Authenticity (Terms & Conditions Apply)

But how do you know something is missing when you are not entirely sure what it is?

It's certainly more than just "being yourself” or “speaking your truth." It is not oversharing. It's not overexplaining.

Someone once called it “radical transparency,” but that… feels exhausting.

Without a definitive, tangible description, authenticity begins to feel relational, something closely tied to alignment. Less like self-disclosure and more like self-congruence.

To me, it feels more like an absence of internal contradiction. A reduction of internal noise. The relief of not having to maintain multiple layers of "you" simultaneously. Acting and speaking in ways that do not require constant monitoring of whether you are performing a version of yourself designed for someone else’s approval.

That sense of coherence doesn't come naturally. At least, not to me—more like a never-ending "work in progress".

I’ve found it requires excavation—digging in places one would rather leave alone. Self-examination paired with the uncomfortable realisation that certain traits are not really “you,” but well-executed imitations. Borrowed behaviours. Performances of "personality."

Therapy helps. Time helps. The slow process of letting go of what you may admire in others but that is not, truly, yours. It is not some kind of dramatic unveiling. It is a continuous, careful, almost hesitant, subtraction.

Careful, because it carries risk. When you stop (even just for a moment) adjusting yourself to what is “outside,” you relinquish control over how your "inside" will be received. It feels much safer to anticipate, then tweak, soften, or amplify accordingly. Authenticity means removing a few of those protective layers.

When it lands well, it feels like safety. When it doesn’t, it feels like rejection.

In leadership, what often passes for “authenticity” is visible vulnerability, informality, and a well-timed personal anecdote. But authenticity shouldn't mean an absence of discretion, should it? You are walking into an office, not a confessional booth. Nor is it a reality show where plot twists or dramatic outbursts will get you screen time.

The conflation of authenticity and oversharing troubles me. At any given moment, you may be withholding information from your team, your supervisor, your colleagues. Not because you are misaligned. Not because you are playing mind games (with yourself or anyone else). Maybe it's because timing matters. Because context matters.

Alignment does not require immediate disclosure of every internal decision. You are not lying. You are choosing when and how to speak. And when you do speak, what is heard may be something else entirely.

There is being authentic.
There is signalling authenticity.
And there is being perceived as authentic.

Being authentic begins internally—with values, beliefs, and actions that feel coherent. To you, not anyone else. Signalling it, however, is where we enter the realm of translation. Authenticity must be legible to be received, and the “language” through which others understand it may differ significantly from your own.

From there, interpretation takes over the steering wheel. Your "inner alignment" is put through the filters of expectations, culture, hierarchy, personal bias, and more.

You can consider yourself to be very authentic, feel deeply in tune with yourself, yet fail to communicate it in ways others recognise. On the flip side—though arguably more difficult to pull off—you can be seen as authentic simply because you're consistent. Even if you feel confused and misaligned, but what you present to the world is a carefully curated image.

In signalling theory, credible signals are said to carry a cost. They must be observable and difficult to fake in order to be believed. Authenticity signals may just be the case—the cost being the risk. The risk of rejection. The risk of misinterpretation. The risk that what is "authentically you" will not translate.

The balance between these risks and the reward of being "you" is not merely moral. It is structural. Power, as it often does, complicates things further.

Authenticity is easier to inhabit when you hold authority. What do you care if others do not vibe with the “real you”? Your quirks become visionary. Your bluntness becomes decisive. But lower in the hierarchy, the same behaviours can easily read as immaturity or lack of polish. As such, authenticity is interpreted through role and status.

If we wish to cultivate authentic leadership, how do we do so once authenticity leaves the private realm and becomes relational? Which traits do we foster and which do we recommend be adapted to a given context? And does the latter preclude authenticity by itself?

One tried approach is to break the construct into dimensions: self-awareness, relational transparency, balanced processing, internalised moral perspective. Sensible attempt to make something more tangible, measurable. Yet if each of these elements looks different across contexts, cultures, and power dynamics, how do we calibrate our measuring sticks?

It may even be that followers respond less to raw authenticity than to coherence over time. To moral grounding that appears stable. To a leader who does not contradict themselves every other week. If that is the case, authenticity would not be a single, measurable act but a pattern that incubates across interactions, adding some extra variables to the mix.

When taking a step back to wonder why authenticity is a coveted trait in the first place, my thoughts gravitate toward effectiveness. Not in the get-things-done sense, but by way of establishing effective professional relationships built on trust and clarity. Being "authentic" with one another so we can collaborate effectively, and skip the politics.

It is entirely possible to be deeply authentic and still ineffective, however. When the desire to be fully seen and understood becomes more important than the outcome itself. Authenticity, elevated too high, becomes self-referential and an end in itself.

And it does not mean rejection of managing impressions. Being strategic about one's expression does not have to mean manipulative. Contextual does not have to mean fake.

Authenticity, as I see it, is less about refusing adaptation and more about refusing distortion. While it may begin as inner alignment, it becomes real in interaction. You can strive for internal coherence, but once it enters the public sphere, it becomes co-constructed.

It requires translation, legibility, and an environment whose ambient noise doesn’t warp the message.

Perhaps these are all the caveats I am learning to live with. Authenticity does not guarantee acceptance. It does not ensure effectiveness. It does not protect against misinterpretation. Even if, without it, something fundamental feels misaligned.

As such, authenticity may be less a brand to adopt or a license to disregard context, and more of a discipline. One that demands awareness of self and the system simultaneously.

Terms and conditions apply.