Performative Authenticity

Am I just becoming cynical about everything now? Everything, everywhere is an advertisement. Or social media post, meant to build a brand around a human. I am dying for something raw and authentic. For someone raw and authentic and true. But could I even believe it to be real?

I know I’m not perfect, either. My social media is full of ads. My room and storage are full of products. Capitalism is everywhere in my life. And maybe I could be more vulnerable, too. I don’t post my feelings anymore, unless it’s regarding some type of media. Favorites are meant to show honest gratefulness for things I enjoy, but am I just a lonely wannabe influencer now? Where did my courage go? Where did my hope go?

Into poems? That I only show my therapist? Can’t publish them, because for once I’m being vulnerable about things that are NOW, not in the past. I wanted to be real. I wanted to tear my heart open and let it all out. But now I have secrets, just like everyone else.

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I wrote that about two weeks ago. It was a private journal entry. A thing I thought I should try to do more often now that I don't blog much. But somehow, after years of pretty personal blogging, going back to writing private journal entries doesn't appeal to me anymore. And I ended up writing about... not writing. Not sharing personal things. Everything feeling fake now.

I watched a video by The Book Leo today that made me think about this again. It's a really good video about "performative reading" but also how the human experience is a push and pull between wanting to be authentic and wanting to be liked.

I have for a long time self-identified as "an extremely authentic person". Being authentic is an important part of my value system, and I find it hard to be around people I perceive as being dishonest or "fake". But I, of course, am also human. And I want to be liked and perceived as "good". "Smart." "Kind." "Talented."

When I was a child, I was brutally rejected by other kids, who in their own way were just trying to be accepted, too. I ended up spending my school days mostly alone, in my own head. I was forced to accept myself as I was, which eventually led to me being a more caring and compassionate adult. But... I first was a very pretentious teenager, who bragged about how much she read. And prided herself on being so much more mature than her classmates.

Was I more myself than I had been when I was trying to be accepted? Yes, definitely. But it was also a performance. Now I wasn't trying to convince my peers I was like everyone else; I was performing being "better" than everyone else. It was just taking on a different role.

Even sharing these thoughts now has a performative aspect. Where does pure authenticity blend into the performance of... "Look, this is who I am! Please, perceive me the way I want to be perceived!" Can our lives be authentic and a performance at the same time?

Of course. We are all humans. The world is a stage. We're all performers on the stage of life. But this is also all we have. The only place to have a true connection is right here.