“I swear,” I said with a bright smile, speaking to the audience, guests, and Graham, “that’s exactly what happened.” I fiddled with my earring — it was a nervous tic I had ever since I decided to pierce my cartilage in an attempt to be “edgy.” Seated on the orange couch along with me were celebrities I had admired for the entirety of my youth, watching their films each weekend, reading their interviews in between classes, and (as much as I wished it was not true) watched their fan-cams on Twitter.
The crowd’s laughter filled the auditorium, and a smile grew on my face as they listened to my story about being on the set of a film. The crowds at live shows always laughed no matter what I — or any of the other guests said — in an attempt to please everyone. I’d been here before, but each time I sat down, I always seemed to discuss something about myself with the six-hundred forty audience members, as well as the other guests, that I would have been typically too afraid to share with any of my friends.
I turned to face the audience, but instead of seeing rows of smiling British people (an oxymoron, I know), my reflection stared back at me in my bedroom mirror. There was no audience, no celebrities, and definitely no orange couch or Graham Norton. Instead, it was me, clad in pajamas instead of a designer dress, sitting upright on my bed in the middle of the night staring at the long mirror tacked onto the back of my closet door.
While it is an incredibly embarrassing habit of mine, I know I am not the only person who regularly pretends to be on The Graham Norton Show when they have trouble sleeping. As much as I think I would make a great guest on a talk show, I honestly, genuinely believe that I would not make a good celebrity.
When I am not on The Graham Norton Show at midnight, I usually scroll through Twitter (clearly, I am never sleeping). During these midnight Twitter endeavors, I often come across average users moving to cancel various celebrities. As much as I hate to admit it, I can be very obsessed with celebrity culture. (I have been extremely honest so far, so why would I stop now?) So naturally, when I see someone on social media (Twitter, I am looking at you) canceling a celebrity I am a fan of, I check it out. While these Tweets have been alarming and worrisome in the past — more often than not, these Tweets discuss something incredibly minor.
As much fun as I think it would be to wear designer dresses, post cool photos on Instagram, and be on late-night talk shows, the fear of being blacklisted for something silly terrifies me. The fact that someone would probably wake up one morning with the urge to share their hatred for me with the world terrifies me. I do not want someone to try and cancel me for liking Ed Sheeran’s music (it is good) or saying The Great Gatsby is my favorite novel. (If I ever do become famous, please do not use these things against me.) I realized — after much introspection — why I have a weird desire to be famous.
I want people to like the personality I put on for the world.
Being famous is the easiest way to validate that personality.
People who believe validation is not something they crave are lying to themselves. People need to be validated, no matter how terrible it sounds. Validation “is the recognition and acceptance of another person’s thoughts, feelings, sensations, and behaviors as understandable.” When we think of people we admire, they typically possess certain qualities that we hope to have. Two of my biggest idols are stand-up comedian John Mulaney and musical artist Maggie Rogers (if you Googled them, you get bonus points), and, while they are nothing alike, both possess qualities that I wish I had. John Mulaney is hilarious, classic, and put-together. Maggie Rogers is courageous, outspoken, and unique. These are qualities that I aspire to have, and while I have them to an extent, I have trouble displaying them to the world.
At the beginning of my high school career, I was a rather quiet and reserved kid (to an extent, I still am, but I have branched out more). People would tell me that I could “be myself” around them and that it was okay to “speak up.” I felt like the personality I portrayed to everyone at school was not enough and that I had to be someone different to please them. While close friends and family knew that I was funny, outgoing, and dressed the way I wanted to, a majority of the people in my life knew me as the “smart kid.” (To this day, I am still the kid that everyone asks what they got on the math exam, and if I did poorly, they feel better about themselves. While it is slightly flattering, it makes me feel more like an outcast.)
Hollywood seems eerily similar to a high school. As someone who is a little too familiar with being a teenager, high school was about who you are and what you do. Hollywood is also about who you are and what you do — except on a much grander scale. Celebrities “move easily between the elite and the masses, to be aspirational and approachable at once.” Essentially Celebrities “put on a personality,” or another version of themselves, for the world. While I have evolved and become more comfortable in my skin (the “E” in my ENTJ personality came through during the first quarantine), I still find myself resorting t0 the more quiet and reserved version of myself when I am with people who have known me for a while because that is “what they expect” of me.
Celebrities, understandably, do not showcase every aspect of their personality. It makes sense that they would keep certain parts of their life private. In fact, they should keep some things private (I am looking at you, the Kardashian-Jenner clan). But, for people to like them and want to watch their movies, listen to their music, and read their books, they have to be likeable. They have to put on a personality- or a version of themselves- that compels people, that attracts people to them.
Similarly, in my experience (and many others) in high school, I was expected to act a specific way to get more people to like me — even if this was not who I “really was.” We are “more or less conditioned to immediately compare that instinct to what others would consider ‘right.’” I have always found that it is harder to bring more genuine aspects of your personality to light around people you do not know, but, in my opinion, this is what makes our relationships with others so unique. We find various characteristics about each other that compel us — or attract us — to other people. Much like the way we are when sharing the celebrities we are a fan of, the people we surround ourselves with in real life have qualities that we also have or qualities we wish we had.
Ultimately, we should stop trying to be the version of ourselves that we believe people will like the most. I know it’s cliché, but everything would be so much easier if we were true to ourselves. If you are a private person and hide behind the book you are reading in class, great! If you are willing to share with a bunch of readers that you pretend to go on The Graham Norton Show when you have trouble sleeping, that’s fine too! (Future-me is probably going to look back on this article one day and scream. Hi Future-me! Hope all is well!)
So, if I am ever famous, I will do my best to be my genuine self in front of the eyes of that many people. I have learned, in my everyday life, that being more comfortable in your own skin is something that takes practice. My best “advice,” if that is what I can call it, is something that I said to myself in the eighth grade: be the person you wish to become.
So, if I am famous one day, and you go on Twitter and try to cancel me for listening to Ed Sheeran or loving The Great Gatsby, I will not apologize. I genuinely like those things.
Annaliese Baker is a 17-year-old writer native to Chicago, Illinois. She has written with ChiTeenLit Fest, Germ Magazine, and The Goodman Theatre.
