Six Bizarre Inconveniences of Being a Micro-Celebrity Online
2. My public persona is a very realistic mask.
The online era means pretty much anyone can become a micro-influencer. Even someone like me! All you need is a loud enough voice. To my continual surprise, over the past three years, I’ve developed that voice.
Today, I am minorly important and influential in a very small corner of the internet. It’s not arrogant to say this, though it feels like it.
It’s not all roses, though. I’m very glad I write online under a pen name since it gives me a curtain to draw between my public existence and career, and my private self.
I’m super lucky to get to do this, but this lifestyle also comes with some unexpected downsides. I never saw this behind-the-curtains action when I dreamed of becoming famous, so I wanted to share this with anyone else who believes they want this kind of lifestyle.
cw: language in a screenshot of a comment I received.
“I feel like I know you.”
It’s disorienting: whenever I get on a call with someone, they usually know far more about me than I do about them. They can quote my tea preferences (peppermint), my linguistic mannerisms (I say y’all), and even my cats’ names (Astrid and Chumbo). This isn’t because they’re stalkers — it’s just because I post about my life online.
It means I start off nearly every new relationship feeling off-balance. Potential sponsors, clients, and business partners know me through my YouTube channel or my blog.
For the most part, I feel positive about this. It means I’m so authentically myself that people who have never met me feel like they know who I am. That’s a pretty wild achievement.
But I never get used to hearing “I feel like I know you!” when I meet someone for the first time.
My public persona is a very realistic mask.
When I’m Zulie online, I try my hardest to be positive, rational, calm, energetic, happy, and helpful at all times.
I try to be like that in normal life too, but it’s a different beast. My friends allow me to be petty, judgy, contrary. My audience does not.
I’m sure you can imagine some days I wake up and do not feel like serving Professional Zulie up. But when I film, write, post, stream, or otherwise post content online, that’s what I deliver. I’ve made my personality my brand.
This is the trippiest adjustment for me. It’s more to do with what I expect from myself rather than what my audience wants from me, but it’s a real issue for me nonetheless.
I’m big enough to be a threat.
For most folks online, we know my audience size is negligible. A blog and 16k YouTube followers are no big deal. But because I have an audience of any size, it means I can become a target, and “haters” have something to take away from me.
I use the word “haters” in quotes because I very rarely deal with the kind of internet abuse many other creators (especially women, especially people of color) deal with, but it did happen recently. I made a video and article about child influencers, and one of the child influencer moms took offense.
For about 72 hours, my website, inbox, and social media received dozens of angry and aggressive messages, including threats of legal action. Nothing ever happened — I wasn’t sued, my video wasn’t taken down — but it was still a bizarre experience.
If I’d written the post or published the video to a non-existent audience, I expect the mom would not have taken retaliatory action. But because I do have an audience, she was threatened.
The expectation of free work.
Sean Kernan summed it up best:
Despite publishing regular resources that transparently detail how I do what I do, I get a near-constant influx of requests that boil down to: can you give me free advice?
Many people see my position as something they are owed. I have received more requests for my personal mobile number (presumably so I can give personalized, on-demand help?) or to “just” promote their article to my newsletter more times than I could count.
The most irritating thing is I’ve already answered most questions I receive! The asker has simply not even gone to the trouble of googling before hitting my inbox with yet another request.
Comments on my appearance.
This is more on the YouTube side of things than the blogging side. Again, I don’t have it as bad as many other creators, but I still get a disproportionate amount of comments on the way I look: my makeup choices, my eyebrow grooming, my outfits, my body, my attractiveness (or lack thereof).
For the most part, these are good-natured. But if I were in an office, it would be considered inappropriate to tell me I should dress up more, or wear less makeup. When I became a micro-celebrity, I apparently waived that right to professionalism.
My heroes don’t always like me.
I recently found out one of the writers I admire most blocked me. I can guess why — my content isn’t to their taste — and I respect their decision to do so. But it sucks.
In anonymity, I could curate my online experience with no limitations. Now I have an audience, a voice, a platform, it’s a little hurtful to find out some people don't like what I have to say, especially from the folks I look up to.
That’s life! Not everyone will like you, no matter what you do. But when I got a little bit “famous,” it meant what I posted online had bigger ramifications to my relationships. I could annoy people enough to make them want me to go away.
Being a micro-celebrity is not what I expected.
When I was younger, I dreamed of being a famous author or actor. I thought being well-known would be fun and validating. In a lot of ways, it is.
It’s flattering and humbling and amazing when I get requests to cover a topic in a YouTube video, or when someone lets me know an article was helpful to them. I am so lucky to live in a world where what I do is a viable career choice. I have merch on my website! That real people have actually purchased! Not just my mom!
But becoming a micro-celebrity also came with a whole host of unexpected baggage. If this is a lifestyle you want — and it’s a great lifestyle! — just make sure you go into it with your eyes wide open.
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