First, I was Gabriela. Then, the world named me Gaby — I'm not even joking; the second I tell someone my name, they immediately start calling me Gaby. I'm like, "Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my first name, so don't shorten it, maybe?"
And yet, I persisted and tried to become a writer using my real, full name.
I was determined to become the one Mexican writer who made it writing online. I thought that when people came across my stories, they would look at my very obviously non-white name and pause, but then, seduced by the cleverness of my titles and my undisputable writing talent, they would have no choice but to read my ramblings.
Therefore, on Medium, on Substack, on Twitter, on Instagram, and everywhere else, I was Me, the real me, hoping to get some acknowledgment and, yes, some cash too.
Be careful what you wish for…
To my surprise, I started getting a bit of traction. No, it wasn't a monumental success, but I was receiving engagement, followers, and feedback, and I started to think my dream would come true.
Boy, did I get a lesson on the value of anonymity…
A Double Life
When I started writing online, my words were very harmless. I was fresh from a stretch as a biohacking self-help gal — yes, we exist — and was ready to spell the gospel of the 5-am Club and how all you needed to succeed in life was to work a bit harder.
However, once I started reading more and experienced significant changes in my life, my writing underwent a massive transformation.
To my surprise, I found myself writing poetry, very vulnerable personal essays, sex-related stories, a bit of memoir, and even some humor and satire.
What was happening to me?
Did I stop pretending rules exist? Did I finally allow the real writer in me to come forward? One day, I will find out…
Still, this new writing style came with a set of issues. You see…I have another life, and in that one, it is still not entirely safe for me to write about what I write.
Maybe in your particular situation, you feel like feminism has prevailed, and there's no need for a woman to hide anything anymore. However, I will go ahead and remind you that your environment is not everybody's environment and that some of us still need to play it safe.
I live in a context in which, because I sometimes write about sex, it must mean I'm a “slut,” and if I'm a slut, then I'm not a good person and deserve some punishment.
Suddenly, being the real me online didn't feel safe anymore, and things got worse when I decided to google myself.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Musing About by GB Rogut to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.