What if the secret to authentic self-expression is hidden in professional wrestling?

I know, sounds ridiculous, right? But stay with me.

In wrestling, there are two main character types:

• The babyface: The hero who plays to the crowd.
• The heel: The villain who doesn't care what anyone thinks.

I've joked before: If I were a pro wrestler, I'd want to play the heel.

I even said in my last piece how I admire, "The boldness it takes to play the heel and have the crowd against you. I wish I had the confidence."

Then I had an epiphany.

The desire to play the heel… is a desire to fearlessly express myself.

Even if it means standing alone. Even if it means making others uncomfortable.

Playing a heel. Taking heat from the audience. Having them boo you. That takes courage.

It's a willingness to be misunderstood, judged, and/or rejected.

The heels always seem to have unshakable confidence in themselves. They say what they mean, no matter how it lands. They don't flinch. They don't edit themselves to stay safe.

This is what I truly desire.

Not to be intentionally antagonizing, offensive, or an a$$hole for the sake of being an a$$hole.

Nah.

What I truly desire is the courage to be disliked.

That was the epiphany.

Cuz here's the honest truth.

For most of my life, I played the babyface.

Not in the ring, in real life.

I was agreeable but never authentic.

The easy-going person who could get along with anybody. And I mean almost anybody, no matter how big of a shithead they were. Looking back, it's crazy to see the kind of toxic behaviors I would put up with. All at the expense of "keeping the peace."

I was a chameleon, shape-shifting to fit the room.

I was the "nice one" who was secretly resentful.

"I'm fine with whatever."

"We can do whatever YOU want."

These were my catchphrases.

I said yes when I wanted to say no.

I'd say yes to covering shifts on my days off, not because I wanted to, but because I was afraid of saying no. I was afraid of being disliked. I feared any kind of tension or friction, so I swallowed my truth.

Gulp.

I would go out with my co-workers. I'd say yes to another drink, another shot. Not because I really wanted one, but because I was so desperate to fit in. To make friends. To feel connected.

Does this sound like a free person to you?

Eventually, these fears followed me online.

I was scared to express what I really thought.

Scared to post the stuff I was actually into.

I always felt like I was being "too much" and needed to tone myself down.

Isn't it funny how we all admire the people who stand out from the crowd, but we are all deathly afraid to be them?

Let me just trim my edges so nobody gets poked.

Wrestling Archetypes as Psychological Metaphors

This whole wrestling thing isn't about wrestling at all.

The babyface and the heel are psychological metaphors.

They're two sides of how we show up in the world.

And I've been living as one, while secretly longing to become the other.

🕊️ The Babyface = The People-Pleaser

The babyface is your survival self.

The mask you wear to stay safe.

In wrestling, the babyface panders to the crowd. They say all the "right" things. They get the applause. They become addicted to it and forget who they are without it.

It’s no different online.

The babyface creator shows up in two different ways:

• The Sellout Babyface: Performs for the algorithm. They leave comments and post daily, not to genuinely connect or express truth, but to manufacture growth. They grow an audience… but lose themselves.
• The Invisible Babyface (me): Too scared to even step into the arena. Stays hidden, paralyzed by the fear of visibility. They want to build something meaningful but freeze up at the thought of being judged, disliked, or rejected.

Different tactics. Same energy: Letting the crowd control you.

One performs for the applause. The other hides from potential boos.

😈 The Heel = The Aligned Creator

The heel is your liberated self.

They're not afraid of getting booed. They speak their truth—even if it makes people uncomfortable. They don't water themselves down to be liked. They don't play to the crowd.

That's the energy I'm learning to embody.

For me, that looks like:

• Choosing when to speak up instead of nodding along just to keep the peace.
• Creating from presence—not from strategy.
• Being willing to be misunderstood if it means being real.

Heel energy isn’t about being a contrarian for the sake of it. It’s about not shrinking.

And yeah… sometimes that makes you polarizing.

Because when you stop contorting yourself to be liked by everyone, some people will fall off.

They were comfortable with the agreeable version of you.

The real you might challenge them. Trigger them. Or they might not resonate anymore.

That’s actually okay.

The heel knows something the babyface forgets:

Losing followers isn’t a loss. It’s alignment.

When you speak your truth, you’re calling in the ones who resonate with the real you.

And that’s what I mean. At its core, my desire to play the heel is a desire to be liberated. A desire for genuine connections.

The Heel Turn Begins

The truth is, my heel turn has been happening slowly for years now:

• Asserting myself and telling my manager which station I actually want to work, instead of shrugging it off and saying, "I'm fine with whatever."
• Saying no to covering shifts on my days off.
• Being intentional about who I share my energy with. Not wasting nights out with people who drain me, just to feel accepted.
• Sharing the weird, niche stuff I’m actually into—ahem, like wrestling—without apologizing for it.

Tiny acts of rebellion against the survival-based programming.

But I’m not all the way there yet. Especially online.

I still catch myself overthinking posts, second-guessing what I want to say. The invisible babyface is still calling some of the shots.

But I’m working on it.

The heel isn’t the villain. They’re just done pretending.

Done nodding along just to keep the peace. Done twisting themselves up just to be liked.

They don’t care about being cheered anymore. They care about being real.

You’re not here to win the crowd. You’re here to stop performing and start expressing.

So yeah… I want to play the heel. Not because I want to be hated.

But because I’m finally willing to be disliked.

Until next time my friend,

—Priscilla [Player 2]