Someone Tried To Impersonate Me This Week

It was an im-poster-able (get it??) predicament.

It started with an email. A HARO, to be exact. 

HARO stands for “help a reporter out.” It’s a website that journalists and expert sources use to connect with one another on different subject matters. (If you’re interested in learning more, my friend Stephanie over at Pitch, Please has an awesome explainer. You can check that out here.) As a journalist, I fill out a query with my credentials, a brief summary of the type of expert I’m looking for, if there are any questions I need to be answered for a story, etc. 

It’s an excellent resource, and one I utilize often. Just not in this particular instance.

I received an email from one of my contacts Monday morning. They were responding to a HARO query I’d (supposedly) sent out. Only, I hadn’t. Whoever submitted the query used my first and last name. They cited one of the publications I write for as their credentials and asked for brands to send them product samples of clothing, accessories, shoes, etc. They used my name and job title so they could dupe my contacts, my colleagues, the people who know and trust me, into sending them free stuff. 

I contacted HARO and flagged the query as fraudulent. I responded to every email I received in response to the query and explained the same. All things considered, I handled the situation pretty calmly.

After all, this wasn’t the first time someone pretended to be me. 

 

In 2017, I was notified that someone on LinkedIn was using my picture; a selfie I’d taken in my and Mark’s first apartment. I reported it and the platform deleted the profile. Fast forward to October 2021, and I was contacted by a man who managed a Facebook group for current and former airline employees. A person in his group had swiped not only one of my author photos, but also my author bio, and used them to create a fake profile to spread misinformation about Southwest Airlines’ vaccination mandate. Whoever this person was, they caused quite a bit of chaos. Luckily, this man and an administrator of the group confronted them, and the profile was taken down. 

These are wild stories and I consider myself very lucky to have had good, honest people make a point to not only contact me but also report these profiles. And while I know I’m not the only one who has experienced this (Catfish was one of my favorite shows, after all), and that my photos and name were likely chosen at random, I find the entire ordeal (all three of them, really) kind of… ironic.

Because there was a time when I wanted to be someone else, too. 

There was a time when my catchphrase was “I wish I was/I want to be like/why can’t I look like [enter celebrity or influencer name here].” And growing up, I didn’t just wish for it; I actively tried to be something, anything, that I wasn’t. 

For example, when the second Sandlot came out, I asked my dad to teach me how to pitch a softball. I practiced all summer but never made it to try-outs. When the movie Double Teamed aired on the Disney channel, I tried out for my church’s basketball team. (I made it, hated it, and quit within a month). When the movie All You’ve Got with Adrienne Bailon and Ciara aired on MTV, I tried out for volleyball. (I love-hated it).

I watched My Girl and wanted to wear a mood ring because Vada wore a mood ring. The girls in Now and Then wore stretch headbands as scrunchies, so I asked my mom to buy me a pack so I could do the same. In 13 Going On 30, Jenna Rink loved Razzles, so I did, too. 

Given my history, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that when I grew up, I was highly susceptible to the comparison trap of social media. I started using protein powders (that I could not stomach) and snacking on Quest bars (which are disgusting) so I could be and look like the fitness girls on Instagram. I started doing my eyeliner like Chrissy Costanza (still an awesome aesthetic, but not a look that works for my eye shape) and only following the workout programs advertised by my favorite Youtubers.

But in the last few years, enough was enough. And in the past few months, I’ve really come into my own. I’m not completely free of the comparison trap. Sometimes I find myself wanting things I don’t have. But I don’t wish I was someone else. 

 

One of my closest girlfriends told me she feels like I’ve really been finding my center lately, and I completely agree. I know age is just a number, and that it has become something of a cliche to say that with your 30s comes a massive wave of self-confidence. But almost eight months into my 30th year around the sun, I can honestly say that, in my experience, it’s ringing true. I like who I am, and I love what I have. And what I have is a whole lot of blessings, among them my health, my wonderful husband, a gorgeous tabby cat who loves me, and a close, supportive family. I have the very best girlfriends and an exciting job, and I have a gift and passion for storytelling (thanks in large part to my overactive imagination).

So while I’d obviously prefer it if people would stop stealing my photos and attempting to use my name and job title to get free stuff, there’s a part of me (it’s a small part — a fraction, really — but it’s there) that feels compassion for them. Regardless of whether or not they specifically singled me out, or if I was a random face that popped up in their Google search, the people who pretend to be someone else aren’t comfortable enough to be who they are. And that’s kind of sad when you think about it, no?

——

No links this week (it’s been a crazy one for so many of us). However, I will use this space as a friendly PSA to all my PR friends: Even though the user was banned from the site, if you catch a HARO from me (because I will continue using the site when necessary), it might be a good idea to reach out to me directly (assuming if you’re reading this, you probably have my email address). That way, I can confirm (or deny) its authenticity.