We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Michael O’Brien a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Michael, thanks for joining us today. Can you open up about a risk you’ve taken – what it was like taking that risk, why you took the risk and how it turned out?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve carried this dream in my heart—to become a model. Not just for the glamour, but for the feeling of being seen, accepted, celebrated for who I am. As a kid, I’d retreat into my bedroom, close the door, and get lost in America’s Next Top Model. It wasn’t just a show to me—it was a fantasy, a window into a world I longed to be part of. I’d watch those photo shoots and runway challenges and quietly hope that one day, it could be me up there. But when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see anyone who fit that mold.
I was a bigger guy, a redhead, and gay. And growing up, I didn’t see anyone like that on magazine covers or fashion campaigns. Certainly not on mainstream TV. That lack of representation planted a quiet but powerful seed of doubt. Maybe this dream wasn’t made for someone like me. Maybe I was too different, too “other.”
So, like many of us do, I tried to conform. I shelved my dreams and played the role of who I thought I was supposed to be. I followed the path that felt “acceptable” to my family and to society. I put my head down and tried to live a life that felt safe—but never authentic. And for a while, I convinced myself that was enough. That blending in was better than standing out and risking rejection.
Then the world stopped.
When COVID hit, everything around me slowed down—but inside, I started to unravel. All the distractions I had used to avoid myself disappeared. I was stuck with my own thoughts, and for the first time, I couldn’t run from the truth: I was deeply unhappy. Not just with my life, but with how far I had strayed from who I really was.
That’s when I took my first real risk. I asked for help.
I reached out to a therapist—something I never thought I’d do. As men, especially gay men trying to prove we’re “tough enough” to survive in a world that often misunderstands us, we’re taught to deal with our feelings alone. But I was drowning in silence. And that choice to speak up—to get help—was the bravest thing I’d done in years.
Therapy cracked something open in me. It forced me to face the parts of myself I’d hidden for so long. The shame. The fear. The quiet voice that still believed I wasn’t enough. It wasn’t easy. Healing rarely is. There were days I didn’t want to show up for myself. But slowly, layer by layer, I started to understand that the things I thought made me “less than” were actually my power.
As I grew stronger inside, I began to change on the outside too. I stood taller. I started to carry myself with pride. And eventually, I returned to that dream I had once buried—the dream of modeling. This time, though, I wasn’t asking for permission. I wasn’t looking to fit in. I wanted to stand out as me.
I started submitting to agencies. I expected silence—or rejection. But the exact opposite happened: I got signed. By multiple agencies. For the first time in my life, the industry that once felt so far away was opening its doors to someone like me. And not because I had changed myself to fit in—but because I had embraced everything that made me different.
And the momentum kept building. I began booking professional shoots. Working gigs. Collaborating with creatives who saw my light and wanted to help me shine even brighter. Then came the biggest leap yet: I auditioned for a reality TV show—and I got cast.
Another dream come true.
I believe I made it through those casting rounds because I didn’t pretend. I showed up as Michael—raw, honest, loud, bold. A version of myself I had worked so hard to uncover and reclaim. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have been ready. I needed that time of stillness, that journey inward, to find out who I really was and what I truly wanted.
Now, I’m not just modeling. I’m showing people—especially young queer kids—that there’s space for them in this world. That it’s okay to be bigger. To be gay. To be emotional. To be unapologetically yourself. I want to be the person I never saw growing up, so maybe someone out there doesn’t have to feel as alone as I once did.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: dreams are worth fighting for. Even the ones that feel impossible. You will face doubt. You will fall. But you can get back up. Again and again. And with each risk you take, you step closer to the life that’s meant for you.
Everything happens for a reason. Every detour, every delay, every moment of doubt—it all leads you to where you’re supposed to be. So take the leap. Say yes to yourself. Live loud, live proud, and live the life you’ve always wanted.
Because you deserve it.
Michael, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
I’m a 32-year-old model, and my journey into the fashion industry was driven by one powerful goal: to be the representation I never saw growing up. As a plus-size, gay redhead, I never felt reflected in mainstream media—especially in the modeling world. While we’ve seen progress in body positivity campaigns for women, the same spotlight has rarely been given to plus-size men. I wanted to change that.
Modeling was a dream I held onto for years, quietly and privately. As a kid, I longed to see someone who looked like me on billboards or magazine covers—someone who could show me that it was okay to be different, and that those differences could be celebrated. But that role model never came. So, when I turned 30, I decided it was time to stop waiting and become that person myself.
