Laura Mason.
In an industry obsessed with perception, the truth can be hard to find.
Media, marketing and advertising are built on storytelling. But behind the creative campaigns and polished personas, there’s a quieter, more toxic narrative playing out. One where careers are shaped not by performance, but by whispers. One where reputations are built or broken by rumours.
Let’s stop pretending gossip is not harmless. It’s a form of professional bullying. And in an industry that prides itself on innovation and inclusion, this behaviour is alarmingly outdated.
Gossip rarely starts with facts. It starts with fragments - observations without context, moments out of character, conversations misunderstood. And yet those fragments get passed along, magnified and mutated, until they become “truth.”
The impact? Deep. Often invisible. Sometimes irreversible.
This isn’t theory. I’ve lived it. I’ve watched a single moment - possibly misinterpreted, definitely unchecked - spiral into something career-altering. Not because someone asked me what happened. But because no one did.
In the wake of that experience, I questioned everything: my capability, my worth, my future. Like many in our industry who’ve been on the receiving end of the rumour mill, I felt isolated, humiliated, and dehumanised. And I’m not alone.
Gossip disproportionately affects women, single parents, people of colour, neurodivergent individuals - those who already sit closer to the margins of power in our industry. When your identity already comes with assumptions, it doesn’t take much for gossip to tip into exclusion.
Yet we still accept it. Laugh it off. Join in. Or stay silent.
It’s not enough to label ourselves as champions of inclusion while we tear each other down behind closed doors. It’s not enough to post about mental health and workplace culture if we’re not willing to look in the mirror at how our words - or silence - contribute to the problem.
Here’s the truth: the people you gossip about are often the ones working the hardest just to stay in the game. They may be leading teams, raising kids, battling burnout, or quietly coping with things you’ll never see. And when we reduce them to a single story or worse, a rumour - we strip away their humanity.
So, what do we do?
We start by pausing. By asking ourselves: Is what I’m about to say kind? Necessary? Even true?
We approach one another directly, not through whispers. We create cultures where speaking up is safer than speaking behind. We reward honesty and empathy the same way we reward results.
And most importantly we give people the chance to be human. To make mistakes. To be misunderstood. To recover.
To those who have gossiped about me: thank you. You made me stronger. You taught me that my worth doesn’t live in your perception - it lives in how I show up. And I’m still here, more clear-eyed and resilient than ever.
But this isn’t just about me. It’s about all of us.
We work in an industry that can shape culture. Let’s start with ourselves.
Let’s be better than the stories we tell about each other.