Instagram falsely accused me of vile behaviour. Now I’m locked out of my life

I first realised something was wrong when a girlfriend texted me last November: “I just tried to send you something on Insta and your account is gone. Are you OK?”

I then discovered that Instagram had sent me an email: “We suspended your account, Sarah. You cannot use it.”

Every photo, message and memory from the past 16 years was gone. My stomach dropped. Under the heading “Why this happened”, it read: “Your account, or activity on it, doesn’t follow our Community Standards on child sexual exploitation, abuse, and nudity.”

I felt sick. How could this be possible? It was absurd. Instagram provided no evidence of my supposed wrongdoing – and no hint whatsoever as to which of my messages or images may have raised the alarm with its algorithm. My posts had been pictures of my cakes, travels, friends and family. The only pictures of children were my nieces and nephews at parties or in parks, fully clothed. I appealed that suspension and, on December 7, my account was restored with an apology: “We’re sorry we got this wrong.”

Fourteen days later, it happened again. The same automated message, from a “no-reply” email, alerted me that I had been suspended – for the same reason. I appealed again and, this time, I was reinstated on the same day, and with the same apology. Phew!

Then, on January 21, I was suspended for the third time. And on February 3, Instagram advised me that my account had been irreversibly “disabled”. It added: “All your information will be permanently deleted. You cannot request another review of this decision.”

It offered me a link from which I could download a copy of what I had posted. This was curious, given the severity of Instagram’s vile claims against me and the allegedly sordid nature of my content. Nevertheless, Meta held the record of the past 16 years of my life. My innocent life – both personal and professional. So, naturally, I clicked on that link to salvage my history. That led me to a folder of indecipherable code but not one of my images or messages. All of it, gone.

The allegation is horrendous, yet Instagram has offered me no pathway to clear my name. And because Instagram is part of the Meta empire, I am also blocked forevermore from access to Facebook and Threads. I am persona non grata on all Meta platforms. Condemned by an algorithm, I have no avenue for appeal or contact with a human umpire.

This is especially galling as I write in the same week that one US jury found Meta enabled child sexual exploitation on its platforms and ordered it to pay $US375 million ($538 million) in civil penalties because it misled users of Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp. A second jury found Meta and YouTube liable for a young woman’s social media addiction and ordered they pay her $US6 million.

And the tech giant that enabled child sexual exploitation, Meta, gets to sit as my judge, jury and executioner. But mine is far from a unique case. Instagram and Facebook each have 3 billion users. For many, this is where we exist publicly and professionally. Losing access is isolating. Yet Meta’s false accusations are common. Across Australia, the UK and the US, users and small business owners report being locked out, as I was, by automated moderation errors, with no clear pathway for appeal. Many report being permanently banned after automated systems incorrectly flagged them.

Child sexual exploitation is the worst of potential breaches. And while that label may not be public, its effects are. I cannot promote my podcast. I cannot market my book or my business. I cannot build an audience. I cannot connect with friends and family. Meta has excluded me from a digital ecosystem used by billions.

I’ve attempted to fix its mistake more than 30 times. Nothing’s worked. On one occasion, “Data Protection” responded, only to say it could not help. No explanation. My access depended on an algorithm that had accepted me for 16 years, until one day it didn’t.

In banking, where I spent 25 years, systems designed to detect financial crime must be evidence-based and open to challenge. Denying a customer access without explanation or recourse would raise serious regulatory and legal concerns.

Meta does offer users paid services such as Meta Verified to request “human” support. For $19.49 per month, I get a blue tick. But that request was denied, too. And not by a human.

I tried to start over this week by creating a new account. When I attempted to verify my identity, I was immediately suspended. Meta uses biometric data to verify us. It knows exactly who I am and where I live, but it won’t talk to me. Big tech holds immense power over our identities and reputations. But even when it wants to accuse us of the most abominable crime, it seems procedural fairness is optional.

Sarah Curnow is a Sydney journalist and runs her own finance brokerage.

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