Why I Owe My Sister a Public Apology (And What It Taught Me About Storytelling)
I made fun of my sister — and I got caught. As someone who teaches people how to become better communicators and public speakers, you'd think I would have known better. But sometimes the best lessons come from our own mistakes, and this one hit close to home — literally. Here's what happened, and why I felt compelled to set the record straight.
First Things First: My Sister Is Incredible
Before I get into the story, I need to establish something important. I have an amazing sister. She is one of the most incredible human beings I know. She's funny, smart, and one of the most patient people you'll ever meet. She has always been unconditionally supportive of me and everything I take on. She's the kind of person who shows up — consistently and genuinely.
And yet, the only other time I'd ever mentioned her on my channel, it didn't exactly put her in the best light.
The Story Behind the Story
A few weeks ago, I posted a video about how to take on the humorous role at your local Toastmasters club. To make the lesson more practical, I brought my camera to a meeting and filmed myself performing the role live. I've always believed that personal stories land better than pre-canned jokes when it comes to getting laughs. Someone else's material rarely works as well as a genuine, lived experience told with authenticity.
So I told a funny personal story — one from a family vacation about 20 years ago, when my sister and I were much younger. It was a good story. It got laughs. It served as a solid example of how to handle the humorous role effectively.
But it came at the expense of my sister. And I didn't have her consent to share it publicly.
The Text Message That Said It All
Shortly after the video went live, I received a text message. It contained just one word and an emoji:
"Unsubscribed 😊"
I knew immediately — my sister had seen the video. I suppose part of me had assumed there was no chance my family or friends would come across that particular piece of content. I put out a lot of videos, and the probability of anyone watching all of them seemed low.
I was wrong. My sister — along with my brother-in-law, who is equally wonderful — are genuine supporters of what I do. They always have been. They watch my content regularly, which is actually a testament to how amazing they are. The very fact that she saw the video is proof of how much she cares about supporting my work.
The Apology
So here it is, publicly and on the record:
Shauna, I'm sorry. I should not have put that video out without your consent. It was thoughtless, and you deserve better from me.
Now, for everyone else reading this — please know that the story I told in that video is not a representation of who my sister is. She is one of the most incredible people in the world. And for what it's worth, she's fine with the story. She thought it was funny. She laughed about it. She isn't actually upset.
But that doesn't change the fact that I owed her this. I needed to set the record straight.
The Lesson for Storytellers
There's a broader takeaway here for anyone who uses personal stories in speeches, presentations, or content creation:
- Personal stories are powerful — they connect with audiences in ways that borrowed material simply can't.
- But the people in your stories are real. They have feelings, reputations, and a right to consent before you share their moments with the world.
- If your humor comes at someone else's expense, make sure they're okay with it — ideally before you hit publish, not after you get the "unsubscribed" text.
- When you get it wrong, own it. A genuine public correction matters, especially when the person you've misrepresented has always had your back.
Moving Forward
I owe it to my sister to tell more stories that reflect who she truly is — not just the ones that get easy laughs at her expense. The people who support us most deserve to be celebrated, not turned into punchlines. Shauna, this one's for you. You're an extraordinary person, and I'm lucky to have you in my corner. I'll do better — and I'll see everyone on the next one.