Dropping the Mask: Why It’s So Hard to Be Authentic.
“It’s Me…What Can I Do?”
Who are we — really?
What makes us — us?
We are told to just be ourselves. But what does that even mean? And why does it feel so hard to do?
I’ve spent a large portion of my life trying to answer these questions.
In my teen’s I learned a lot about who I was expected to be. Who my culture, community, and society was shaping me to be. I learned what happened when you didn’t quite fit the mold.
In my twenties I experienced. I travelled. I tried on — and ultimately discarded multiple versions of myself.
In my thirties I worked, and I studied. I absorbed as much wisdom and knowledge from as many brilliant minds as I could.
And now — in my forties I am looking at all those versions of myself, knowing that I didn’t shed those versions of myself — not really anyway.
“Is me, what can I do?”
One of the most profound experiences I ever had was in a Buenos Aires strip club, accented by cigarette smoke and a humid musk. The crew for the night was an eclectic mix of strangers turned friends for an evening. There’s something comforting about temporary friends that allows you to drop your defences enough to explore a new version of you. That night there was an effortlessly charismatic Brazilian woman whose laughter sliced through the smokey haze, vibrant and captivating. She radiated something electric, something raw and deeply rooted, something real.
I, on the other hand, felt like mismatched puzzle pieces — self-conscious, unsure, and perpetually out of sync. I carried my insecurities like an invisible backpack, heavy with the need for approval and the fear of rejection. My sense of self was fragile, shaped more by how I thought others perceived me than by any internal compass. She seemed weightless, unburdened by others’ expectations. Her sense of self wasn’t just resilient; it was celebrated within her. She didn’t shrink to fit into spaces; she expanded, claiming her place in the world.
I had already assembled the base of the pedestal I was ready to place her on when she recounted a deeply personal story of rejection. I was stunned. How could someone so magnetic, so unapologetically herself, ever be rejected? Surely rejection was reserved for those more like me, those unsure, fearful, and awkward. I leaned in, with a mixture of curiosity and envy, and listened as she embraced the discomfort of the revelation. Then she shrugged, smiled a deeply authentic smile and nonchalantly said —
“Is me…what can I do?”
That simple phrase has echoed in my mind for over two decades. No grand speech, no elaborate justification — just radical authenticity wrapped in a casual shrug. It wasn’t indifference; it was freedom. A quiet, unshakeable freedom rooted in authentic self-acceptance. I whisper it to myself when my mask feels suffocating, when the ache to belong threatens to eclipse the space to just be.
Authenticity isn’t about never feeling insecure. It’s about choosing not to abandon yourself in the face of that insecurity. It’s the courage to speak your truth, even when your voice shakes, even when rejection looms. Authenticity isn’t about always fitting in or always being accepted. It’s the courage to know that when you are able to accept yourself, rejection is a temporary state.
Authenticity challenges the protective strategies we’ve developed over a lifetime. The people-pleasing, the perfectionism, the chameleon-like ability to adapt. But what happens when the cost of fitting in is losing touch with who we are?
But….
Who are we — really?
Join me on my lifelong journey to answer that question. Let’s explore the science behind our fear of authenticity, the emotional cost of wearing masks, the practical struggles we face when authenticity feels (and is) unsafe, and the transformative power of living in alignment with our true selves.
This isn’t a guide to perfection. This isn’t a map of steps to get to a destination.
It’s an invitation to explore, reflect, and take small, courageous steps toward the kind of freedom that comes from being unapologetically you.
Join me in dropping the mask. On the messy, beautiful, liberating work of being real. Join me on quiet rebellion against conformity, and to the radical, everyday act of living, “Is me…what can I do?”
