One month ago, hackers locked me out of a community it took me years to build, costing me thousands of dollars. And no one knows how to fix it
The Times
For the past seven years, I have built a community on Instagram offering support and advice for women navigating infertility.
This year, I counted 29,400 hard-earned Instagram followers. My podcast has nearly 400 episodes and more than 2.3 million global downloads. Now my full-time business, Infertile AF Group — which includes support groups and a line of children’s books — makes six figures a year through brand partnerships, having grown every year since launch.
These aren’t just numbers. They represent a deeply engaged online community, filled with people who rely on me for support and information.
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Then, around 5pm on Friday, March 6, I received a disturbing email:
Take action or lose access to infertileafstories
Your Instagram account has been suspended. This is because your account, or activity on it, doesn’t follow our Terms of Use on who can use Instagram.
If you think we made a mistake, you have until September 2, 2026 to appeal.
If you don’t take action, your account will be permanently disabled.
When I hit the button that said “Review Details”, it took me to another message:
We disabled your account
You no longer have access to infertileafstories
Your account, or activity on it, doesn’t follow our Community Standards.
No one can see or find your account and you can’t use it.
All your information will be permanently deleted.
You cannot request another review of this decision.
I suspected my account had been hacked — I still don’t know by who. It had happened to me a year ago and that time I was able to ask a friend who works at Meta, the company that owns Instagram, to bail me out. My friend had sprung into action and my account was reinstated in less than 48 hours.
But this time was different. All my social media accounts — my business Instagram, my personal Instagram and my personal Facebook — were disabled. All were being “permanently deleted”, according to several subsequent emails from Meta.
Trying not to freak out, I texted my friend again, asking for help: “I just got a message from IG that my Infertileafstories account is locked out and is going to be permanently deleted. If there is anything you could do this weekend or Monday? I will pay you!”
“What the heck?” Meta friend said when I sent her screenshots. She submitted a ticket on my behalf.
Two days later, she texted: “I checked my work email and looks like they haven’t worked on the ticket yet. Unfortunately there isn’t another option to escalate this. This internal reporting system is the most I can do on my end. Just be patient. Given all of the current events I’m assuming it’s low on the priority list, but they always get to it.”
A month later, and nothing. I am told that at least six tickets have been submitted to Meta. Still, no resolution. Years of work, content, community and income had been hacked and deleted for no apparent reason. Not temporarily offline. Completely gone.
My user names do not exist. My password resets have failed. I’m in a Meta suspension loop, locked out of my own livelihood. Meanwhile, I’ve received two emails of suspicious log-ins from Beijing, China.
My story should serve as a cautionary tale for other entrepreneurs who depend on social media to identify and connect with their clientele. Instagram is used by more than 200 million businesses globally — and roughly one in four small businesses say social media is their primary marketing channel.
But for many of us, it’s not just a marketing tool, it is our business. Like millions of modern entrepreneurs, I don’t have a bricks and mortar storefront. My audience — and customer base — lives on social media. And when something in the infrastructure breaks, there’s no way to fix it.
Of course, I did everything I could. I asked friends to post about my plight on Instagram, seeing if anyone had an “in” at Meta.
I asked ChatGPT how to get my accounts back. I emailed my friend who’s a corporate lawyer. My husband emailed a friend who’s a hacker.
I posted about it on LinkedIn, a story that now has 54,000 impressions and reached more than 37,000 members. It has 162 reactions, 126 comments, 24 reposts. The support was reassuring. “So sorry to hear this,” one commenter said. “This happened to me, too,” another said. “F*** Meta,” many people said.
Glimmers of hope emerged. A co-worker from 20 years ago texted: “I have a badass friend who works at Meta and doesn’t take no for an answer.” Another former colleague DM’d: “Help is on the way! I have someone on the inside who can get this back for you!” Friends — and friends of friends — have been resourceful and wonderful.
But I still have heard nothing from Instagram. Friends at Meta say there’s nothing more they can do. I sent a request for comment to the press people at Meta three days ago and, as of publication, I still have not heard a peep.
Weeks have passed and I am no longer able to post about brand partners, doctors or clinics, share podcast clips or quotes, or promote my books. I’ve had to put the brakes on campaigns I had planned for months, including the announcement of my fourth children’s book. So far I’ve lost thousands of dollars in revenue and I continue to lose more each week this isn’t resolved.
And yet I’m still getting a monthly bill from Meta Verified for $15.98. I can’t cancel it — because I can’t get into my Instagram account.
Of course, this is all causing longer-term damage: disrupted growth, slowed momentum, the erosion of trust that comes from suddenly going dark.
Small businesses don’t have the luxury of pressing pause. We rely on consistency, visibility and connection. When those business pillars disappear, so does everything we depend on.
In the age of AI, the problem of hackers taking over accounts is no longer rare; it is routine. Hackers aren’t simply seeking attention; they want access — to advertising accounts, stored payment methods, personal data and, most importantly, established audiences. A trusted account can be repurposed to run scams, impersonate the owner, or be sold on to other bad actors.
Before I start another Instagram account from scratch — which sounds like another layer of hell — I’m still hopeful that someone at Meta will come through and reinstate my accounts.
While I wait, I’m asking a simple question: how is this possible — or even acceptable? If social media platforms are going to position themselves as essential tools for businesses, and profit from them, then they must also take responsibility for protecting businesses like mine.
So do better, Meta. For me, and for the millions of other small business owners who have trusted you, who have poured their hearts into you, and who have built something meaningful on your fragile foundations.
And to my fellow content creators: beware. What happened to me could happen to anyone.
Alison Prato is a writer, consultant, CEO, founder, and a mother-of-two living in New Jersey. For more on her work, go to Infertile AF Group.