Last month, I had a personal essay published on Huffington Post. I wrote about the challenges of being petite and mistaken for someone much younger on a regular basis. It was a small essay, about being small. I never expected it to go so big.
As a mostly literary writer, I had a decent track record of acceptances scattered among my big pile of rejections. My bylines had appeared in poetry journals and niche online magazines. I hadn’t published in many known venues, and I hadn’t tried to. I was intimidated, believing I lacked connections, know-how, and good ideas. One of my goals while working from home during the COVID-19 pandemic, after my freelance work went quiet, was to pitch bigger venues and land something beyond my comfort zone.
I picked up a book called The Byline Bible recommended in a Facebook group. The author, Susan Shapiro, has a great track record of publication and teaches courses on publishing non-fiction (I’m talking pragmatic nuts-and-bolts, not the “find your voice” stuff of my creative writing degree). I found her tips on pitching stories to be valuable. The HuffPost editor was interested in my personal essay topic right after I sent it, and accepted my article after substantial edits to draw out the themes. The editorial team smoothed over my literary stylings, adding click-ready quotes and a sensational title: “I’m An Adult Who Is Constantly Mistaken for a 12-Year-Old. This Is What My Life Is Like.”
They should have called it “A Woman Publishes An Essay. You Won’t Believe What Happened Next!” My social media outlets and inboxes were flooded with messages. I thought a few people would like the post on Facebook and then I’d make dinner, but the likes and comments kept pouring in. For the first few days, I tried to reply to everything. Then I discovered a further bunch of messages hidden in my Spam folder and gave up.
Most of the messages were from people who related to the article: petite women, shorter men, skinny and baby-faced folks who are mistaken for being younger, and various people who experience body shaming, judgment, or being physically “othered” in some form. Some sought advice (my recommendations are to cultivate and focus on skills and things that matter to you; this won’t make physical judgments go away but it will give you something to live for and be proud of).
A few people mentioned that my article had made them reflect on the impact of their words, a message I was honored to hear. Older readers shared “epilogues”: for some, strangers’ perceptions had improved as they got older; for others, they emphatically had not. Many thanked me and noted that this was the first time they had seen their experiences and struggles reflected in print. “I’m not alone,” many voices chorused.
On the day after my essay was published, I got a message starting “I saw your article in The Sun…” What?! I googled it and found that not one, but two British tabloids had printed stories based on my essay. Both had scoured my public social media for photographs to add to their paraphrases and quotes from my piece. Each had its own angle, focusing on the “outlandish” story without articulating the point I made at the end of my essay (that I hope the pandemic might lead people to focus more on resilience and less on judging each other’s physicality).
My first reaction was to laugh. How could anyone consider this news? My editor later confirmed that tabloids sometimes pick up stories from Huffington Post, but generally just the highly trafficked ones. It was truly bizarre to see my old, unflattering photos on the internet. However, I was grateful to have chosen my public presence carefully. Nothing in the tabloid articles went beyond “slightly awkward.” When you control your own angles and tell your own story, there is only so much that others can find on you.
Over the last month, things have simmered back to normal for my daily life following these 15 minutes of internet fame. A few more eyes are following my earnest little writing posts, and I hope that something in there speaks to them too. Regardless of the tabloid weirdness, internet trolls, and few unkind messages (another lesson from all of this is that my skin is thicker than I realized), I’m grateful that my words resonated with so many. If you’ve found my blog post through my “looking 12” essay, welcome. Welcome, and thank you, to everyone who’s seen themselves in my little-big story. You’re not alone. You are so much less alone than you might think.
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