Page 3 of Mutual Discord

I felt a strange mixture of elated and exhausted all at once. “Thanks to you,” I replied, with forced lightness.

Denise took a bite of palmera, catching the flaky crumbs on her plate. “Greasy food and plenty of fluids have never let me down.”

“They didn’t let me down, either. Thanks, D.” I nibbled on my lip, debating whether I should tell my friend about my viral TikTok and the side quest I was considering taking. But before I could say anything, Denise spoke.

“So what are you going to do today? Especially now that you don’t have to go into the office?”

Research. I needed to do research to see which women inventors or entrepreneurs I could spotlight next. If I was going to try my hand at social media content, I needed to formulate a plan. I snuck a quick glance at Denise, finding my friend licking sugar off her fingers. Maybe it would be better to wait before telling anyone about my new venture. It could be a big flop, and why draw attention to it until I had some wins under my belt? Very few people I knew in real life were active on social media, and none on TikTok…well, except for my best friend, Caitlin. She had a huge account, especially in fashion circles, but it felt unlikely that she would ever come across one of my videos. The chances of my secret account being discovered were small.

With that decision made, I lifted a shoulder. “I have a checklist in my mind of all the stuff I have to take care of.” I clenched my eyes closed. “I really hate that I’m in this position.”

“I hate it for you.” Denise studied me and then picked up her empanada. “I’m choosing to believe that leaving Desert Media 360 will be the best thing to ever happen to you, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“It’s not like you to be so optimistic”—I snorted—“and this early in the morning, too.”

Denise faked a shudder. “Very out of character for me.” She took a bite of empanada, swallowed, and then grinned. “I’m blaming the sugar. It’s made me all cheery and shit.”

I held up my hands. “Hey, I’m not complaining. I could use all the cheery shit I can get.”

And thinking of my TikTok video, I figured a helping of simmering rage wouldn’t be misplaced, either.

Chapter Two

Four weeks later

Content creation is…not for the weak of heart.

I sat at the peninsula in my kitchen, a yellow pad of paper in front of me and a pen in hand, which I tapped on the butcher block in a steady rhythm. For the last month, I had managed to create and post a video every day on women scientists, entrepreneurs, innovators, and artists who had experienced some form of theft of their intellectual property or whose accomplishments had not been recognized. My series—dubbed the Matildas, after the Matilda effect, a bias against acknowledging the achievements of women first named by suffragist Matilda Joslyn Gage—had earned me thousands of followers across TikTok and YouTube, where I cross-posted my content. The metrics on both platforms still astonished me. I had worked on enough social media campaigns to know how rare it was to organically go viral not just once, but consistently, yet something about my series had struck a chord with people. Perhaps it was a belated appreciation for these women who had contributed to society in ways the public hadn’t known, or maybe it was because the feeling of being slighted, of having your work downplayed or outright stolen, was painfully relatable. In a world of rapid and rabid internet consumption, and the very real threat of AI distorting the lines of creation, people were drawn to my videos. Whatever the reason, the Matildas had put money in my bank account, which I needed if I didn’t want to tap into my savings.

Not that I hadn’t also applied for jobs. I’d even gone on a few interviews, but none of them had panned out. Oddly enough, I wasn’t sad about it. The hiring managers I met with had been friendly and complimentary of my skills and work history, but none of the positions had felt right. And because my Matildas series was doing well, I didn’t have to settle for an offer simply to keep the lights on—which was important because I hadn’t told my family about losing my job, and I preferred not to. I’d rather tell them about the exciting new position I had taken and focus on moving on from Desert Media 360 with no noticeable scars. But until that perfect job came along, I would focus on the Matildas. It was the most free I had felt since my time as an undergrad.

Even if it was also the most terrifying.

Scrolling through the comments on my most recent video about Bertha Benz, the wife of Carl Benz and the force behind her husband’s automobile company, Mercedes-Benz, I blocked a few accounts for misogynistic comments and then paused, a smile crossing my lips when I spied a new comment from a regular follower. User16892 left a comment on every one of my videos, and often it was something witty or insightful, which I had found surprising considering he had made it clear in several of his remarks that he was a man and the majority of men who commented on my videos were trolls. For Bertha Benz, he wrote: So not only was she the first person to drive a motorized vehicle over a long distance, invented brake lining, and underscored the importance of test drives, she also was credited and praised by her husband for her ingenuity. It’s no wonder the manosphere hates her!

God, wasn’t that the truth. One only had to look at the comments on my video to see how angry some people were by the suggestion that most successful men in history were able to find their success because they had a woman supporting them.

I perused the responses to my new friend, and paused at one in particular: SLikeTheSun should do a live with you! A frown twisted my lips. Do a TikTok LIVE with User16892? I didn’t even know his real name—he didn’t even have an avatar—and people wanted me to chat with him live? Yeah, no. While I appreciated his pointed commentary and the snarky, sometimes brutal responses he left for people who commented rude or vile things on my videos, I wasn’t exactly keen to share the platform I built with anyone, let alone a man. Didn’t that negate the whole idea of the Matildas?

To my frustration, though, several other commenters had piggybacked on this suggestion, and my stomach dropped as I read their posts.

A live would be amazing! Can you imagine how much chemistry they’d have with each other?

@User16892 could have two heads and I would still think he’s hot just from his takedowns.

But why does @SLikeTheSun have to do a live with anyone, especially a man?

Yeah, I thought, nodding my head. I was tempted to like the comment but thought better of it. I’d learned quickly that people online read intent into every innocuous thing I did, so I was picky about what I liked and didn’t. Existing online without people making assumptions about who I was and what I believed was hard enough, and I didn’t need to give them ammunition.

Still, I liked User16892’s comment and closed the app. I had research to do and a script to write. Slipping my phone and laptop inside a bag, I grabbed my water bottle and car keys. I’d decided to spend the morning at the library.

Ten minutes later, I waved hello to Mindy, the front desk librarian, and padded across the sterile carpet as I headed to my customary table in the northwest corner of the library. Unlike other work areas in the building, this corner featured a lone table tucked under a tall, tinted window that overlooked the redbrick paved courtyard lined with vibrantly hued bougainvillea. It was a lovely view to settle my thoughts whenever I needed a break from my computer screen.

After taking a seat, I arranged my laptop and notepad, ensuring my favorite purple gel pen was close at hand, and took a swig of water. Clicking to open my screen, I stared at the script I had started for a video about Chien-Shiung Wu, the aptly named “First Lady of Physics” who was a vital part of the Manhattan Project…yet the Nobel Prize committee omitted her name from consideration. My gaze reread a series of lines I had written. Wu was nominated for a Nobel Prize twenty—TWENTY—times, and may have been nominated for more, but the records are sealed. She was a celebrated and widely respected physicist who changed the way science understood beta decay, and yet how many of you knew her name?

That was the reminder I needed of why I was doing this. Yes, my videos supported me financially, but amplifying these amazing women was immensely satisfying. Every video was a metaphorical middle finger to the patriarchy, and I had to remember that and not all the other nonsense that came from content creation.

But the irritating suggestions to do a LIVE with User16892 were still on my mind hours later after I returned home. While I sorted and folded laundry, and then vacuumed the living room and mopped the kitchen, I listened to a podcast about the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League, hoping it would distract me from another frustration spiral. Because I didn’t need to feature a man to garner more views or interactions. I plunged the mop forcefully into the bucket, ignoring the water that sloshed over the side. This was my account that I had worked hard to build all by myself.