By Tokiso “TKay” Nthebe
It’s fascinating how easily we grow comfortable — whether it’s in the job we once prayed for, the relationship we longed for, or the platform we spent years building.
When I began creating content in Lesotho a few years ago, my goal was simple: I wanted to be seen. In a country where content creation was still emerging, I just wanted to contribute something meaningful.
At that stage, I wasn’t thinking about monetisation or brand deals. What mattered most was producing work that resonated.
As the years went by and opportunities began to open up — collaborations, recognition, and a growing audience — something unexpected happened. My expectations rose, and so did my entitlement.
I started to question why I wasn’t invited to certain events or chosen for certain campaigns. I became frustrated when things didn’t go my way. I told myself I had “earned” the right to be included.
But two recent experiences humbled me. When a few brands chose not to renew our projects, I was shocked. I felt overlooked and disappointed. During a conversation with friends, one of them asked a simple but piercing question:
“When did you become so entitled?”
That question forced me to pause. I realised how much my identity had become tied to external validation — likes, attention, recognition.
When you build something from scratch, especially in a small market, it’s easy to get swept up by the recognition that follows. You start believing your own hype. You forget that being seen isn’t the point — creating with purpose is.
That moment became a reset. It reminded me of Simon Sinek’s famous question: What is your why?
Why did I start creating?
What energises me about storytelling?
When did I trade joy for attention?
The truth is, I allowed the applause to distract me from the craft. I started chasing results instead of focusing on purpose.
But growth often comes through discomfort. Being humbled reminded me that what I do is a privilege, not a right. That relevance is temporary, but integrity lasts.
So, I’m returning to my roots — creating because it fills me, not because it validates me. To contribute, not to compete.
Because at the heart of it all, I’m still that person who simply wanted to share stories that matter.
Takeaway:
Entitlement grows quietly when validation replaces purpose. True creativity is sustained not by applause, but by authenticity and consistent reflection.
