‘Hawk Tuah’ influencer Hailey Welch says failed memecoin launch left her “traumatized” and warns fans to avoid crypto.
Social media personality Hailey Welch, better known online as the “Hawk Tuah girl” after her viral video moment, has opened up about how a disastrous memecoin launch tied to her name spiraled into a mental health crisis and made her deeply wary of the crypto world.
In a recent interview with Andrew Callaghan for his Channel 5 program, Welch described how she was persuaded to lend her image to a cryptocurrency project called HAWK in 2024, despite having almost no understanding of how digital assets work. The coin, which tried to capitalize on her sudden internet fame, exploded in value within hours of launching – and then collapsed just as quickly, leaving angry investors and a wave of backlash in its wake.
Welch said she was “talked into” participating in the project by people around her who presented it as an easy opportunity. Looking back, she framed it as a hard lesson in how dangerous it can be to attach your name to complex financial products you don’t understand.
According to Welch, she never handled any of the funds raised from the HAWK token and didn’t have the technical skills to create or manage a cryptocurrency. She emphasized that she was essentially a marketing face, not a developer or organizer, and that all of the crypto mechanics were handled by others on the team behind the coin.
After the token collapsed, the situation escalated into a full-blown legal and reputational crisis. Welch said she cooperated fully with a Federal Bureau of Investigation inquiry in 2025. The probe, she noted, cleared her of wrongdoing and confirmed that she did not control any of the proceeds from the launch. Her role was limited to promotion, and investigators did not find evidence that she had orchestrated or benefited from a rug pull.
Welch also claimed that the financial damage to individual retail buyers, while very real, was smaller than many people assumed based on the coin’s early headline-grabbing valuation. Citing an estimate from her lawyer, she said the aggregate losses suffered by “real people” – ordinary retail participants rather than large traders – totaled around 200,000 dollars.
Despite that figure being relatively modest compared with the multi-million-dollar implosions seen in other crypto scandals, the public backlash against Welch was intense. She recounted receiving death threats and facing a torrent of online harassment after the HAWK token crashed, which led her to withdraw from public view and keep a low profile for months. The ordeal, she said, left her shaken and had a serious impact on her mental health.
The emotional fallout, in Welch’s words, was “traumatizing.” She described feeling trapped between internet fame she never fully sought and the expectations and rage of a community that blamed her for their losses. The experience has turned her into an outspoken critic of celebrity-backed crypto projects and a cautionary example of how quickly influencer-driven hype can turn toxic.
However, her explanation has not satisfied everyone. Prominent onchain investigator ZachXBT publicly rejected the idea that Welch deserves sympathy for the “trauma” she describes. According to his account, Welch first tested the waters by posting about memecoins, received widespread warnings from crypto users not to launch her own token, and then went ahead anyway.
He argued that after the HAWK coin debuted, Welch distanced herself from the project, pointed fingers at partners, then largely disappeared from social media while many of her followers were left holding heavy losses. From this perspective, her attempt to frame herself as naïve and misled downplays her role in promoting a highly speculative asset to a fanbase that trusted her.
The market behavior of the HAWK memecoin was extreme even by crypto’s volatile standards. The token launched in December 2024 and rocketed to a market capitalization reportedly exceeding 490 million dollars within mere hours. The surge reflected the powerful combination of internet virality, meme culture, and speculative trading that has fueled many memecoin manias in recent years.
Yet the hype was short-lived. Within a day, HAWK’s value had collapsed by more than 91 percent, dropping its market cap to around 41 million dollars. The speed and scale of the crash led many observers to label the project a classic “rug pull” – a scenario where insiders allegedly pump a token’s price, then dump their holdings and abandon the project, leaving retail buyers holding the bag.
In the aftermath, legal pressure shifted toward the entities and team members that structured and launched the coin. An investor lawsuit filed in December 2024 targeted those organizations, accusing them of selling unregistered securities and mishandling the offering. Notably, Welch herself was not named as a defendant in that civil case, even as she continued to face public criticism online.
For Welch, the HAWK episode has become a turning point in how she approaches her public image and business opportunities. She now explicitly tells her followers to stay away from crypto altogether, stressing that she still does not understand the sector even a year after the fiasco. Her stance has evolved from casual curiosity to outright rejection, shaped by the legal scrutiny, reputational damage, and psychological stress she endured.
The situation also highlights a broader pattern emerging over the last few years: viral internet personalities are increasingly courted to front financial products they barely grasp. Memecoins, in particular, are built to spread through jokes, catchphrases, and personality-driven marketing. This creates a perfect storm where young influencers with little financial literacy find themselves thrust into complex regulatory and ethical territory.
From a consumer protection standpoint, the HAWK case underlines how easily fans can conflate entertainment with financial advice. Many followers see influencers as friends or trusted voices, not as advertisers or promoters with legal disclaimers and hidden incentives. When those influencers begin endorsing highly speculative tokens, the boundary between playful meme and risky investment becomes dangerously blurred.
For creators, the lesson is equally stark. Welch’s experience shows that even if an influencer doesn’t control the technical or financial side of a token, their public endorsement can carry significant moral weight – and potentially reputational or even legal risks. Simply being “the face” of a project can be enough to become a target when things go wrong, regardless of formal responsibility.
There is also a mental health dimension that is often overlooked in coverage of memecoin blowups. Sudden fame can be destabilizing on its own; adding financial controversy, online mobs, and threats of violence compounds the pressure. Welch’s description of feeling traumatized reflects a growing pattern in which influencers find themselves unprepared for the scale of hostility that can follow a failed project, particularly in high-volatility spaces like crypto.
For everyday users, the story is a reminder to treat any celebrity or influencer-backed financial product with extreme caution. Memecoins are not simply joking tokens; they are speculative assets whose prices can swing wildly, often detached from any underlying value. A familiar face or viral catchphrase is not a substitute for due diligence, regulatory oversight, or a clear understanding of what you’re buying.
At the same time, the backlash against Welch illustrates how easily blame can be oversimplified in public discourse. Crypto projects involve developers, marketers, early investors, exchanges, and sometimes anonymous insiders. Assigning total responsibility to the most visible face – often the influencer – can obscure the roles of those who actually designed, launched, and profited from the token mechanics.
Welch’s stated desire now is to step back from anything resembling financial promotion and refocus on content that doesn’t involve investments. She uses her story as a warning: internet fame does not grant expertise in complex financial ecosystems, and quick-money offers tied to a viral moment often come with hidden costs.
Ultimately, the HAWK memecoin saga sits at the intersection of influencer culture, speculative finance, and regulatory gray areas. It shows how quickly a joke can turn into a high-stakes financial event, how fragile trust can be when money is lost, and how unprepared many online personalities are for the responsibilities that come with promoting risky products.
For those watching from the sidelines – whether fans, creators, or casual observers – the message is clear. Hype, memes, and personality-driven promotions may create explosive short-term gains, but when the music stops, the consequences are borne by real people. Welch’s experience, with its mix of legal investigation, investor losses, and personal trauma, is a stark case study in why both influencers and their audiences need to be far more skeptical of the next “fun” token promising easy profits.