Seek Embarrassment

For years, my peers came up to me with their phones shoved in my face saying, “Look! Look! It’s you!” Then burst out laughing. Hearing my voice project out of phones was one of the worst feelings of my entire middle school experience. I was embarrassed.

But I didn’t post for fun. I posted because I had to.

The truth is, we needed money. My dad was going through troubling times with his job, and the stress shook our whole family. All of a sudden, my stay-at-home Mom had to make a choice: lift us or watch it all fall. So she did something that makes zero sense — she became a comedian.

To attract an audience, my mom would stand on the streets of New York City for hours handing tickets out for free. Nobody took them. Nobody knew her. She just knew she had to get in front of an audience. So she performed underground — literally — in NYC subways, where her biggest fans were hobos and cockroaches.

To get her seen, we started posting her comedy on TikTok. I went to every show to get a clean, vertical recording and clips of the best jokes. Even though we had less than 100 followers, it felt like the right move.

But that came with a cost.

Instead of playing basketball after school or going on vacations, I was recording my mom’s sets, acting in skits, and editing videos. In middle school. Skits where I made jokes about my grades, looks, and fake girlfriends. Videos all my classmates would watch, and present to me like I hadn’t seen them already.

When I walked into class, I felt like every kid was whispering. You know that feeling when the teacher’s about to say your name wrong on the first day? That’s how it felt every period of 8th grade.

I had to choose: be embarrassed by classmates who found someone new to mock every day, or fight the war of survival with the one person who fought for me every day. I found great clarity in thinking through whether it was worth allowing anyone to embarrass me when I know that I’m doing the right thing. Just the act of sitting and thinking it all through made the decision clear.

So I stuck with it. Through all the mockery and paranoia, I kept posting.

It worked. It turned into over a million followers on both TikTok and Instagram. People now pay me for media advice so I can help them grow and lean into their embarrassment. I’m confident I can help, because my mom and I didn’t just talk about it — we lived it. We chased embarrassment at every turn.

We did what it took to be seen.

There have been so many embarrassing moments already, and there will be hundreds more. I say bring it on. If there’s one thing I’ve learned after seven years of friends laughing at me and strangers looking at me weirdly:

Whenever I feel embarrassed, I know i’m getting paid.