Personal branding is basically a religion now. If you want to be heard online, the dogma says you need a “consistent, integrated, measurable” identity. All accounts must be linked, all posts must funnel into one neat little persona, every trace of your digital life must be polished, because your “name” is the only passport to attention. The logic is drilled into us: no brand, no recognition. No recognition, no voice.

But here’s the problem: branding is really just a monopoly on narrative. The moment your name gets stamped onto an idea, that idea stops belonging to itself. It becomes the property of the name. And if the brand collapses, the message gets buried right alongside it. Look around: one public figure gets caught in a scandal, and suddenly all their ideas are branded trash. The story is locked to the person, not to the life of the idea itself.

Social media cranked this logic up to maximum cruelty. The algorithms reward integration, whispering that the stronger your “cohesive brand,” the safer you are. One name, one story, one market. Without noticing, we started to equate existence with follower count, and message with engagement.

So I’m trying the antithesis. Not fighting branding with some alternative branding, but experimenting with anti-branding. No integration, no carefully managed cross-links, no single unified identity steering the ship. I publish across multiple channels, through different accounts, sometimes with a similar voice, but without any obvious bridges connecting them.

The goal is simple: I’m not selling a name. I want the message to stand on its own, without a passport, without needing to be rescued by a fanbase. Let the reader stumble onto it without caring whether it came from Account A, B, or C. Let the idea be judged as an idea, not as the property of whoever typed it.

The risks are obvious. Without a brand, there’s no shield. If one account gets banned, the message dies with it. Without identity, there’s no loyal crowd ready to jump in defense. The words can sink, be ignored, get forgotten.

But that’s the bet: maybe a message can live freer when it’s cut loose from a name. Maybe an idea can travel further when it’s not chained to a figure.

I’m not disgusted by popularity. I just want to carve out an alternative lane, a small path running parallel to the mainstream. An experiment: to let the message walk without a passport, without a brand, without a single narrative.

In an era where names are treated like currency, I choose not to save mine. Let the words live without a passport. Let them spread without a face.

I’m not someone, but I’m everywhere.

Personal branding is basically a religion now. If you want to be heard online, the dogma says you need a “consistent, integrated, measurable” identity. All accounts must be linked, all posts must funnel into one neat little persona, every trace of your digital life must be polished, because your “name” is the only passport to attention. The logic is drilled into us: no brand, no recognition. No recognition, no voice.

But here’s the problem: branding is really just a monopoly on narrative. The moment your name gets stamped onto an idea, that idea stops belonging to itself. It becomes the property of the name. And if the brand collapses, the message gets buried right alongside it. Look around: one public figure gets caught in a scandal, and suddenly all their ideas are branded trash. The story is locked to the person, not to the life of the idea itself.

Social media cranked this logic up to maximum cruelty. The algorithms reward integration, whispering that the stronger your “cohesive brand,” the safer you are. One name, one story, one market. Without noticing, we started to equate existence with follower count, and message with engagement.

So I’m trying the antithesis. Not fighting branding with some alternative branding, but experimenting with anti-branding. No integration, no carefully managed cross-links, no single unified identity steering the ship. I publish across multiple channels, through different accounts, sometimes with a similar voice, but without any obvious bridges connecting them.

The goal is simple: I’m not selling a name. I want the message to stand on its own, without a passport, without needing to be rescued by a fanbase. Let the reader stumble onto it without caring whether it came from Account A, B, or C. Let the idea be judged as an idea, not as the property of whoever typed it.

The risks are obvious. Without a brand, there’s no shield. If one account gets banned, the message dies with it. Without identity, there’s no loyal crowd ready to jump in defense. The words can sink, be ignored, get forgotten.

But that’s the bet: maybe a message can live freer when it’s cut loose from a name. Maybe an idea can travel further when it’s not chained to a figure.

I’m not disgusted by popularity. I just want to carve out an alternative lane, a small path running parallel to the mainstream. An experiment: to let the message walk without a passport, without a brand, without a single narrative.

In an era where names are treated like currency, I choose not to save mine. Let the words live without a passport. Let them spread without a face.

I’m not someone, but I’m everywhere.