98% of Personal Branding Experts are Wrong!
Chris Do argues that 98% of personal branding is a lie and that true brand building starts with radical self-discovery, not marketing tactics.
Chris Do
Founder, The Futur™ · October 31, 2024
The Church of Personal Branding Is Selling You a Lie
There is a new church in town, and its pews are filled with entrepreneurs, creators, and professionals praying for relevance. This is the Church of Personal Branding, and it preaches a gospel of funnels, follower counts, and carefully manipulated positioning. Its high priests are the gurus selling courses on how to leverage your story and monetize your personality.
The vast majority of them are praying to a false god.
Chris Do, founder of The Futur, is here to commit blasphemy. “Everything that you were taught about personal branding is wrong and untrue,” he declares. “I am the blasphemer, the one who was excised from the church.”
In an industry obsessed with crafting the perfect persona, Do argues that the entire premise is flawed. The endless stream of content designed as thinly disguised advertisements, the posing next to celebrities for borrowed authority, the carefully curated signals of success, it all misses the point. It’s lipstick on a pig, an old package of marketing tactics relabeled with a trendy term.
“I think they know nothing about personal branding,” Do says, firing his first shot. “How can you go around telling people who you are and you've got a strong personal brand when you don't know who you are?”
This is the central heresy. The gurus are teaching you to build a house with no foundation. They are giving you a script without helping you find your voice. Do believes personal branding is not a strategy to get more clients; it is a process of discovering who you are, healing from trauma, and getting in touch with your authentic self. To pursue it for any other reason is to chase a ghost.
“I think 98% of creators that you see on the internet are all fake,” Do states bluntly. “They're all building a lie. They've lied to themselves, they've lied to you, and you're bought into it.”
The Encounter That Changed Everything
The year was 2014. Do, already an industry veteran with two Emmy awards and a successful agency to his name, was teaching at his alma mater, ArtCenter College of Design. He was a respected professor, his work published internationally. By all external measures, he had made it.
But a casual conversation in an auditorium exposed a gap he didn’t know existed.
A student turned to him, speaking about a designer named Aaron Draplin. When Do admitted he didn’t know the name, the student was aghast. “Come on, stop fronting,” she said. “Everybody knows who Aaron is.”
The student’s indignation was a lightning bolt. It wasn’t just admiration; it was a fierce loyalty, a sense of belonging to a tribe. It was the kind of passionate fandom that Do, for all his awards and accolades, had never inspired. His recognition was for the work, the agency, the results. It was never for him, the person.
That moment triggered a deep curiosity. “It's like a scene from ‘When Harry Met Sally’,” Do recalls. “I'll have what she's having... I want to do what he's doing so that people are talking in the theater saying, ‘You don't know Chris Do? You should be ashamed of yourself.’”
He went home and began to study Aaron Draplin, a designer who had exploded onto the scene, in part due to a popular 2013 TEDxPortland talk. Draplin was a force of nature, a stark contrast to the snobby, proper designers who typically graced industry stages.
He would walk out and declare, “My name is Aaron James Draplin... I'm doing everything I can do to make it in the little leagues of graphic design.” He talked about his Detroit roots, his family’s terry cloth shirts, his “negative vertical leap,” and his love for his chihuahua, Gary. He wore a trucker cap and an unwashed jean jacket to what he called “formal events.”
He proudly stated, “I've never won an award. Look it up. Never tried. No professional accolades. Google that shit. Good luck.”
Draplin integrated his entire being into his work. His folksy, Midwestern, no-BS persona was not a brand he constructed; it was who he was. And the design community loved him for it.
The Draplin-Sagmeister Paradox
To understand the power of Draplin’s approach, Do created a study comparing him with another design titan: Stefan Sagmeister. If Draplin was a folk hero, Sagmeister was design royalty. Both had immensely powerful personal brands, yet they could not be more different.
This became The Draplin-Sagmeister Paradox: two wildly divergent paths to the same outcome of a potent, authentic personal brand.
