Bullied To The Brink :Nigerian-American TikTok Creator Riziki Ilenre’s Alleged Death on TikTok Live Puts a Spotlight on the Violence We Scroll Past

Riziki Ilenre’s death has forced an uncomfortable reckoning with a truth many of us already know but rarely confront honestly: cyberbullying is not passive, and it is not harmless.

Riziki, known on TikTok as sincerelynaija, died in December 12th. Police have since opened an investigation into the circumstances surrounding her passing, including reports that it occurred during a TikTok live. While authorities have not confirmed an official cause of death, what has dominated online conversation is not speculation about how she died but how she was living online before she did.

In the days leading up to her death, ongoing conversations across TikTok and other platforms allege that Riziki was repeatedly bullied, not just by faceless trolls but by people described as friends. Viewers claim she was mocked, taunted, and  most disturbingly  publicly encouraged to “unalive herself” during live broadcasts. These are allegations, but they are widespread, consistent, and impossible to ignore.

This is not drama. This is harm.

What makes cyberbullying particularly insidious is its intimacy. It happens in bedrooms, on phones, in real time. Livestreams erase the buffer between cruelty and consequence. There is no delay, no editor, no adult in the room. Just a person in distress, an audience watching, and a comment section that can tip from concern to cruelty in seconds.

And when bullying happens live, everyone present is implicated.

Not only the people typing the words, but those who stay, who laugh, who record, who repost, who say nothing. Silence, in digital spaces, is not neutral. It is often read as permission.

Platforms insist they are neutral hosts. But algorithms tell a different story. Conflict is rewarded. Breakdown becomes content. Pain drives engagement. The more volatile a moment becomes, the more visible it is made. This is not accidental  it is structural.

Riziki’s case exposes a deeper cultural failure: we have normalised humiliation as entertainment and cruelty as commentary. We frame it as “mess,” “tea,” or “internet beef,” distancing ourselves from the fact that there is a human being on the other side of the screen  absorbing every word.

Police will establish facts. But culture must establish accountability. Why were calls for help drowned out by jokes? Why did encouragement to self-harm go unchecked in real time? Why do platforms intervene after death, not during distress?

Riziki was more than a moment on a feed. She was a young woman with faith, community, and a future that deserved protection  not performance.

If this story fades without change, it will not be because the warning signs weren’t there. It will be because we have decided, again, that online harm is not serious enough until it is fatal.

Cyberbullying is not just about bad actors. It is about systems, spectators, and silence.

And until we are willing to confront all three, we will keep scrolling past violence calling it content  and acting surprised when the consequences are irreversible.

Riziki Ilenre was more than a TikTok creator, she was a law student, a woman of deep faith, and someone openly navigating loneliness, depression, and perseverance. In a post she shared on Instagram, she reflected on moving across the country, leaning on God through difficult nights, and proudly celebrating passing her first semester of law school. She appeared bright-eyed, smiling, and hopeful, a young woman actively building a future.

Riziki’s story has become a painful reminder that behind every username is a whole life, dreams, faith, and promise, and that the violence we scroll past online has real, irreversible consequences.