I want to clear up a few myths about myself. People have written

The words of Krista Allen—“I want to clear up a few myths about myself. People have written that I was a kindergarten teacher and a former Miss Texas, and neither is true”—speak not only to her personal life, but to a greater truth about how the world builds legends and illusions around those who step into the light of fame. In her words is the eternal struggle of the self against the shadows cast by rumor and misperception. They remind us that while one may control their deeds, they cannot always control the stories told about them, and thus must labor to guard the flame of truth.

The origin of such a statement lies in the age-old tension between reality and myth. From the dawn of civilization, storytellers, poets, and chroniclers have often shaped the lives of individuals into symbols, sometimes distorting fact in pursuit of a tale more pleasing to the ear. In the courts of kings, rumors could build or break dynasties; in the streets of Athens or Rome, whispers could elevate a general to a god or reduce him to scorn. In the modern age, where the written word spreads quickly through the press and the digital ether, this old pattern is amplified. What happened in the marketplace of antiquity now happens before the eyes of millions.

Consider the story of Cleopatra, whose legacy was twisted by Roman historians. To her people, she was a sovereign of intelligence and grace; to her enemies, she was painted as a seductress, a manipulator, a witch who ensnared powerful men. Her reality, rich and complex, was buried beneath propaganda. She too, like Krista Allen, might have wished to “clear up a few myths about herself.” This example shows how easily a life can be reshaped by voices outside of it, and how vital it is for each individual to reclaim their narrative.

Allen’s declaration is also a reminder of the burden carried by those who live in the public eye. To be told you are something you are not—whether a kindergarten teacher or a Miss Texas—may seem harmless to some, but to the one misrepresented, it is a theft of identity. For each falsehood, however small, erodes the integrity of the truth, and if left unchecked, can weave a cloak of illusion that hides the real person beneath. Her words are an act of resistance: the reclaiming of self against the tide of rumor.

But there is also a universal lesson in her statement. Each of us, whether known to thousands or to only a few, faces the risk of being misunderstood, mislabeled, or judged by stories that are not our own. Neighbors may speak falsely, workplaces may spread assumptions, even friends may craft a version of us that does not match reality. In such moments, the wise must rise with courage and, like Allen, declare the truth: “This is who I am, and this is who I am not.”

From this arises a clear teaching: guard your identity, for it is the treasure that no one else can hold for you. When others speak falsehood, do not grow bitter, but clarify with strength. When others weave myths, do not let them bind you, but gently unravel them with truth. And when the world presses you into molds that do not fit, stand tall and show the world your true shape, even if it takes patience and persistence to be seen clearly.

What then shall we do? First, we must commit to truth in our own speech, resisting the temptation to pass along rumors about others. Second, we must support those whose voices are drowned by falsehood, amplifying their right to define themselves. Finally, in our own lives, we must not shrink from correcting misconceptions, no matter how trivial they may seem, for each correction is an affirmation of dignity.

Thus, Krista Allen’s words, though spoken of herself, echo across the ages as a reminder: though myths may rise like fog around us, the sun of truth must always shine through. To clear away falsehood is not vanity—it is the sacred duty of every soul that wishes to walk in the world as it truly is, unmasked, unbroken, and free.