Ignore the haters, follow your passion

No country seems to revel in building someone up only to tear them down quite like Great Britain. Australia and New Zealand share a similar tendency, coining the term "Tall Poppy Syndrome" in the 1980s to acknowledge their cultural habit of resenting those who achieve notable success. In Britain, this phenomenon is more whispered about than openly acknowledged. Unfortunately, this culture can become especially prevalent in scenarios where individuals are attempting something outside the ordinary norms. 

From a young age, I’ve loved creating video projects—whether it was lip-syncing to Green Day’s Boulevard of Broken Dreams while walking down a country road or filming a TV screen while playing video games. Like many boys my age, I was captivated by YouTuber KSIOlajideBT, whose hilarious and controversial FIFA videos combined sharp editing with outrageous comedic ideas. I was inspired and eager to emulate his creativity.

As I mentioned earlier, cynicism runs deep in the British psyche. Any attempt to step outside the norm often invites grumbles, criticism, or outright reputation-smearing. I knew that starting a YouTube channel might provoke reactions ranging from hostility to confusion, especially with it being gaming focused. Questions like, “Why are you wasting your time?” or “Aren’t you worried it’ll seem nerdy?” loomed over the idea. But it was my passion at the time, so in Year 9, I took the leap and created my channel, MarZy Pan.

I initially attempted to hide the project. Primarily through fear of having classmates or friends playing my high-pitched voice out loud for all to hear. Yet I eventually succumbed to my intense passion and pride for the YouTube channel, electing to inform some close contacts of my new endeavour.

However, within a few days, it felt as though everyone in my entire school year were highly attuned to every aspect of my videos. The reaction was mixed- some admired the whopping 150-subscriber count and the innovation shown, but the vast majority struggled to grasp my motivations for doing it.

13-year-old boys aren’t known for their restraint, and the torrent of criticism was certainly harsh at times. The jibes of it being ‘incredibly weird’, ‘pathetic’, and ‘a complete waste of time’ seem trivial upon later reflection. But as a lanky, spotty, pre-pubescent child, my self-esteem was already low, and I simply didn’t have tough enough skin to take the criticism. It’s sad to admit, but the channel almost became a main avenue of insecurity for me and I developed a level of anxiety. Especially relating to whether my school peers would bring the topic up in front of girls or even teachers. At the time, I felt they’d be the harshest and most judgmental critics.

Additionally, I developed a chronic fear of my videos being played before a group of people. Sadly, this dread would become reality one afternoon in a mundane English class.

With the term winding down, the teacher, indifferent to the chaos of a classroom losing interest in lessons, casually announced we could watch whatever we wanted on the electronic whiteboard. The moment those words left her mouth, I knew I was potentially in big trouble.

A murmur in the corner quickly turned into an excited commotion. My name. My channel. My videos. One of my classmates made a beeline towards the laptop connected to the whiteboard, before swiftly opening YouTube. My heart sank and I immediately pleaded with him to stop from across the room, while the perplexed teacher looked on.

I felt my face flush red, and then a sudden wave of anger took hold. The classmate clicked on one of my posts and within seconds my voice was blaring through the loudspeakers. I remember, it was a FIFA Ultimate team video (if you know, you know). The next few seconds were hazy. I suddenly found myself before my tormentor at the front of the class. Of course, he had done nothing wrong. But in my mind, he had committed a cardinal sin, ignored my pleadings, and sought to embarrass me extensively.

In what can only be described as a fit of rage, I shoved my classmate into the whiteboard with full force. A silence descended over the room, with the teacher standing there like a statue, mouth agape, buffering like the YouTube video plastered on the screen.

I was never reprimanded or punished for this blatant assault on a fellow peer. I think both the class and teacher believed I was either insane or going through a traumatic episode best left unaddressed. But the outburst had made it abundantly clear that I was extremely insecure and needed to find a solution. The next day, I decided to delete all my videos and abandon the endeavour entirely. Although it felt as though a weight had been lifted, a project I had spent countless hours on had ultimately been extinguished, all because of insecurities that loomed too large to ignore.

