The Paradox of Authenticity
Authenticity is a scam, but don’t worry, you’re playing the game too.
“The race of man, while sheep in credulity, are wolves for conformity.”
~ Carl Clinton Van Duren
When I started this blog podcast back in 2020, the second episode I had published was titled ‘Being Yourself vs Loving Yourself’. In that, I make the argument that sometimes in life, simply ‘being oneself’ may not be enough to be happy. For instance, if one’s life is characterised by having unhealthy habits, poor relationships, and a suffering state of mind, telling them to just let it all go and ‘embrace their true self’ doesn’t help them. Granted, they could try to spiritually bypass this as well and say that they’ve learned to let go of everything, and so even though their life may be miserable, it doesn’t bother them — in which case, having a conversation with them in itself is futile.
Despite what books, social media, and our loved ones might tell us, ‘being yourself’ is more nuanced than it seems to be. Authenticity, when observed closely, is no less than another one of the many games we play in our lives. A game that we play both with ourselves and with others. I’ve been noticing this game play out in my life over the past few years across all my relationships, and I’m certain that I’m not alone. How often have you heard the following or some variation of the following sentences from people in your life:
“I want you to be authentic and genuine with me.”
“I love you for who you are, not who I want you to be.”
“I don’t want you to change for me or anyone else.”
“I want you to be yourself with me.”
Sound familiar? Whether you hear this from a manager at work or from a loved one at home, from seeing a 15-second reel from an influencer on Instagram, or reading 3 pages of a self-help book in your local bookstore, the idea remains the same. We’re always told to ‘embrace our true self’ and be authentic in this world — but how often do we do this? How often do we really be ourselves and express our true beliefs and desires without fear of judgment? And how often do we accept those around us who express their true desires without judging them?
I say rarely if we’re lucky. The society we live in demands authenticity, but punishes it at the same time. In a world that rewards conformity, we’re playing this game without acknowledging the rules…which is fine, as long as we admit it to ourselves.
The Impossible Deal - is there a true self at all?
One major problem with the idea of authenticity is the assumption that there is a single, unchanging ‘true self’ that we must honour at all times. But is that even real? Or is it just another illusion we’ve been sold?
In one of my other episodes titled ‘The Ego Game’, I mention that the idea of an ‘ego’ or a ‘defined self’ is an illusion that we hold to be true. The idea that there is something that makes us ‘us’ in our thoughts and actions. The reason this is an illusion is that we as humans are always evolving. Our thoughts, emotions, and behaviours shift based on life experiences, social environments, and even the people we spend time with. The version of ‘you’ from five years ago is likely very different from the ‘you’ today, so which one is the authentic one? And if the answer is “both,” doesn’t that contradict the idea of a single true self?
Maybe authenticity isn’t about discovering some hidden, pure version of ourselves. Maybe it’s about something else entirely — like choosing which parts of ourselves to express based on what serves us best in the moment. This is where things get even more interesting. While the world tells us to ‘be ourselves,’ it also has a very clear set of rules for what is and isn’t acceptable.
Take social media, for example. We’re encouraged to be real, to show our lives authentically. But the moment someone shares an unfiltered, less-than-perfect reality — whether it’s a controversial belief or statement, an emotional breakdown, or even just looking “unglamorous” — they risk backlash. We want vulnerability, but only the kind that fits within socially acceptable limits.
This contradiction isn’t limited to the online world. Workplaces preach the importance of bringing your ‘whole self’ to work, but if that ‘whole self’ includes certain strong opinions, unconventional behaviours, or personal struggles, you’re suddenly ‘not a culture fit.’ For instance, organisations keep talking about how they look for people who ‘think out of the box’ and bring ‘innovative solutions’ to problems. However, what do they do when someone joins and does that, challenging the authority and their systems? They shut them down. Granted, this may not be true in all cases, but even so, organisations only want the level of innovation that fits within their own created boundaries. How is that encouraging authenticity if all they want is just another robot in the assembly line?
Relationships are no different. We tell our partners, “I love you for who you are,” yet we also hold expectations for how they should behave, what habits they should change, and which aspects of themselves should be adjusted for the sake of the relationship. This inherent contradiction creates a complex dance where both partners try to balance genuine expression with relationship maintenance. The result is often a watered-down version of authenticity, where we carefully curate which parts of ourselves to reveal and which to keep hidden.
It’s no surprise, then, that people play it safe. The world tells us to be authentic, but what it means is: be yourself, as long as it aligns with what we approve of.
The Unspoken Rules
If authenticity is a game, then it’s one we all play—whether consciously or unconsciously. We adapt based on context, choosing when to reveal certain sides of ourselves and when to hold back.
