I was eating lunch on campus last fall when I overheard a group of people talking about something I had written. They did not know I was the one behind it. I did not say anything, and I never did. This was not unusual, whether positive or negative, I was used to hearing people discuss my most personal sentiments aloud, having no idea that the girl at the table next to them was the one who shared them.
Maybe it’s because my ears are not as pointy in person? I’m not too sure!
I guess I am also not as outspoken in person, Becky’s most recognizable trait. I learned quickly as a teenager that loud girls are not liked. Any loud girls who are reading this know exactly what I mean.
I used to tell people they could try to guess who I was, but that it was likely they would never get it right because the real me is not nearly as outgoing. Every college party, big event invite, requests to meet up and hang out; it was all for Becky, not for Kayl. I preferred it that way for the most part, knowing that no matter what, I would get to express myself without the scrutiny of being, God forbid, a woman with an opinion. Having the account not only connected me to the SLU community, but gave me an outlet to share my thoughts on our political climate, attacks on marginalized groups, and life at a private Jesuit university as a queer person coming from an urban high school.
I have always been slow to open up to others. Becky gave me the chance to be myself in a safe way. It made me realize how beautiful it feels to trust and be trusted by strangers. It was eye-opening to realize that complete strangers could feel a sense of warmth and trust strong enough to open up about their lives. These people, people that I did not know and who did not know me, trusted me with information and vulnerability.
It made me realize that, as human beings, all we want is to be understood. I was so happy to provide that. Every message from someone venting about their long-distance relationship, roommate issues, or asking for simple advice because they had no one else to turn to – it all showed me how freeing it is to connect with strangers beyond typical niceties. We all need to make more effort to connect, and I hope to continue to bring that sentiment to my real life, beyond the screen.
At times, it could be overwhelming. Campus tragedies resulted in hundreds of messages daily, and the Radio Rebel-esque lifestyle proved to not be as simple when people relied on communication with me in their darkest moments. Or, during times of political unrest, desperately trying to protect my identity as the silly persona resulted in real-world danger from conservative public figures and organizations.
I felt pressure, knowing that any quick story post meant all one thousand of my neighbors would see it and potentially misinterpret me. It was intimidating, realizing that making a fun account on social media had gotten so out of hand so quickly. Was it worth it? Uh… I guess we’ll see when this issue is printed!
Ultimately, I got the degree I came for and I had a great time doing it, regardless of the bumps along the way. The anonymity provided a balance which allowed me to step in when I had the urge, and step down when I had the need. Having the opportunity to come and go meant I was able to be available in times where I felt it was most important. Supporting the SLU community has meant everything to me. The interactions I had with so many sweet, genuine people, as well as the firm roots I’ve planted in my community from this account definitely made the tough times worth it. I feel more connected to St. Louis, especially Queer St. Louis, than I have in my entire life because of the opportunities this persona has given me to connect with local businesses and organizations.
Am I the same person I was when I started this account at 18 years old? No. But Becky taught me a lot about what it means to be a person, which is ironic considering she is… a Billiken.
Thank you to those of you I have had the honor to meet. I am so grateful and cannot wait to learn my next lesson.