Welcome to the internet’s favourite courtroom, where you describe a minor dispute in 900 words, leave out the part where you were rude, and ask thousands of strangers to rule on your character. They will. Permanently. Screenshots don’t die. You will. Below are our most asked questions.
What does AITA mean?
Roughly, “Am I the bad guy?” It’s a forum where people post their conflicts and strangers vote on who’s in the wrong. The closest thing modern life has to a village square, if the village square were full of people who’ve never met you, read your post on the bus, and are absolutely certain about your marriage. They’re also right about it. That’s the worst part.
Who are the judges?
Strangers. Thousands. Qualifications: opinions and a phone. Some are therapists. Most have just been told off by their own sister and are looking for somewhere to put the feeling. Today, that somewhere is you.
How should I write my post?
Begin with “Throwaway account for obvious reasons.” The obvious reason is that you already know. Give everyone’s age and gender in brackets, like a team sheet: “My (34M) flatmate (33M) ate my (34M) lasagne.” Describe events in a way that makes you look calm, reasonable and slightly heroic. Three hours later, add “EDIT:” at the bottom, once 6,000 people have explained that you weren’t.
The verdict was unanimous. The facts were optional. The sentence is permanent.
What if I’m obviously not the bad guy?
Then you’re not asking a question. You’re collecting signatures. “AITA for not letting my coworker take credit for my project?” doesn’t want judgement. It wants applause, with paperwork, and a screenshot to send the coworker at 2am.
What if I’m obviously the bad guy?
You’ll find out quickly. The comments arrive in minutes, and they are thorough. Strangers will notice things you didn’t. Someone will find a detail in paragraph four you thought was harmless. It wasn’t. It never is. Paragraph four is where everyone hides the real story. Paragraph four is where you hid you.
Can the other person reply?
Occasionally, they find the post. This is the best day of the internet’s year. Their version is completely different. The lasagne was theirs. There was a label. The label said “PLEASE”. Everyone switches sides instantly, with the energy of people who were always on that side, and 300 of them go through your post history. They find the other posts. There are always other posts.
Is it healthy to outsource my moral compass?
It’s efficient. Reflecting on your behaviour takes years. A verdict takes an afternoon. The downside is that 40,000 strangers now know about your lasagne, you still live with your flatmate, and your flatmate is reading the comments in the next room, aloud, to their partner, who never liked you either.
Has Zack ever posted?
Once. “AITA for leaving a group chat without saying goodbye?” Verdict: guilty, 92 percent. One commenter said I “clearly have avoidant tendencies”. Another said the post “reads like it was written by someone who’s in bed by 9:30”. The other 8 percent were bots. I have never been more accurately described, or less defended by anyone with a pulse.
What’s the alternative?
Asking one friend who knows you, likes you, and will say “you were both being idiots” before ordering another round. It’s less popular. It doesn’t go viral. It’s the only court where the judge also helps you move flat. Check you still have one. Most people find out on moving day.
Final ruling: YTA for reading all of this. Also YTA for reading it at work. The verdict has been screenshotted.