Being Steven Brunswijk for a Day

Here’s a short, immersive story that lets you step into the shoes of Steven Brunswijk—a man known for his high energy, magnetic presence, unapologetic honesty, and disarming sense of humor. You’ll experience his charismatic behaviors like code-switching between Dutch and Surinamese, expressive body language, bold comedic timing, and his unique ability to command a room.

"Being Steven Brunswijk for a Day"

Scene 1: The Morning Mirror

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Hair’s fresh, skin glowing. You flash yourself a wink.

“Kijk die man nou, hè. Gewoon klaar om de wereld te ownen.”
(“Look at this guy—ready to own the world.”)

You raise both arms in a mock boxing stance and throw two playful jabs at your reflection.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes. It’s a podcast host confirming your guest appearance for later. You smirk.
Time to drop some Steven Brunswijk realness on the mic.

Scene 2: The Grocery Store – Charisma in Action

You walk into the store. Everyone feels your presence. Not because you’re loud—but because you walk with unapologetic confidence. That Steven Brunswijk energy: upright, eyes scanning, smile cocked at the ready.

A kid stares at you from a shopping cart seat.

You widen your eyes dramatically and say, “Wajoo, kleine man! Je kijkt me aan alsof ik een Big Mac ben!”
(“Whoa, little man! You're looking at me like I’m a Big Mac!”)

The kid’s mom laughs. So does the cashier. The tension melts. This is the Brunswijk effect: humor that cuts through awkwardness like butter.

You toss your items on the belt and joke with the cashier about how you still don't know how to pronounce "quinoa."

“Dat lijkt meer op een Pokémon dan op eten, man.”
(“That sounds more like a Pokémon than food, man.”)

People behind you are smiling. They’re not in a rush anymore. You just made the checkout lane the place to be.

Scene 3: On the Podcast – Honest, Unfiltered, Magnetic

You're seated at the mic. The host asks, “Steven, you’re funny, but you’re also deep—how do you balance that?”

You lean in slightly. Eyes lock on the host.

“Geloof me—ik heb een mening over alles. En als je die niet aankan? Ga maar thee drinken met je hamster.”
(“Believe me—I’ve got an opinion on everything. And if you can’t handle it? Go sip tea with your hamster.”)

Laughter erupts. But then you shift tone—smooth and natural.

“People think charisma is just being funny. Nah. It’s about being present. Being honest. If I think something is bullshit, I’ll say it. Maar met liefde.”
(“But with love.”)

That’s the Steven Brunswijk duality: raw and warm. The audience feels it.

Scene 4: Home with Family – Where the Charm Softens

Later, you’re home. Your daughter runs into your arms. You melt instantly, voice soft, Surinamese slipping in.

“Mi lobi yu, meisje. Papa e trobi yu.”
(“I love you, girl. Daddy missed you.”)

This is where your charisma becomes intimacy. You’re still the same man—but here, it’s gentler. Still vibrant, still expressive—but with warmth that fills the room like music.

You tuck her in, kiss her forehead, and whisper, “Jij bent mijn grootste show.”
(“You’re my greatest performance.”)

Scene 5: The Reflection Again

You return to the mirror. The day’s behind you. The performance is over—but the authenticity never left.

You point at yourself.

“Morgen weer lachen, hè. Da’s gratis.”
(“Tomorrow, we laugh again. It’s free.”)

You laugh to yourself, full-hearted, and snap your fingers.

Here's another immersive and cinematic day in the life of Steven Brunswijk—this time with the focus on legacy through presence: realizing that your natural charisma isn’t just entertainment, but a gift that lingers in people’s lives, creating moments they’ll remember.

This day ends in a moment of reflection and gratitude, not only for the laughs but for the invisible impact made.

"A Day of Impact – Steven Brunswijk Realizes the Ripple"

Scene 1: Morning Café – Laughs with a Purpose

You’re at your favorite café, grabbing a strong Surinamese coffee. The barista looks tired. You notice.

“Hé broer, ik zie je struggelen. Is het de koffie of je ex?”
(“Hey bro, I see you struggling. Is it the coffee or your ex?”)

He bursts out laughing. You don't stop there—you keep going.

You mimic the sound of a deep espresso machine like it's a DJ booth. “Kijk, dit is DJ Arabica, live vanuit Koffieclub 3000!”
(“This is DJ Arabica, live from Coffee Club 3000!”)

Now the entire café is smiling. The barista whispers, “Thanks man… I needed that.”

You shrug with a wink. “Gewoon m’n werk.”
(“Just doing my job.”)

What you don’t realize yet: that barista will tell that story for weeks.

Scene 2: School Visit – More Than a Joke

You’ve been invited to speak at a school.

When you walk in, the teens are half-listening—phones out, leaning back.

You grab the mic.

“Als je denkt dat charisma is doen alsof je cool bent, dan kan je net zo goed een cactus daten.”
(“If you think charisma is pretending to be cool, you might as well date a cactus.”)

They laugh. Phones go down. You’ve got them now.

Then you switch gears.

“I used to talk too much in class. Look at me now—getting paid for it. But real talk? What got me here was knowing who I am. The funny part… and the heavy part.”

You share a story. Not a punchline—a moment from your youth when you felt invisible. A few nods. A quiet settles.

A girl in the back wipes a tear. Later, she comes up to thank you. “You made me feel seen.”

That moment? You’ll never forget it.

Scene 3: Surprise Encounter – Legacy in the Street

You’re walking through Rotterdam. A man stops you.

“Steven! You don’t remember me, do you?”

You try to place him.

He says, “You once said something after a show—just a sentence. ‘Hou vol, man. Je doet het goed.’ I was about to quit my job. That night, I didn’t.”

You’re quiet for a second. This wasn’t a stage moment. This was the lobby. A throwaway line, you thought.

Turns out it wasn’t throwaway at all.

“Jij hebt mij geraakt, bro. En m’n dochter zegt nu: ‘Papa lacht meer sinds hij die man ontmoette.’”
(“You touched me, bro. And now my daughter says, ‘Daddy laughs more since he met that man.’”)

You hug him. Tight. No jokes. Just presence.

Scene 4: Home – The Grateful Mirror

Back home, the house is quiet. The city buzz fades outside your window.

You sit on the couch. Not performing. Just being.

You whisper out loud to yourself:
“Ik dacht dat ik mensen liet lachen. Maar misschien… misschien laat ik ze leven.”
(“I thought I made people laugh. But maybe… maybe I help them live.”)

You think about the barista, the girl at the school, the man on the street.

You take a deep breath and speak a soft prayer—not religious, but real.

“Dankjewel voor deze dag. Voor de mensen. Voor de kans om iets te betekenen zonder dat ik het altijd doorheb.”
(“Thank you for this day. For the people. For the chance to mean something—even when I don’t always realize it.”)

You smile. It’s a different smile now. Not the one you wear on stage. The one you save for yourself.

The lights go out. Another day of living loud… and loving quietly.