some victims have begun consulting attorneys. Legal clinics, pro bono attorneys, and defamation specialists are quietly preparing what could become the first wave of lawsuits meant to test just how far her liability stretches. If even one suit lands—if even one jury sees the receipts—it could change the game. A successful defamation or IIED case could not only bankrupt her operation, but open the floodgates for others to follow.
Public pressure is also mounting. Parents, students, and school boards are refusing to cower. Some school districts are now openly naming Libs of TikTok in their threat reports, treating Raichik’s account as an active vector of risk—one that law enforcement is beginning to track. Legislators in progressive states are quietly working on proposals to strengthen doxxing laws, increase digital harassment protections, and enable faster legal responses to targeted abuse.
And on the cultural front, her name is no longer anonymous. She is known. Her face is known. Her tactics are being dissected in classrooms, on podcasts, in Substack columns like this one. The spotlight she used as a weapon is now being turned on her—with full force.
The movement to hold Chaya Raichik accountable has begun. It’s slow, but it’s real. And if she’s rattled? She should be. Because her victims aren’t staying silent anymore—and neither is the world around them.
She deserves no peace—not because of who she is, but because of what she’s done.
And now, with the legal case mounting and public outrage growing, it’s time she finally faces the consequences she’s spent years unleashing on everyone else.