The contrast is a masterclass in authenticity:
- Origin & Persona: Draplin is the salt-of-the-earth guy from the Midwest. Sagmeister is the sophisticated, worldly Austrian intellectual based in New York.
- Aesthetics: Draplin’s work is rooted in Americana, junking, and bold, clean lines. Sagmeister is a conceptual artist whose work is exhibited in museums and often involves deep philosophical or personal exploration, famously carving typography into his own skin for an AIGA poster.
- Travel: Sagmeister is a citizen of the world. In one of Draplin's presentations, he quipped, “My friends are saving to go to India. It sounds incredible, but I go to Indiana.”
- Attitude Towards Animals: Draplin showed a photo of himself sharing an ice cream cone with his beloved chihuahua, Gary. Sagmeister, after being terrorized by stray dogs while traveling in Asia, created a t-shirt that read, “So many dogs, so few recipes.” Both were funny, but from polar opposite perspectives.
- Relationship with the Industry: Draplin boasted about never winning an award and having only one employee: himself. Sagmeister has won virtually every major design award, written multiple books, and is a sought-after speaker at prestigious global conferences.
Both designers had massive followings. Both were an undeniable force. The lesson was clear: there is no single right way to have a personal brand. The only requirement is that it is an honest reflection of who you are. Draplin's F-bombs and trucker hats were as valid as Sagmeister's philosophical musings and museum exhibitions.
“They had both powerful personal brands,” Do explains. “We knew who they were. We knew what they stood for. We knew what they stood against. And it was very clear to me they're probably not sharing the same fan base, but they're both powerful people.” This realization is a cornerstone of what Do teaches about building an authentic brand over networking.
The Inner Work: Your Brand Is Built in Therapy, Not a Boardroom
The discovery of Draplin and Sagmeister provided the external models, but Do’s philosophy is rooted in something much deeper: his own journey of intense personal development. His definition of personal branding as self-discovery is not a theoretical concept; it's a lived experience.
This work stands on three pillars.
First was his 13-year relationship with business coach Keir McLaren. “I learned a lot about business,” Do admits, “but the things that I usually don't talk about are what he taught me about how to be a man, how to be a father, and how to be a husband and a good boss.”
Second, when struggling with raising his two young boys, he sought help from a family therapist, Joan Lightfoot. His traditional Asian upbringing, where he witnessed corporal punishment in his extended family, had left him with a fear of repeating that cycle. “I was having violent thoughts with my own children,” he confesses. “I didn't like where that was going.”
Those ten sessions with Lightfoot were transformative. He calls it a “masterclass probably worth two years of personal development or maybe a master's degree in psychology.” He not only received tactical advice on parenting but also got to observe a master communicator at work, an experience that informs how he now approaches everything from sales to self-reflection.
The third pillar was a Philosophy 101 class at De Anza College, taken in the semester before he started at ArtCenter. It gave him the tools and language to think critically about the world and his place in it.
These experiences cemented his belief that you cannot build a public persona on an unstable private foundation. The work of branding is the work of healing. It’s confronting the unresolved childhood trauma, the insecurities, and the pain that make you react inauthentically. This inner excavation is a theme Do returns to often, such as in his discussions on overcoming imposter syndrome.
“You see children who are trapped in adult bodies who've never had the kind of emotional healing that they need,” Do observes. “So many people want to crawl out of their skin... they want to peel off that layer of flesh and say, ‘It is so gross, I'm so disgusted by myself.’”
The irony is that the ugliness isn't the problem. The pretense is.
“The part that drives me away is not the ugliness that drives me away, because I think we're all ugly in a way,” he clarifies. “What really kills me is them pretending that no one can see it and trying to fool me.”
Vulnerability Is Not a Gimmick
In many online circles, especially within marketing communities, “vulnerability” has become the latest buzzword. But it’s often wielded as just another tactic, a performative display of struggle designed to elicit sympathy and engagement.
Do is quick to call this out. He references a creator who lamented that showing up vulnerably was “weaponized against her” and didn't move her business forward.
“Wrong. Wrong already,” Do says. The problem was her motivation. “What this person did was show up and present their vulnerability as a means to get more of an audience.”