At work, we adopt professional personas that make us seem competent and likable, for example, resisting the urge to say that our colleague’s business proposal is trash. In friendships, we might avoid certain topics to keep the peace, like not talking about politics if you believe in capitalism and are surrounded by left-wing folks. One friend might want to do something for another as a means of sharing their love, but what if the other friend does not want to receive their love in that manner? Is the second friend rejecting the first friend’s love, or is it simply embracing their authentic nature and autonomy?
In personal relationships, we sometimes suppress parts of ourselves to make things work. For instance, a couple argues due to miscommunication, or because one partner believes that the other did not respond in a way that they would’ve hoped for.
Maybe part of this comes down to expectations. What do we expect from those around us, and how does that affect our ability to handle cases when things don’t turn out the way we expected them to? I’ve written about this in my article on anger, how all instances of ‘anger’ are characterised by cases of reality not meeting our expectations. These expectations then lead to our underlying feelings of not being able to truly express the way we feel in certain situations because we’re considering the feelings of those around us. None of this is necessarily bad—in many cases, it’s necessary for social harmony. But it does mean that pure, unfiltered authenticity is rarely (if ever) achievable.
Some people pride themselves on “saying it like it is” and being brutally honest, but even they have limits. There are always consequences for expressing certain truths, and even the most unfiltered people strategically choose which hills they’re willing to die on. For example, what do you do if someone asks you something personal about a sexual fantasy or a kink? One that you may be embarrassed to talk about? This begs the question - ‘How do we play this game in a way that doesn’t feel like we’re betraying ourselves?’
I believe that instead of viewing it as a binary state of being either completely genuine or completely fake, we could see it as a spectrum of conscious choices. This also means that if authenticity is a spectrum of conscious choices, then at what point do we stop being “ourselves” and start becoming a curated version of who we think we should be? If we’re constantly calibrating our responses based on the social landscape, is there ever a moment where we’re purely us—unfiltered, uncalculated, unbothered by external perception?
It’s like Schrödinger’s authenticity—the moment we observe it, it changes. The second we think about whether we’re being authentic, we introduce self-awareness, which inevitably leads to modification. Ironically, the only people who express themselves without filtering at all tend to be either toddlers or those with a complete disregard for social norms (and let’s be honest, neither group is known for their thriving social lives).
Think of authenticity like an onion (yes, we’re going full Shrek here). There are different layers of your truth, and not everyone gets access to the deepest ones. Maybe the colleague gets the professional-yet-friendly version of you, your close friends get your unfiltered thoughts, and your inner self—the version that exists even when no one is looking- remains your own to cultivate.
The mistake we often make is assuming authenticity means being the same person everywhere. But in reality, a flexible identity isn’t inauthentic—it’s just human.
One of the biggest reasons we struggle with authenticity is the fear that people won’t get us. That if we show too much, we’ll be judged, and if we show too little, we’ll feel unseen. But the truth is, no matter how carefully you calibrate your words and actions, there will always be people who misinterpret, reject, or simply don’t vibe with your version of “real.” And that’s okay. Instead of bending to be palatable to everyone, the goal is to be understood by the right people—the ones who resonate with the version of you that matters most.
Embracing the Chaos
So what do we do with all this? If there’s no “true self” hidden beneath the surface, if we’re all just an ever-evolving mess of contradictions, how do we move forward without feeling like frauds?
Stop treating authenticity like a moral high ground.
It’s not about being more real than others. It’s about knowing when to adapt and when to hold your ground. Some people weaponise “brutal honesty” as an excuse to be rude. Others avoid confrontation to the point of losing themselves. The goal isn’t to be one or the other—it’s to choose wisely when to filter and when to let go.
Accept that identity is fluid.
You’re going to change. Your values might shift. What you once believed about yourself might no longer be true. That doesn’t mean you were lying before—it just means you were growing. Instead of clinging to a rigid sense of self, embrace the fact that the most authentic thing you can do is evolve.
Accept that some people won’t get it.
Not everyone will see you the way you want to be seen. Not everyone will understand why you made a certain choice. And that’s fine. Authenticity may just be about being at peace with the fact that some people will misinterpret you, and choosing to live in alignment anyway.
If life is a game, then authenticity isn’t about refusing to play—it’s about learning the rules well enough to break them strategically. The irony is, the more we let go of the pressure to be “authentic” in some rigid, unchanging way, the more real we become.
Because in the end, authenticity isn’t about whether you’re being the real you. It’s about whether you’re being a real you—the one that makes sense for right now, without betraying what matters most.
That, at least, is the best any of us can do.