Big Sis Briefing: What's in a Name?

I've been thinking about titles lately and specifically, what makes you worthy of one.

When do you become an author? A podcaster? A speaker? A media founder?

In law, the answer is straightforward. You study, you qualify, you get admitted. There's paperwork, a ceremony and a clear before and after. But in creative work, there's no governing body. No official moment when someone stamps your forehead and declares, "Congratulations, you're an author now."

In 2020, I bought a microphone. I interviewed a friend, uploaded the file, and suddenly had a podcast. The audio was rough. The writing inconsistent. The listens barely reached a few hundred. But I'd done it. I could do it again. Not long after that moment, I realised I didn't need anyone's permission to call myself a podcaster.

Over time, the title settled in. It stopped feeling like a costume and started feeling like my name tag. I added it to LinkedIn. I had the body of work to prove it.

That's the nature of claiming new titles though, they feel awkward until you've lived in them long enough to make them yours.

But there's also a tension here worth examining.

We hold ourselves back, waiting for external validation like the degree, the endorsement, the nod from someone we deem legitimate. Meanwhile, others overclaim freely. The word "con" comes from "confidence man" or someone who uses boldness to manufacture false authority (gosh have I met my fair share in the tech bro world).

Confidence cuts both ways. Stepping into your title is so powerful, but substance must follow. The proof lives in the work, not the label.

Still, we overcorrect. Especially women. We fear being called presumptuous, arrogant, delusional, too big for her boots. So we shrink. We wait for someone else to confirm what we've already earned.

Prestige is storytelling. Authority is storytelling. We've simply agreed, as a collective, that certain voices sound more official than others.

What excites me the most, and opens up a new world of opportunity, is that the rules that created that social agreement are completely breaking down.

You don't need a publishing house to be published. You don't need a media company to make media. You can build your own infrastructure and still be taken seriously, perhaps even more so by the actual audience.

So yes, I might even start calling myself a media mogul. Tongue in cheek, certainly. But also as a reminder that no one else gets to define what counts as "media" anymore. What is a “mogul” anyway?

If you're doing the work, you get to claim the name.

I believe that clarity beats permission. Say it out loud and then live up to it.

Mel

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Action

Think about the title you've been avoiding (leader, senior, expert, thought leader, speaker) the one you secretly wish someone else would give you.

Write it down. Say it out loud. Then start using it. No one's coming to crown you, babe. You've already earned it.

Author's note:
Written from a Brisbane coffee shop, thinking about how one cheap microphone in 2020 changed everything. Titles only feel real once you start saying them out loud.