He calls this “pity porn,” and it’s a dead end. It’s asking your audience, “Poor me, I've struggled so much in my life, don't you feel so bad for me?”
This is not true vulnerability. It is manipulation.
Authentic vulnerability is sharing your story after you’ve done the work. It comes from a place of acceptance and growth, not from a need for validation. It’s about owning every part of your story, the good and the bad, the triumphs and the embarrassments.
Do lives this principle. He talks openly about growing up poor, about battling his own temper, and about his shortcomings as a father and husband. He doesn’t do it for pity. He does it because it’s all part of who he is.
“I've accepted that I have certain shortcomings,” he explains. “I've healed from it, and more importantly, I've grown from it. I've understood why these things that are so ugly that most people don't like have made me who I am.” This approach to honest self-representation is critical for anyone trying to build content people actually react to.
This is the same principle embodied by both Draplin and comedian Hasan Minhaj, who, in his special Homecoming King, wove his brown, immigrant, Muslim-American identity into his comedy, embracing every part of his culture. When you fully lean into your ethnicity, your culture, and your idiosyncratic nature, you become magnetic.
The person who “tried” vulnerability and gave up failed to understand this. Do says, “Vulnerability is not a thing you try. It's either you're vulnerable or you're not.”
The Price of Being Yourself
The inevitable objection arises: “Chris, you can afford to be abrasive and opinionated. You're financially secure. You have the awards. What about the rest of us who are still trying to make it?”
Do dismisses this as a fundamental misunderstanding of cause and effect. He cites the legendary designer Carlos Segura, known for his attitudinal, no-nonsense client contract. When asked about it, Segura’s response was simple: “I am Carlos Segura because of that letter. I didn't write the letter because I'm Carlos Segura.”
Authenticity is the cause, not the effect, of success.
Do recounts a conversation with a dear friend and colleague, Patrida Ranataas. After a fiery exchange on Clubhouse, she gently told him, “Chris, I think people misunderstand you. You can come across as a little abrasive... more people would love you if you just learn to edit that part.”
His response was definitive. “Patrida, they did not misunderstand me. I am abrasive. I am opinionated... I am exactly who I am. They got me just right.”
He rejects the game played in academia and corporate culture, where acceptance is currency. For him, impact matters more than pleasantries. “I want to go for impact, not for feelings.”
To build a real personal brand, you must be willing to alienate people. When you reveal your true self, with all your sharp edges and unpopular opinions, some people will not like it. They will leave. And that is a good thing.
Let them go.
The goal is not to be liked by everyone. The goal is to be loved by the right people for who you truly are. As Do often quotes, echoing Kurt Cobain, “I'd rather be hated for the person I am than to be loved for the person that I'm not.”
Stop Performing and Start Being
We have a finite life. Every day, the clock ticks closer to the end. The most urgent question you can ask yourself is: at what point will you show up as the person you were meant to be?
Psychologist Abraham Maslow placed self-actualization, the realization of one's full potential, at the pinnacle of his hierarchy of needs. Yet most people remain trapped at the bottom, consumed by the need for safety, belonging, and approval.
Stop trying to get more clients with your personal brand. Stop using a Trojan Horse of “value” to hide your sales pitch. Stop chasing the trappings of success, the props and personas, thinking they will fill the bottomless pit of insecurity.
The work is internal. It happens with coaches and therapists. It happens in quiet moments of reflection. It happens when you finally decide to stop hiding from yourself.
The path is not easy. When you begin to show up as your authentic self, the world will judge you. You will face criticism. But you will also find your people, the ones who see you, accept you, and champion you not despite your flaws, but because of them.
“I'm not trying to put myself in a messiah complex,” Do concludes. “I'm just saying I'm the anti-church.”
The choice is yours. You can remain a parishioner in the Church of Personal Branding, dutifully following a doctrine that promises success but delivers only a hollow facade. Or you can become a blasphemer, tear down the false idols, and begin the sacred, difficult work of becoming yourself.
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“I think 98% of creators that you see on the internet are all fake.”
— Chris Do
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