Chaya Raichik’s Epstein Files: A White House Clout Grab

Oh, splendid, another day, another X influencer clutching a prop like it’s the last shred of dignity in a world gone mad. Enter Chaya Raichik—handle @ChayaRaichik10, because nothing says “influencer” like a late pivot to a personal account—who’s turned a knack for online venom into a White House photo op. On February 27, 2025, this paragon of MAGA virtue joined a cadre of right-wing X-listers to receive a binder labeled “The Epstein Files: Phase 1,” courtesy of Attorney General Pam Bondi. It’s being hyped as a grand showdown, a transparency win, a justice-soaked triumph. Spoiler: it’s none of that. It’s a sad grab for relevance so mired in recycled drivel it’s barely worth the pixels. But here we are, trudging through it with the zeal of a tax clerk on a rainy Tuesday—because why not?

Raichik emerges from the White House, binder in tow, flanked by Rogan O’Handley, Jack Posobiec, Liz Wheeler, and other MAGA X-listers—like a low-rent Justice League, each waving their own copy of this alleged bombshell. The binders, stamped with the Justice Department seal and “Phase 1” in bold, look official if you ignore that they’re just 200 pages of flight logs and contacts—stuff that’s been festering online since your aunt discovered spam forwards. Raichik posts a pic on X, beaming like she’s unearthed Cleopatra’s tomb, captioning it with some rote spiel about truth prevailing. Transparency’s here, she insists, and Trump’s crew is the most open ever. Sure, Chaya—if “open” means handing stale PDFs to influencers instead of posting them for the plebs to skim. This isn’t a revelation; it’s a pantomime of one.

Let’s peel back this onion of self-importance, because if Raichik’s basking in the spotlight, we might as well catalog the mundane road that got her here—every last dreary detail. Born in 1991 or 1992—accounts vary, and she’s not exactly forthcoming—she grew up in Los Angeles as one of seven kids in an Orthodox Jewish family. Her father, Yossi, ran a jewelry business; her mother, Miriam, juggled the brood. Details are thin, but she attended Bais Chaya Mushka, a Chabad girls’ school, where she likely soaked up the religious rigor that later fueled her disdain for anything remotely progressive. No tales of childhood rebellion or quirky hobbies—just a blank slate of suburban normalcy, as thrilling as beige paint drying.

Post-high school, Raichik’s trajectory gets marginally less dull. She studied at Touro College’s Lander College for Women in New York, a kosher choice for Orthodox girls, graduating around 2012 or 2013—dates are fuzzy, because who cares? She then schlepped into real estate, selling condos in Brooklyn’s Williamsburg neighborhood by 2018. Public records peg her at a 2-bedroom co-op she flipped in 2020 for $535,000—not bad, but hardly Trump Tower material. Before that, she bounced around—lived in Flatbush, worked stints in Long Island and Manhattan, possibly as a leasing agent or office drone. Her LinkedIn’s a ghost town, but she was no mogul—just a 20-something grinding in a market that chews up ambition and spits out monotony.

Raichik’s pre-fame digital footprint is a patchwork of petty chaos. She ran a blog called “Frum Female” in the early 2010s, whining about Orthodox dating woes—imagine Sex and the City with more guilt and less cosmos. By 2015, she’d married Marcus Herman, a doctor she met through the Jewish dating scene, and they settled into a humdrum life in Brooklyn. No kids, no drama—just a couple clocking time. Her early X presence, under handles like @shaya_ray, was a mess of COVID denialism, election fraud rants, and Jan. 6 cheerleading—she tweeted about heading to D.C. to “support Trump,” but claims she stayed outside the Capitol, calling it “mostly peaceful.” Cute, if you squint past the insurrection vibes.

Her real estate gig faded by 2020, and Raichik pivoted to what would become her meal ticket: Libs of TikTok. Launched in November 2020 as @TheRightSide2, it morphed through handles—@cuomomustgo, @houseinhouse—before settling on @LibsofTikTok in April 2021. She started reposting TikToks of left-wing and LGBTQ+ folks, lacing them with mocking captions—think mean-girl energy with a side of sanctimony. It was anonymous then, a Brooklyn nobody’s side hustle, until it caught fire among right-wingers. By late 2021, she’d registered Libs of TikTok LLC in Delaware, hiding behind a proxy, and was raking in 65,000 followers—peanuts compared to her later 4.2 million, but enough to quit selling condos.

Raichik’s big break came in April 2022 when Taylor Lorenz of The Washington Post unmasked her, linking her to the account via public domain records—she’d registered LibsofTikTok.us without anonymizing it, a rookie move. She cried “doxxing,” but the cat was out, and she leaned in. By December 2022, she debuted her face on Tucker Carlson’s Fox show, vowing in-person crusades against the “LGBTQ+ cult.” Her posts—smearing trans kids, teachers, drag queens—started sparking real-world fallout: bomb threats to hospitals (Boston Children’s, 2022), schools (21 tied to her by 2023), libraries (Davis, CA, 2023). She shrugged it off, claiming no proof her 4.2 million followers were to blame—because plausible deniability’s her jam.

How’d she snag a White House invite? Simple: clout and chaos. By February 2025, Raichik’s Libs of TikTok was a MAGA megaphone, amplifying Trump’s “America First” gospel to millions. Her bomb-threat-linked rants—SPLC dubbed her an “anti-LGBTQ+ extremist” in 2024—made her a darling of the alt-right. Trump’s team, eager to bypass “legacy media,” tapped her for the Epstein Files “Phase 1” drop—15 binders for 15 influencers, including her, Posobiec, O’Handley, Wheeler. Bondi handed them out, Trump and Vance posed, and FBI Director Kash Patel nodded along, calling them “trusted media.” It was a reward for her years of stirring the pot, from Brooklyn obscurity to X infamy.

The binders? A dud—200 pages of old flight logs (Trump, Clinton, billionaires) and contacts, public since 2019. Wheeler griped about no “juicy stuff”; Posobiec teased “more to come”; Raichik just smiled, basking in the prop’s glow. Loomer raged it was a pedophile cover-up—ironic, given her own conspiracies—while Rep. Anna Paulina Luna called it “underwhelming.” Raichik’s followers wanted a hit list; they got a paperweight. The DOJ posted it online hours later: “Yeah, it’s old, deal with it.”

Her pre-X life’s a snooze: no scandals, just a real estate grind and Orthodox angst. Post-unmasking, she’s milked every drop—pushing No More Secrets (2024), a kids’ book on “woke indoctrination,” praised by Trump. Married life? Still with Marcus, now in Florida, no kids—maybe too busy hating. She’s a chaos agent who turned snark into a binder-waving moment, but it’s as thrilling as a tax form. The hype’s fading, the binders are dust traps, and the world’s moved on. Keep clutching that trophy, Chaya—it’s your peak, and it’s dull as dishwater.