I worked in construction for a while, and do you know what we did when we had a blank space that we were confident nobody but us was going to scrutinize? We drew dicks on it. Or some equivalent, because that's what bored people do to lighten up the monotony of doing the same goddamn thing every day in order to eat. If a blank space, idle time, and marking tools were present in the same vicinity, shit was gonna get marked. While the crude Sharpie mural of Harry Potter and Voldemort dueling with ejaculating dildo-shaped wands was certainly vulgar and objectionable, it wasn't a personal belief or a symptom of society, it was just the stupid shit I ejected from the same part of my brain that resents the fact that I'm not at home playing video games and getting a blowjob, as a means of catharsis so that I may continue to function on an otherwise professional level.
It's a sublimation of the much less-savory impulses that are inevitably conjured by labors of obligation, like the little stick figures you drew battling to the death in the margins of your school notebook. Those doodles were not a statement endorsing murder or a warning sign that you were a deeply disturbed individual preoccupied with violence (although I've met a distressing amount of state employees whose only job is to make those connections anyway); they were just a buildup of piss and vinegar leaping onto the nearest surface and saying "I'M OUT OF YOUR HEAD NOW, YOU CAN GET SHIT DONE AGAIN", and in the case of this story, the nearest surface was be a blank box with a blinking vertical line waiting for a label. So, when I see a big shit-slinging uproar about the state of society and the political climate between genders, springing forth from the split-second brain-purge of some code monkey working in a cubicle farm, all I can do is wonder if you all don't have better things to be doing.