He said, she said — then, the internet decided.

On Dec. 21, 2024, actress Blake Lively filed a 80-page lawsuit accusing “It Ends With Us” co-star and director Justin Baldoni of sexual harassment and inappropriate conduct on set. She alleged that Baldoni improvised kissing scenes, made explicit comments about her body, and pressured her into filming intimate moments that were not in the original script. Yet, despite substantial evidence and near-unanimous support from the cast, she was disbelieved. In the court of public opinion, a woman’s credibility is often determined not by the facts of her case, but by how much the public likes her.

In Lively’s case, the smear campaign began immediately: A 2016 interview recirculated on social media along with accusations that she was out of touch and self-promotional, particularly in her marketing for “It Ends With Us,” where she casually plugged her hair product while discussing a story about domestic abuse. TikTok and X, formerly known as Twitter, were flooded with comments like, “She’s always been insufferable,” and, “Of course she would make this about herself.” This criticism had nothing to do with the allegations themselves, but it became a convenient distraction, shifting the focus from her claims to her character. Worse, the backlash was not organic — it was deliberately engineered.

In her lawsuit, Lively presented evidence of a smear campaign coordinated by Baldoni’s PR team to destroy her public image. Aware that she might come forward with a complaint, the lawsuit reveals that his team worked preemptively to turn the internet against her. One text message from his team even takes credit for the backlash, reading, “We’ve started to see a shift on social [media], due largely to Jed and his team’s efforts to control the narrative.”

Even the very comments that fueled Lively’s backlash were manipulated. Producers allegedly instructed Lively to present the film in a lighthearted manner — hence her cheerful comments encouraging fans to “grab your friends and wear your florals” — while Baldoni was encouraged to frame the film with gravity and sensitivity. The contrast was not an accident; it was a deliberate tactic.

The public’s reaction to Lively’s accusations against Baldoni highlight a troubling reality: Women who come forward — especially against powerful men — are often discredited not by evidence but with attacks on their character. 

Even with overwhelming support from those who actually knew her, the public refused to listen. Unlike many women who face backlash for coming forward, Lively had near-unanimous support from her colleagues. “It Ends With Us” author Colleen Hoover publicly defended her, as did multiple castmates who worked on the film. Yet, none of this mattered. The smear campaign had done its job: Online discourse was already poisoned against her.

As one of Baldoni’s own team members aptly said: “It’s actually sad because it just shows you how much people really want to hate on women.”

Lively’s treatment follows a long-established pattern. During the Anita Hill hearings, senators fixated less on Clarence Thomas’ alleged misconduct and more on Hill’s “demeanor,” questioning why she was “so composed” if she had truly been harassed. Long before the #MeToo era, Monica Lewinsky was vilified as manipulative, while the man who held power over her walked away unscathed. The playbook remains unchanged: If you cannot disprove a woman’s claims, you discredit her as a person.

While it is easy to dismiss this as just another Hollywood feud or a workplace dispute gone public, the issue runs far deeper. The #MeToo movement suggested that, as a society, we had moved past these biases and learned to take allegations seriously without demanding perfection from victims.

The fact that Lively’s public perception was so easily weaponized against her should concern everyone. By many measures, she had the kind of credibility that should have insulated her from doubt. She is wealthy and famous, meaning she has nothing to gain financially from speaking out. She is conventionally attractive, well-liked in Hollywood, and has never been involved in a major scandal. If even she — white, wealthy, famous, possessing institutional power — could be turned into a villain for things as trivial as being “annoying,” what does that mean for other survivors? As we’ve seen, public favor is disturbingly easy to manipulate.

This is not just about one actress, but about the precedent it sets. If a woman must pass a popularity contest before her story is believed, then justice is no longer about truth — it’s about who controls the narrative.