# Man Gets Eviscerated By Online Mob After Confusing Ashura With "Goth Halloween," Internet Says YTA
**NEW YORK** — In what can only be described as the most galaxy-brained cultural misunderstanding since that one white girl tried to pay for her Starbucks with "good vibes," a 27-year-old marketing intern from Brooklyn is currently getting absolutely bodied online after posting a TikTok where he compared the Islamic holy day of Ashura to "basically, like, goth Halloween, but, like, with more crying."
The video, which has since been deleted but not before being screen-recorded and nuked into the stratosphere by Twitter’s finest, shows one Jared Finkelstein, a self-described "spiritual but not religious" guy who “just really vibes with the aesthetic of mourning,” standing in front of a mirror in a poorly-fitting black shirt. According to his now-deactivated Instagram bio, Jared’s hobbies include “cold brew,” “finding the real me,” and “getting ratio’d.”
“Okay, hear me out,” Jared says in the clip, rubbing his chin like he’s about to drop the hottest take since pineapple on pizza. “So, like, I just learned about Ashura. It’s this big Shia Muslim thing where they mourn the death of Imam Hussein, right? And I’m like, wow. The black clothes. The processions. The flagellation. It’s giving… dark academia meets Hot Topic. It’s giving *The Crow*. It’s giving Wednesday Addams. Honestly? It’s just goth Halloween for people who are really, really, deeply committed to the aesthetic.”
The video then cuts to Jared looking off-camera, nodding sagely. “And I respect that. I respect the vibe. Maybe we could all learn something from that level of emotional commitment to a look.”
Look, I’m not saying Jared deserved to get ratio’d into the shadow realm. But I’m also not not saying that. Because what in the actual cultural appropriation, main-character-syndrome, late-stage-capitalism hell was that?
For the uninitiated, because apparently Jared didn’t even bother to Google this before filming a hot take: Ashura is one of the most significant days in the Islamic calendar, particularly for Shia Muslims. It marks the martyrdom of Imam Hussein, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, at the Battle of Karbala in 680 AD. It’s a day of profound grief, self-reflection, and communal mourning that commemorates a stand against tyranny. It is not a costume party. It is not a vibe check. And it is most definitely not an excuse to say “yas queen” to a religious practice that involves actual bloodshed and centuries of trauma.
But Jared? Jared saw a ritual of mourning and thought, “This would be a great aesthetic for my next Pinterest board.”
The backlash was immediate, merciless, and frankly, beautiful.
Within hours, the clip had been reposted to every corner of the internet. Twitter users, a group notoriously lacking in chill, sharpened their knives. Muslim creators, many of whom are used to having their faith reduced to a headline or a scare tactic, were absolutely done with this man’s nonsense.
“I can’t believe I have to say this,” tweeted one user with the username @actualmuslim, “but Ashura is not an aesthetic. It is not a mood board. It is a day of mourning for the massacre of my Prophet’s family. Please log off forever.”
Another user, a historian, piled on: “This is the same energy as saying ‘the Holocaust is giving minimalist decor’ or ‘the Rwandan genocide is a vibe for my fall capsule wardrobe.’ Read a book. And then throw that book at Jared.”
Reddit, naturally, had a field day. The r/AITA subreddit was flooded with posts asking if Jared was the asshole. The consensus was a resounding, almost musical YTA. Some highlights from the thread:
- “YTA. Not just for the video, but for the fact that you thought this was a good idea. You had time to film, edit, add a caption, and hit post. Not once did a single brain cell fire off a warning signal. That’s impressive in the worst way.”
- “YTA. You saw a religious community grieving a 1,400-year-old tragedy and your first thought was ‘this is my aesthetic.’ That’s not being spiritual. That’s being a raccoon in a trench coat.”
- “Info: Are you trying to get canceled so you can launch a mediocre podcast? Because this feels like a career move.”
Even the bots were angry. One automated account replied to Jared’s video with a simple: “This content violates our community guidelines regarding misinformation and hate speech. Additionally, please touch grass.”
So what does Jared think now? In a now-deleted follow-up video, a tearful Jared tried to walk it back, claiming he was “just trying to appreciate other cultures” and that he “didn’t mean to offend anyone.” He blamed the backlash on “cancel culture” and said people were “too sensitive.”
“I was just trying to find common ground,” he sniffled, mascara definitely not running because he didn’t commit to the goth look hard enough. “I thought if I could relate it to something I know, like Halloween, it would be more accessible.”
Ah yes. The classic “I was trying to help” defense. A tried-and-true method used by every cultural appropriator since Miley Cyrus tried to twerk her way into sensitivity.
Here’s the thing, Jared: You don’t get to use someone else’s trauma as a conversation starter. You don’t get to reduce a millennia-old religious practice to a costume choice. And you definitely don’t get to play the victim when the community you just disrespected tells you to sit down and shut up.
Ashura isn’t “goth Halloween.” Halloween is a night of costumes and candy, where you pretend to be something you’re not for fun. Ashura is a day where millions of people remember a real death, a real injustice, and a real fight
Final Thoughts
Having spent years covering the rituals of faith across the Middle East, I can say that Ashura is far more than a mere day of mourning; it is a profound, living testament to the political and spiritual defiance of tyranny that resonates deeply in both Sunni and Shia traditions. The raw, visceral display of grief, whether through blood donation or the rhythmic chest-beating, serves not just as a reenactment of a 7th-century tragedy, but as a contemporary, unflinching declaration that the fight for justice against oppression is eternal. Ultimately, what strikes me most is the human resilience in this ritual—a community turning profound historical loss into a powerful, unifying force that continues to shape identity and conscience in a region so often defined by conflict.