The face of humanity at scale

I want to see the many different sides of life.

And this week delivered a new perspective: I learned what it meant to go "viral."

I wrote a story about the first date I had with my now husband. As of this morning, the story has 4.1 million views.

Leslie Sam Kim @lesliesamkim

Marrying a stutterer changed my life. Our first date was difficult. I'd forgotten he'd written the word "stutterer" somewhere in his Bumble profile. We met at the base of a local hike — just as storm clouds were rolling in. It took at least a minute for him to say "Hello."

I don't get social media notifications, so I wasn't aware that my story had caught on like wildfire. A text from a friend is what let me know. When I logged on to Twitter, the notifications popped up so fast that I didn't have time to read one before the next one took its place.

I've never written about my relationship with my husband before.

We had a courthouse wedding last year without any guests. A few months later, we moved out of the city and the process was so overwhelming we didn't get a chance to celebrate with friends.

Our life together is comfortably stable, and like most other couples, we engage in arguments and apologies, can't decide what to watch on tv, and have our own personal rhythms and routines. But our relationship is rich and complex, and being together has taught both of us many things.

For years, I've wondered if there was a genuine way I could share more about the significance of our being together.

And this particular Monday seemed like an appropriate time to grapple with the task. 

The story I've been carrying for years finally formed itself into words, and unlike many other times in my life, I felt comfortable sharing it. I posted my story on Twitter to my then audience of 230. Those 230 people shared it with their audiences, who shared it with theirs until it reached over five thousand shares.

I received an incredible volume of responses.

Within the dizzying hurricane of comments, likes, and retweets, I learned something about the vastness of our world.

Prior to this day, I had never really contemplated what presenting a slice of my soul to four million people could possibly look like.

I learned that the number of people on this earth is far beyond our imagination. And although we come from different backgrounds and live in different places, so many of us are on the same journeys.

My story received comments from readers of many different cultures and religions. I gained followers from parts of the world I know very little about. As I looked into their profiles, I saw glimpses of their lives and wanted to see what their parts of the world look like. I'm inspired to visit some of these places one day.

However, I knew from my past experiences that not all feedback from a massive audience could possibly be positive.

This story proved to be no anomaly.

There were some who found it offensive, written in a style they didn't like, or the details of what it's like to live with a disability too shameful to bear. Though the insults were few in comparison to the positive reactions, each one finds a way to sting your heart, no matter how misinterpreted or senseless they may be. I learned that going viral is unsustainable for the soul and welcomed the end of it.

Ultimately, I was beyond honored to have seen the world from a new perspective — from a singular point at the tip of an audience of four million.

From that vantage point, I could clearly see the incredible capacity for love and understanding that exists in every human being's heart. I saw that nearly every person wants nothing more than to be seen for who they are — no more, no less. I saw the hope and longing in those who were searching for their people. I saw the bravery of those who struggle.

Human nature showed its face at scale. And it was chaotic and terrible and beautiful all at once.

I have only recently been publishing my stories and my perspectives. In my closets are decades worth of journals and notebooks that I've hidden away. My younger self was much too fearful to pay the high cost of honesty.

It's only after decades of avoiding my own truths have I learned that the cost of silence is much greater. Subjecting the most vulnerable parts of myself to the impulses and opinions of others is a price I am now willing to pay.

For me, remaining silent and letting every word fester is simply no longer an option.

The only gift we imperfect humans can truly give to each other is our honesty — no matter how strange, ugly, bitter, or brilliant.

To friends old and new, thank you for being here.

—Leslie

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“In a room where

people unanimously maintain

a conspiracy of silence,

one word of truth

sounds like a pistol shot.”

― Czesław Miłosz