The journey wasn’t instant, and it wasn’t easy. It took years of self-reflection, growth, and healing to reach the point where I could confidently step into the spotlight. Therapy played a huge role in that transformation. It helped me work through internalized shame, societal pressures, and a lifetime of feeling “othered.” With time, I started to feel not only comfortable in my own skin—but proud of it.
That pride became the fuel for everything that followed.
I started submitting to modeling agencies with no expectations, just a hope that someone might take a chance on me. To my surprise, they did. I was signed by multiple agencies, which opened the door to incredible opportunities—including working with Target on several photoshoots. Seeing myself in those campaigns wasn’t just surreal; it was empowering. It meant that someone out there might finally see themselves represented in a space that once felt closed off.
But modeling was just the beginning. Another dream of mine, for as long as I can remember, was to compete on a reality TV show. I always imagined what it would be like to step into that kind of environment—not just for the game itself, but for the chance to share my story and show the world who I really am. When I was finally cast, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I truly believe that stepping into my authentic self—flaws, quirks, boldness and all—is what made me stand out.
I went into the show with a strategy, yes. But more importantly, I went in with the commitment to always stay true to who I am. No matter how the game played out, I wanted to leave knowing I never compromised myself. That’s what I’m most proud of—not just getting cast, but showing up fully, unapologetically, and honestly.
If there’s one thing I hope people take from my story, it’s this: you don’t have to wait for permission to chase your dreams. You don’t need to shrink yourself to fit someone else’s version of what’s acceptable or attractive. You are worthy—exactly as you are.
And if no one else has told you that yet, I hope I can be the one who finally does.
We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.
Resilience has been a constant thread in my life, woven through every challenge I’ve faced. One of the most defining moments came when I was just 13 years old and lost my mother. Her death was sudden and life-altering. She was my rock, my safe space, and the one person who made me feel seen and understood. Losing her felt like losing a part of myself, and from that point forward, I had no choice but to grow up quickly.
In the years that followed, life didn’t offer many shortcuts or easy breaks. I had to fight for everything—my confidence, my self-worth, and the courage to dream big in a world that didn’t always feel like it had a place for someone like me. Through it all, my mother’s spirit became my guide. Even though she wasn’t physically with me, her strength was ever-present. When things felt impossible—when I doubted myself, when the path felt too steep—I would pause and ask, “What would my mom do?” The answer was always the same: She’d keep going. She never gave up, and I’ve carried that same fire with me ever since.
That inner resilience, born from heartbreak and shaped by her legacy, is what pushed me forward. It gave me the strength to pursue dreams I once buried—like becoming a model and showing up as my true self in a world that hadn’t always welcomed me. I’ve learned that resilience doesn’t mean never falling; it means continuing to rise, again and again, with purpose, heart, and the voice of someone you love reminding you to keep going.
What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?
To truly support artists, creatives, and a thriving creative ecosystem, society needs to recognize that creativity is not just a hobby—it’s a vital part of culture, connection, and progress. In today’s digital age, social media plays a massive role in how creatives share their work, build communities, and grow their careers. While it offers incredible opportunities, it also opens the door to harsh criticism and negativity. One of the most important things we can do as a society is foster a culture of encouragement instead of tearing people down. If you don’t like someone’s art or content, simply scroll past—there’s no need to publicly belittle someone’s work or character. A single negative comment can drown out a hundred positive ones.
Support can also come in the form of visibility and representation. We need to uplift a broader range of voices—especially those from marginalized communities—so future generations can see themselves reflected in the creative world. That means more inclusive platforms, equitable opportunities, and gatekeepers who are open to change.
We can also support creatives by actually engaging with and investing in their work. That means buying from small artists, sharing their content, showing up to their events, and giving credit where it’s due. It’s not always about financial backing—even a kind message or repost can make a huge impact.
Lastly, we need to normalize the idea that being an artist is a legitimate and valuable career path. That starts in schools, in families, and in policy. When we stop asking creatives to “have a backup plan” and start building infrastructure that honors their work—grants, fair pay, mental health resources, and mentorship programs—we create space for artistry to thrive.
Creativity makes the world more vibrant, expressive, and connected. If we want it to flourish, we have to protect it, nurture it, and most of all—respect the people brave enough to share their voice with the world.
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Image Credits
Andrew Day
Peter Mellekas
Anthony Grassetti
Zack Zerbe