Be a Person, Not a Brand

As a freelance writer, a lot of the advice I’ve come across for building a blog, a client base, and social media following all boils down to one mantra, humming over and over and over:

Build your brand.

It’s the mantra of many a millennial. In the internet age, the dream is that we can all achieve success with our passions. We just have to market ourselves enough, post on social media enough, add a healthy dose of capitalism, and boom. The career of our dreams.

The phrase means that if you want to be an entrepreneur or creative, if you want to have a nontraditional career where you work from home or build a business, you must market yourself, sell yourself like a product. You must create an empire of one: you.

Every time I hear that phrase, build your brand, my soul shrinks back and grits its teeth, as if my entire being has just bitten into a metaphysical lemon. The mantra sounds good, and it’s worked, really well, for a lot of people. And I’m happy for them; I really am. But the idea at the root of branding yourself is one that absolutely terrifies me, because I think the implications of it go farther than we’re willing to consider.

A brand is a created entity. A brand is something a corporation makes to sell another thing. A brand is a surface-level household name constructed to be consumed. Oreos: you eat them. Nikes: you wear them. Sharpies: you bleed them dry. (I think I have a future in slogan writing, by the way.)

The truth is, human beings are so much more valuable than that. Humans are fragile and strong. We are terrifying and beautiful. We fly high and sink low. We are perfect and flawed, and the work we create is the same. There is so much more to us than the selling of a product or service.

Maybe you insist that I’m misunderstanding this phrase. Maybe it doesn’t mean what I’m taking it to mean. But then I have to ask: why are we using words like “brand” to describe people? People, with minds and souls that are somehow, magically, blessedly able to transcend the physical and inject everyday life with resilience and beauty and hope. The term “brand” to describe personhood is not just inappropriate; it’s insulting. Perhaps by using such paltry words to describe something so inherently magnificent, we are unconsciously saying what we tend to believe. Perhaps we are falling into the universal human trap: to take something valuable and trash it.

I’ve tried, as a writer, to build my brand, to treat my craft like a business and my self like a product. I’ve tried to blog in a way that sells, with flashy catchphrases and trendy buzzwords. I’ve tried to use social media to optimize my followers, with perfectly-curated pictures and relatable captions. I’ve tried to make flimsy business connections that are no more than a click on a web platform.

And all due respect to those who’ve achieved great success this way, but it’s not for me. When I write, I want it to be what I was born to say. When I post photos and say things online, I want it to be sharing something beautiful and making someone laugh. When I meet people, I want it to be in person, and I want it to be a real relationship.

The build-your-brand mentality may seem innocuous, but the problem is that this mentality doesn’t stay in the business world; it seeps into our mental states and social lives and personal development. I see a generation just a little younger than me growing up thinking that it’s normal to always be building yourself as a marketable image, never getting the chance to close the blinds, loosen up, have fun, and just be a person. I see us unable to accept each other as complex, three-dimensional people, instead choosing to commodify each other, to buy each other and throw each other away. I see us compromising the purity of our passions, crafts, and trades in the name of what seems like an easy ticket to a career. The internet may allow us to pursue our vocations like never before, but it has the danger of making our vocations the only thing people see in us. And this is a tragic, tragic thing.

So please: don’t be a brand. Be a person. It’s awkward and painful and vulnerable, but it’s also wild and beautiful and unique. You can create and accomplish far more meaningful things, a far more meaningful life, by just being a person. Because you already have, and you already are.

New Year’s Writelutions

I’ve always been idealistic when it comes to New Year’s resolutions. As a young teen my diaries were filled with ideas on how to better improve myself. These grandiose plans were soon followed by a painful sense of guilt as the year wore on, because I could never seem to reach my own expectations. By the time Auld Lang Syne rolled around again, I was still behind in the goals I wanted to reach, the parts of myself I desperately needed to change.

By this logic, I should have never changed as a person at all. But I did, because unbeknownst to me, One who knew better was washing out other imperfections, chiseling other corners, and polishing other facets.

It’s taken me a long time to trust Him for that.

Guilt is a horrible motivator. Because of guilt I’ve done good deeds without love, I’ve followed the rules without conviction, and I’ve accommodated others without generosity. Guilt does not make me a better writer, a better Christian, a better person. It makes me desperately try to prove that I can swim on my own until I drown myself.

Guilt is a lot of who I am, for different reasons. Guilt plugs the holes in my bones. Removing it bit by bit will leave me a little fragile, for a time, until the empty spaces are filled with something stronger.

I read a post about resolutions this week, and the writer Lily Dunn offered a unique look at them. She writes that instead of a list of goals to accomplish for the new year, she tries to encapsulate all of her goals in one word, and to go after that concept throughout the year. It sounds complicated, but instead it’s incredibly simple. You choose a word to describe what you’d like to emerge more as by the end of the year. For her, 2016 will be about “mindfulness”.

I love this idea, because it leaves guilt out of the equation. It simply asks you to improve. It echoes the homeschooler’s mantra: “did you make progress?”

So this year, my one-word resolution is “joy”. More specifically, to “take joy”. God never promises us happiness, but He does promise, and even commands, joy. In the past few months I’ve been astounded in the ways, both enormous and minuscule, that He keeps that promise and provides for that command.

So although as a writer, I am setting practical (and probably futile) goals for the year, I am ultimately making three soft, gentle resolutions to grow in joy:

Engage with the community both online and in person,

Write from the heart whether it’s pretty or not, and

To Take Joy in every moment as the ultimate story unfolds.

Prayerfully as I grow in joy, the other imperfections, corners, and facets will be more easily taken care of.

I’ll leave that to the One who knows what He’s doing.

 

take a look at Lily Dunn’s beautiful post and tell me your resolutions (whether its one word or more) below! I wish a blessed and joyful new year – minus 11 days – for you all.