NdukuOutLoud

What is authenticity when you grow up filled with ideas that aren’t rooted in anything except “this is what I was taught”? When the beliefs you carry now were handed down to you like family heirlooms you never asked for. Morality defined by people who lived long before you, in worlds you’ll never inhabit.

What is authenticity when your voice was silenced before you ever said your first word? When you learned- without anyone explicitly teaching you- that everyone prefers the quiet one. The agreeable one. The one who doesn’t fight back, doesn’t raise their voice, doesn’t disrupt the peace. The one who smiles even when offended. Gets along with everybody.

How do we even know we’re being authentic if we’ve never practiced it before?

Everywhere now, people say we should ” bring our authentic selves” into everything we do. Into our work, our relationships, our interactions. And I agree. I want that. I want to show up as myself.

But what is that?

Authenticity, by definition, means being authentic(yes, thank you, dictionary). More seriously: being genuine, real, true to your own personality, values, spirit- aligning your actions with your inner self rather than external pressures. That’s the internet’s version, anyway.

Values I understand. Sticking to values I understand.

It’s the other stuff that gets slippery. The “inner self.” The “spirit”. Not because I don’t believe in them, but because definitions like this assume we already know what those things are. As if our inner self is a familiar room we can walk into at any time. As if our spirit is untainted, intact, waiting patiently for us to return.

But what if it isn’t?

What if you were raised by people who weren’t in touch with theirs? What if you’ve spent your whole life guided by external expectations, not internal ones? What if you’ve never once been encouraged to listen inward? Then how, exactly, are you supposed to be authentic?

If you’ve gotten this far, maybe you think I have the answer. I don’t.

My intention is to question yours while I question mine. And maybe—hopefully—we can figure it out together. Maybe authenticity isn’t something we “return” to, but something we build. Slowly. Clumsily. Honestly.

Maybe we become authentic by practicing it in small ways. In how we act. In what we say. In who we choose to be when no one is watching.

Authentic human beings. Every day.