Amber Ray denies the government’s role in the cyberbullying act. Amid a whirlwind of online fury, the glamorous socialite and influencer fired back at trolls accusing her of being a state mouthpiece after voicing support for the controversial Cybercrime Amendment Bill, insisting her stance stems from personal scars of digital venom, not a pay cheque from the powers that be.
In a candid Instagram Live that drew 150,000 viewers in under an hour, the 32-year-old mother-of-two, known for her unapologetic flaunts of luxury and love, shut down rumours swifter than a Nairobi downpour: “I’m no government employee – never have been, never will. This is me talking from the gut, after years of eating hate for breakfast.”
The drama ignited Tuesday when Amber Ray, real name Faith Makau, dropped a video endorsing the bill’s push for harsher penalties on cyberbullying, revenge, and fake news – offences that could now fetch up to 10 years behind bars or Sh10 million fines under the amended law tabled last week.
“For once, I genuinely support a government move,” she said, her signature bold brows furrowed against a backdrop of her sleek Lavington living room.
“Freedom of speech? Yes. But using it to bully, defame, or drag someone’s name through the mud? No, ma’am. I’ve been there – stalked, slut-shamed, and doxxed by keyboard warriors hiding behind avatars.”
Her words, laced with that raw Nairobi twang, struck a chord with fans who’ve watched her rise from club queen to brand boss but drew daggers from netizens branding her a “Ruto rat” in the wake of Gen Z’s anti-tax tantrums.
Backlash flooded her mentions like the Athi in flood season: “Sellout!” screamed one viral thread, while memes morphed her into a State House puppet, strings pulled by the hustler-in-chief.
Amber didn’t flinch. “Y’all are quick to call me paid opposition when I speak up for what’s right,” she clapped back in the Live, scrolling through screenshots of old trolls who’d leaked her kids’ school deets or Photoshopped her into scandalous spreads.
“I built this empire on my back – endorsements from M-Pesa to makeup lines, not ministry memos. If supporting laws that protect women like me from online hell makes me ‘pro-govt’, then guilty as charged.”
Her denial doubled as a diary dump: Recalling a 2023 stalker saga that forced her to beef up security and therapy bills, she urged followers, “Cyberbullying isn’t banter; it’s brutality. This act could save lives – ours, our daughters’.”
The bill itself, fast-tracked amid rising digital dust-ups – think Maverick Aoko’s August arrest for “hate posts” – aims to plug loopholes in the 2018 Cybercrimes Act, but critics like digital rights group Bloggers Association of Kenya cry censorship.
“It’s a double-edged sword – shields victims, silences voices,” admitted activist Nanjala Nyabola in a quick op-ed for The Standard. Amber’s pivot? Pure pragmatism from a woman who’s thrived in the troll trenches.
“I’m independent – I fly private, not on public payroll,” she laughed, flashing a wrist full of custom bling. With her follower count spiking 20,000 overnight, the irony’s thick: In Kenya’s echo-chamber era, her “govt girl” tag might just be the glow-up she never asked for.
For Amber Ray, denying govt ties to the cyberbullying act isn’t defence – it’s declaration. In a city where clout’s currency, her unfiltered fire might just forge fiercer fans. What’s your take – bill boon or bully’s bridle?