I often look back and wish I had been able to withstand the teasing and insults. At the time, however, an all-boy school environment in conjunction with deep insecurities wasn’t conducive. Initially after the channel’s termination, I felt extremely demotivated and deflated, deeming the entire scenario as a pointless failed venture. I had abandoned my dream of creating and running a successful YouTube channel, and no longer had an initiative to focus upon in my free time. It was crushing in part. But looking back, the experience was extremely useful in fuelling me to have another go years later.

Almost exactly 10 years later, I decided to have another go. Yet this time, it would be different. Armed with far more experience, stronger self-assurance, and an iron resolve to finish what I once started. Having concluded a year of law school, I had become tired with the tedium of completing job applications. I craved a creative outlet of sorts, considering options spanning from paint-by-numbers to woodworking. But none of them satisfied the desire. So, I turned back to YouTube…

I’d be lying if I said there were no nagging doubts before creating the Alex Marsland channel. I did occasionally question myself; ‘Alex, you’re 23 years old, why bother with this seemingly childish activity? Get a real job.’ I also wondered what my friends and family would think. If the project failed, would I again be plunged into a demotivated slump like the one I suffered a decade prior. However, the recriminations and regret from halting my Marzy Pan endeavour truly came to the surface, and I felt I owed it to myself to at least try. So, I took the leap and began making content again.

I didn’t tell a soul about the channel for perhaps the first seven months. Then, aside from blabbing to my girlfriend, I kept it to myself for the next year or so. I don’t believe this was out of insecurity or nerves, I simply didn’t think it warranted a mention. People in their early twenties are often incredibly busy and preoccupied with the stress and worry of everyday life, so my mini passion project seemed far from noteworthy. Instead, it ended up being a video I made analysing Conor McGregor’s fraudulent McGregor Forever which exposed my enterprise. Once it went viral, I thought someone might make the connection. Within a few weeks, it felt as though everyone I knew was aware. The reaction was overwhelmingly positive, with friends showing both support and interest.

The fact I was making money from ad revenue made it a worthwhile hobby in the eyes of many I feel, and this does seem to be the determining factor in people viewing an undertaking to be fruitful or pointless. For most, whether or not it made me happy didn’t seem to be relevant, which is a poignant reminder of the apathetic culture synonymous with Britain that I mentioned earlier.

Now, after two and a half years of making videos and 25,000 subscribers later, I’m certainly proud of my current achievements. But I’m eager to learn and grow even further in 2025. YouTube will always be special to me. Not only because it presents an excellent opportunity to be both creative and analytical but, in a strange way, it has somewhat shaped who I am today. I have far tougher skin, take on board criticism in a more constructive manner, and I’m quick to offer support and help to any person who looks to explore new avenues or opportunities.

The comments of Tom Blomfield, the founder of Monzo, particularly resonated with me in this regard. He said, “The idea that anyone can create anything if they try hard enough is so deeply American, and it’s so antithetical to the British culture’. When he was seeking assistance for his Monzo idea, many in Britain scoffed at it, deeming it a futile venture which was destined to fail. In America, he received encouragement and backing, with many actively seeking to put him in contact with useful connections. I genuinely believe that in the UK we must adopt a more optimistic, innovative outlook to build up-and-coming ventures and products. Having witnessed the adverse reaction to new creativities in the UK first-hand, I will always do my best to help anyone who dares to try something new.

On that note, I want to firstly thank Myan for the opportunity to contribute to this great, worthwhile project. Mental health is still a highly omitted topic amongst young people, young men especially, and it’s brilliant that he is trying to make an active difference in the space to improve awareness, spark conversations and get people our age talking.

I hope this blog didn’t seem like too much of a sob-story. I’ve been extremely lucky in my life, and having people criticise your YouTube channel is hardly traumatic. But I hope sharing this experience can at least underline the importance of never giving up on something that you are truly passionate about.