Whose Story Is It, Anyway? Why Letting Others Define You Limits What Comes Next

Have you ever had someone write or say something negative about you that just stuck like glue? No matter how ridiculous it was at the time (and still is), does it still echo in your head years — maybe even decades — later? Two Hulu documentaries, almost two generations apart, illustrate that phenomenon, but they showcase two remarkably different responses:

1. Brats (Hulu, 2024) – Actor‑turned‑director Andrew McCarthy’s reckoning with the 1985 New York Magazine article that slapped “Brat Pack” on a group of talented, young actors and — by their own admission — froze many of their creative options, including opportunities to continue to collaborate.

2. Call Her Alex (Hulu, 2025) – Enter Alex Cooper: creator, host, and executive producer of Call Her Daddy. While critics tried to pigeonhole her as “just another raunchy podcaster,” she leaned into the label and inked a nine‑figure deal, launched a media studio, and green‑lit her own documentary. Where the "Brat Pack" attempted to dodge -- unsuccessfully --  the “Brat” label, Cooper grabbed the mic, framed her struggles as fuel, and let the audience watch her evolve in real time.

Clearly, times have changed, and the number of platforms where we can shape and tell our story has exploded. But there is one key branding lesson we can draw from both examples that is as true today as it was back in 1985. Let’s unpack why.

When One Headline Becomes a Career Stop‑Sign

Back in 1985, an outsider’s description became gospel overnight. Andrew McCarthy, Emilio Estevez, Demi Moore, Rob Lowe, Ally Sheedy, and several other young actors woke up branded the “Brat Pack.” Casting directors read lightweight. Studios feared audiences would tire of the clique. Even the actors themselves started tip‑toeing around projects that might "feed the narrative."

Psychologists call this narrative foreclosure. It’s the idea that when a powerful external story arrives early, we begin to live as if it were totally true, editing our choices to avoid contradicting it. Translation: we stop exploring before the plot twist has a chance to land.

Four decades later, McCarthy’s documentary shows just how heavy that label felt. Some actors distanced themselves from each other. Estevez walked away from a dream collaboration. Lowe still admits the tag stung for years. They didn’t just lose roles; they lost agency. If you are like me and a member of Gen X, you’ll love not just the lesson, but the nostalgia generated in this documentary. 

A Couple of Generations Later, a Very Different Playbook

Enter Alex Cooper: creator, host, and executive producer of the wildly successful podcast Call Her Daddy. Cooper’s reaction to criticism was not to avoid it, but to either own it or shift it herself. 

The result? The label became elastic rather than permanent. Instead of shrinking her options, it expanded them — interviews with everyone from therapists to the Vice President, brand extensions, live tours, and a loyal community that expects her to grow.

Why the Gap? Three Leverage Points

1. Speed of Ownership – The "Brat Pack" spent decades reacting to someone else’s script. Cooper published hers before outside voices could harden.

2. Direct‑to‑Audience Channels – In the ’80s, three TV networks and a handful of glossy magazines decided what was "news." Today? Podcasts, Instagram, TikTok, Substack, Linked In, newsletters — the gatekeepers are optional, if not entirely irrelevant.

3. Mindset Toward Labels – Resistance vs. Reframing. Most importantly, one group treated the label as an anchor; the other treated it as raw material for growth.

Spotting Narrative Foreclosure in Our Lives

You don’t have to be famous to fall into this trap. Maybe a college advisor once said, “You’re not a numbers person,” and you’ve avoided P&L responsibility ever since. Or a former boss labeled you "too nice to lead," and you’ve been under‑playing authority despite mounting evidence to the contrary.

Narrative foreclosure is sneaky because it sounds like common sense: "Oh, I’m just the creative one," or "I’m not the tech person." Left unchecked, that story calcifies, and opportunities might glide right past us.

Five Ways to Keep the Pen

If this resonates, here are five great ways to own your narrative: 

1. Fill in the Box Yourself: Write down the first three words you think colleagues would use to describe you. Circle anything that feels unchosen or limiting.

2. Source or Self? Ask, Did I choose this label, or did someone else assign it? Ownership starts with that clarity. 

3. Reframe or Release: Reframe if the label carries equity you can redirect ("Brat" ➜ "Bold disrupter"). Release if it constricts, and replace it with a values‑based descriptor you control. Think about other words that might best describe you?

4. Contradict the “Narrative”: Take one visible action that contradicts the limiting narrative: volunteer for a budget sprint, guest on a technical podcast, host a workshop, or pitch a cross‑functional project. Behavior is the most persuasive editor.

5. Iterate in Public: Share your evolution. Like Cooper, let the audience witness the rough drafts — progress beats polish in the authenticity game. Unlike the "Brat Pack" you have social media and countless platforms to choose from. 

A Personal Note

Hosting She Said/She Said Podcast for almost eight years, I’ve interviewed hundreds of women (and a few men) about influence, leadership, and reinvention. The through‑line? The most compelling journeys happen when the protagonist rewrites a narrative that once felt fixed.

So here’s my challenge to you this month: audit your storyline, decide what stays, and start drafting the next chapter before someone else mails it in. As the “Brat Pack” learned the hard way — and Alex Cooper has proven in real time — the headline isn’t final until you sign off on it.

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please share in the comments.