The Paris Olympics delivered Australia its greatest-ever performance at an overseas Games.

And yet, for many, the resounding image of Paris 2024 will be that of Australian breakdancer Dr Rachael “Raygun” Gunn: the green and gold tracksuit, the kangaroo-paw, the unbridled enthusiasm.

She may not have scored a single point, but that’s beside the point. In a performance that captured global fascination, polarised audiences and accidentally ignited a culture war, Gunn became the viral story of the Olympics.

In the post-Games wash-up, her profile exploded. Athletes worldwide copied her moves, Adele outed herself as a fan, and Raygun became the Halloween outfit of choice.

At the time of writing, it’s no great leap to say most people have seen some of the Raygun routine – well, almost everyone.

“To be honest, I haven’t watched it back because I don’t usually like watching myself anyway, but also, the camera angles are pretty bad,” Gunn says.

“It didn’t do me justice; it’s not a representation of who I am as a dancer, but these days, I am in the business of looking forward, not looking back.”

It’s a business that is looking increasingly lucrative. Despite crashing out of her event, Gunn is learning that becoming a meme is potentially worth a lot more than winning a medal. Following the Olympics, the 37-year-old university lecturer (who had fewer than 4000 Instagram followers when she competed but now boasts more than 200,000) signed with Born Bred Talent agency.

The agency is home to some of the country’s most profitable social media stars, including The Inspired Unemployed, and was crucial in Gunn securing her first brand partnership with Finder, the global financial technology company, to front the #RaygunChallenge.

The campaign leans into Raygun’s controversial moves, encouraging entrants to submit a dance video to Instagram with the hashtag #RaygunChallenge. “I’ve heard some of you think you can do better than me,” Gunn says in a video posted to Instagram by Finder. “Really?”

“I had to wait for everyone to calm down before I could show that I was up for having a laugh and start these kinds of brand deals,” Gunn says. “This campaign has been great because it encourages people to be authentic, which is precisely what I was doing in Paris.”

Gunn’s deal with Finder is for a single campaign at present, though a Finder spokesperson confirmed the company may continue working with Gunn.

According to celebrity manager Max Markson, who runs the talent agency Markson Sparks, these types of one-off deals are “usually worth about $50,000 for someone of Raygun’s profile”.

Finder may be Gunn’s first paid brand deal, but it won’t be her last. However, rather than striking while the iron is hot, she is engaging in a more delicate dance: extending her 15 minutes of fame without saying yes to everything.

“I know everyone thinks I’m this marketing mastermind and that I set up this whole scenario from the Olympics like I’m some kind of plant,” Gunn says.

“I didn’t plan for any of this, but it would be silly not to leverage this moment, so I’m just taking it as it comes, and if I get an opportunity that resonates with my values and personality, then yeah, let’s work together.”

According to Gunn, who lectures on dance and gender politics at Macquarie University, she has a few projects “happening behind the scenes”. But while Brand Raygun remains in its infancy, she’s not walking away from academia.

“I’m still marking papers to pay the bills; I have a whole stack to mark right now,” she says. “And I still enjoy research and being in the classroom.”

One thing Gunn won’t bend on is the shiny lure of reality TV. Making a quick buck eating crickets in the jungle or dancing with the stars is a popular pathway for people in her position, but having lost control of her image once, she isn’t about to do it again.

“You surrender how you’re represented, and I feel I’ve already gone through that,” says Gunn, who has turned down several reality TV offers. “I much prefer live television, panels and talk shows, where you can engage with the energy of people around you.”

For now, however, she is happy to let the empire-building happen in the background while she focuses on doing what she does best: marching to the beat of her own drum.

“There is a lot to figure out, and I have family and friends to help me with those decisions, but I’m in a much better place than I was after the Olympics figured, and that’s the main thing,” Gunn says. “What I care about is that people have the confidence to be themselves.”

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at thomas.mitchell@smh.com.au or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.