Musings on surpassing 1K digital followers
Yay, I think
Before you continue… 🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️
The people of South Sudan are experiencing one of the greatest humanitarian crises of our time. Being queer is criminalized here, and LGBTQI+ individuals are in constant danger due to state violence, religious persecution, and societal hate.
Sophie, a trans refugee living in Gorom Refugee Camp, asked me to share her recent interview to spread awareness. Click here for more ways to support.
Yesterday, I surpassed 1,000 followers on TikTok.
I’m well aware of the risk posting about vanity metrics on Substack of all places entails. I know we tend to be a bit of a purist artistic bunch here (why do you think im here). Numbers aren’t the main goal for most of us. They’re certainly not for me.
But they are indicators, however shallow, of the impact I’m having. I mean, it isn’t entirely insignificant to realize 1000 people have seen my face, heard my story, or listened to my music and said “give me more”.
As someone with a long history of speaking my truth only to realize it’s fallen on deaf (or worse, hostile) ears, there is an undercurrent of justice in the growth of my platform. As a trans woman, as a trauma survivor, and as someone with a physical disability, it feels rewarding not just to be heard, but to be amplified. Finally.
At the same time, I am aware of the responsibility and risks that come with this power. The more people listening to what I have to say, the greater the potential impact my words have—for better or worse.
Especially speaking on spiritual and political topics, misinformation can cause so much harm. Spiritual psychosis is very real; so is the brainwashing we are all subjected to on a daily basis by the empirical propaganda machine. There is very little room for neutrality in these spaces. Either we are actively deconstructing the illusions, or we are contributing to their stabilization. It is a daunting reality, but I do find relief when I remember we are all responsible for deconstructing the illusions around us, because we all have power to do so in our own ways. We are all powerful, not just those of us with a so-called “platform”. I would not speak down on the power my past self had, despite how often they were shunned and ignored.
That being said, I am so grateful for the platform I’ve received this year. This is a new, powerful, and special opportunity to speak my truth, share my story, and shape reality in the way only I can.
The voice is a threshold, where the spiritual becomes physical. It’s the point of our being where our vision often first takes a tangible form. Where brain waves (electromagnetic) turn into sound waves (material). Many of us underestimate how crucial this point of our being is, and the role it plays in shaping our reality.
For so long, I let others speak for me, and in doing so I gave them power over my reality. Call it whatever you want: a witch wound, internalized patriarchy, people pleasing, or simply habitualized self-abandonment due to the amount of times I was told as a child before dinner to “wash up, sit up, and shut up”, but it has been an exceedingly difficult journey aligning my voice to serve my own boundaries, needs, values, and desires as an adult.
It’s easy for me to speak up for others. Born the oldest of four children and a naturally sensitive soul, I was raised to look out for those with less power than me. As an adult, I became driven to do whatever I could to prevent others from suffering the way I’ve suffered. I love to give, I love to share, and I love using my voice to advocate for others.
But using my voice for myself? Creating the reality I want? Asking for what I want, and then waiting to receive it? The concept sat as an ominous black hole in my subconscious until it became clear the only real alternative was to become all but a trafficking victim of the greedy, overbearing, narcissistic archetype my lack of self-advocacy ruthlessly attracted into my life. I wish I could say I was kidding, but with this type of person, it really is “give them an inch and they’ll take a mile” — to the extreme.
Sidebar: People pleasing can be dangerous. Especially if you’re a minority. I see people joking about it sometimes and it’s sickening to realize how many people are unaware of the devastating life consequences this subconscious, compulsive behavioral pattern can create. People pleasing is also a form of manipulation. That’s for another day. But these are two really solid reasons to lock tf in and do whatever it takes to uproot people pleasing from your life if you struggle with it. If you’d like personalized support on your healing journey from someone who’s been through the wringer and has a badass somatic toolkit for finding freedom within, I have availability:
This year, I broke the cycle. I cut ties with people who didn’t value my voice. I cut ties with people who pretended to value my voice, but whose actions spoke otherwise. I cut ties with habits I was using to fill the void my voice was meant to fill. I released my first album. I released a rap song with the word “cunt” in it (lol I know—don’t care). I started posting a video every day. I started writing and pressing Post as often as I could, even when I didn’t know what I was writing about. I became much more okay with disappointing people, hurting their feelings, and pissing them off in pursuit of honoring my boundaries, my needs, my values, and my desires.
Is it easy for me now? Fuck no. Has it been a rough journey? Fuck yes. Will I say it even if my voice shakes? 100000000%. Is it worth it? FUUUUCK YES.
I may be a teensy bit homeless right now (learning to speak up for yourself unfortunately does not negate the consequences of past silence, ambivalence, and inaction), but I am freer than I have ever been in my life. My voice is aligning with the rest of my being, and so many incredible opportunities have unfolded for me as a result.
I am so grateful for this season. As challenging and chaotic as it has been, the reward is my voice—a treasure comparable to no other, for within it lies the power of creation and destruction. You can’t buy that shit.
I win.
Love,
MOXIE MAVERICK
P.S. Do you believe small artists deserve to get paid? Streaming services don’t. To support my work, visit my tip jar or buy my debut ep on bandcamp:
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