In a passionate social media outburst that has since gone viral, award-winning Ghanaian filmmaker Leila Djansi has launched a scathing attack on what she describes as the deep-seated cruelty of some Ghanaians on social media.
The “Sinking Sands” director, known for her outspoken nature and advocacy for women’s issues, took to Facebook to recount the painful experience of watching a friend, identified as Beverly, endure vicious online mockery following a personal tragedy.
‘Insults, Abuse, Derision’
According to Ms Djansi, Beverly recently lost her home to a fire. When the filmmaker posted about the incident seeking support for her distressed friend, the response from some Ghanaians was not sympathy—but scorn.
“What I got instead was insults, abuse, and derision,” Djansi wrote. “Some Ghanaians mocked her pain and said the most unkind things.”
She revealed that she intentionally refused to take the post down. “I wanted to remember what was revealed,” she explained—a stark testament to the lasting psychological impact of the experience.
‘A People Who Wait for Your Collapse’
The post quickly pivoted from a personal anecdote to a broader indictment of a mindset the filmmaker believes has taken root in parts of Ghanaian society.
“A people who do not want to help you heal,” she wrote. “They wait for your collapse so they can feel taller standing beside your ruins.”
Djansi, who has received international recognition for using filmmaking to highlight women’s issues, accused online critics of measuring their success by others’ failures.
“That cruelty changed how I see people,” she confessed. “Not everyone. But enough.”
The filmmaker used the German term “Schadenfreude”—the pleasure derived from another person’s misfortune—to describe the phenomenon, describing a land “as red as the blood they spill with their words.”
“You think it’s dust?” she challenged. “It’s blood.”
‘Fake Tears, Fake People’
The diatribe took an even darker turn as Djansi addressed what she sees as the performative nature of public grief on social media.
“What are you posting RIP for now?” she asked pointedly. “A people who cannot wait to hear you have failed.”
She accused online trolls of being “haters masquerading as fans,” suggesting that beneath professions of support lies a corrosive hunger for scandal and downfall.
Her frustration extended to Ghanaian journalism practices—a consistent theme in her public commentary. In previous statements, she has criticized local media for focusing on sensationalism and “shoving cameras into grieving faces” during moments of crisis rather than providing meaningful information or support.
A Theological Lament
Perhaps most striking was Djansi’s turn toward the theological. In a statement likely to spark further debate, she wrote:
“I’ll say God is watching you, but He doesn’t care. He stands by, watching evil thrive. But one day, the earth will have you too.”
The words suggest not atheism but a profound disappointment—a sense that divine justice, if it exists, has been suspended in the face of routine digital cruelty.
Context: A Pattern of Outspokenness
This is far from the first time Leila Djansi has used her platform to confront what she perceives as societal rot. The award-winning filmmaker, whose work includes “Like Cotton Twines” (an exploration of the Trokosi practice in Ghana) and “Grass Between My Lips” (a story of female circumcision), has consistently directed her creative and public energy toward exposing uncomfortable truths.
In 2013, she famously confronted Ghanaians over the sexualization of then-deputy minister Victoria Hammah, arguing that society had reduced the woman to her physical attributes and then condemned her for living up to that reductive image.
“You Ghanaians turned her into no more than that,” she wrote at the time. “You created her and she’s living it.”
More recently, in July 2024, she called for the “cancellation” of Chef Smith following his fabricated Guinness World Record claim, arguing that a simple apology should not erase consequences for deceit that “trivializes the achievements of genuine record holders.”
In August 2025, she warned the National Democratic Congress (NDC) not to forget the families of eight accident victims, stating that failure to learn lessons from tragedy would carry electoral consequences.
‘The Root of Bitterness’
In her latest post, Djansi offered a stark diagnosis of what she believes ails Ghana’s digital public square:
“Anger has fashioned a shade with your compassion. The root of bitterness has taken away your senses. No wonder nothing you build survives.”
The words carry particular weight coming from a filmmaker who left Ghana for the United States to further her education at the Savannah College of Art and Design on an artistic honours scholarship—yet has consistently returned to Ghanaian themes and subjects in her work.
‘An Opportunity to Change’
Despite the bleakness of her assessment, Djansi ended on a note that suggested her public venting was not mere rage but a form of desperate intervention.
“Maybe this is what Beverly is leaving behind,” she wrote—naming her friend’s tragedy not as an ending but as a beginning. “An opportunity to change.”
Broader Implications
The incident raises uncomfortable questions about Ghana’s social media culture. As smartphone penetration and internet access continue to grow across the country, anonymous and semi-anonymous cruelty has become an increasingly visible feature of online life.
Mental health advocates have long warned about the psychological impact of digital mobbing, particularly on individuals already in crisis. There are no laws in Ghana specifically addressing online harassment, though the Cybersecurity Act, 2020 (Act 1038) provides some framework for addressing certain forms of harmful digital communication.
For now, Leila Djansi’s words stand as both a personal testimony and a public warning—a reminder that behind every trending topic and viral post are real people carrying real pain.
And Beverly? Her house burned down. But if Djansi is to be believed, that physical destruction revealed a far more troubling kind of devastation already present—one that flames had nothing to do with.
