What is authenticity?

Human authenticity is not like an artwork's authenticity, fixed. It's about being open to possibilities.

You're not a Picasso: Busting the Pop-Culture Myth of Fixed Authenticity

When we hear the word "authentic," we often think of something original—an authentic Picasso, a real Rolex. Something fixed, valuable because it doesn't change, because it is what it is.

But humans aren’t like that. We aren’t things. We evolve, we adapt, we make sense of ourselves. We are constantly in a state of Becoming, we are possibility, always free within the limits of our circumstance.

And yet, we cling to this idea that being authentic means uncovering some hidden “true self,” buried under years of social masks. But what if that’s not how it works? What if there’s no single, pure version of you waiting to be discovered?

Being authentic doesn’t mean finding yourself. It means making yourself—moment by moment—by staying honest with what you feel, what you value, and how you show up. It’s not a destination, it’s a practice. A way of engaging with your life as it unfolds—not perfectly, not always confidently, but with your eyes open.

We are not statues or pieces of art. We’re stories still being written, always in process. And authenticity? It’s the willingness to hold the pen.

Openness to Possibilities

We all want clarity. Definition. Something solid to hold onto. So we try to “figure ourselves out”—as if the self were a puzzle that, once solved, stays solved. But here’s the uncomfortable truth, things change, and uncertainty is the name of the game. Uncertainty is anxiety - evoking.

This is how we get ourselves STUCK, because sometimes we would rather be unhappy, inauthentic but fixed, because being fixed is certain, rather than be anxious but open to possibility.

So instead, we freeze ourselves in place. We pick a label, a role, an identity, and hold it tight. That way, we don’t have to face the anxiety of not knowing. Sartre called this “bad faith”—turning ourselves into a thing so we can avoid the burden of freedom.

But you are not a thing. You are a person. Alive. In motion.

Authenticity doesn’t mean having it all figured out. It means resisting the urge to check out, to go numb, to pretend you’ve already arrived. It’s about being real with what’s hard, and still choosing to move.

Individuality vs Being-with-Others

You didn’t choose where you were born, the culture you inherited, or the people you started with. You were thrown into it. But that doesn’t mean you’re stuck there.

Being authentic isn’t about rejecting everything you came from. It’s about noticing how it sits with you, choosing—consciously—what you carry forward. And that choice is never made in isolation.

We live in relationship. With family. With friends. With colleagues. With the world. And in those relationships, we can either disappear or become more ourselves. Heidegger called this way of relating “solicitude”—a kind of care that doesn’t smother, but allows.

To be authentically with others means we don't dominate or disappear. We stay present. We allow room for others to grow while staying rooted in what matters to us.

That’s hard. It means holding space for tension. For being able to have a foot in the crowd, without being swept away by any one group or role.

Getting lost in the crowd

There’s a kind of comfort in doing what everyone else is doing. Follow the crowd, keep your head down, play the part. No risk. No failure. No responsibility.

But there’s a cost. When you give your decisions over to “what people do,” you slowly disappear. You stop living your own life. You become “stuck on autopilot”—just going through the motions because it’s easier than asking real questions. You maybe even start to forget what things meant to you in the first place.

Here’s the thing: the “they” won’t call you out. The crowd never says, “Hey, is this really what you believe?” It rewards you for blending in.

Authenticity doesn’t mean rejecting the world. It means waking up in it. It’s asking yourself, often and honestly: “Is this mine?” Is this my belief? My choice? Is this how I want to go about life?

When are we inauthentic?

We’re inauthentic when we turn away from what we’re actually feeling. And we do this all the time. It’s not always dramatic. Often, it’s quiet. Background noise. Another episode, another scroll, another snack, another drink. Anything to avoid the discomfort rising in our chest. We distract, deny, numb—because sitting with ourselves can be hard. We fear what might surface if we’re really still.

And we get good at it. So good that after a while, we don’t even notice we’re doing it. We just move from one distraction to the next, numbing the discomfort, smoothing the edges.

But here’s the truth: those uncomfortable moments? They’re data. They’re messages. They’re little invitations to come back to yourself.

Authenticity doesn’t mean you never avoid or escape. It means noticing when you do—and choosing, when you can, to come home. Not to punish yourself. But to reconnect. To listen. To ask, “What’s actually going on with me right now?”

Values: A Compass in the Chaos

Freedom is exhilarating. But it’s also terrifying. To stand in our own life without a script is to feel exposed, uncertain, responsible. What steadies us in this open space? What gives direction without dictating it? Values.

Values are not goals. They are not achievements. They’re not about what we want to get, but about how we want to be. They are chosen qualities of action—ways of moving through the world that feel meaningful, even when outcomes are unclear. Kindness. Courage. Curiosity. Honesty. These are not boxes to tick, but paths to walk.

Living by our values doesn’t remove the anxiety of freedom—it roots us in it. When we know what matters, we can make choices that feel aligned, even in uncertainty. Values ground us without fixing us. They give shape to authenticity without turning us into static things.

And perhaps most importantly, they remind us that we can succeed—or fail—in being true to ourselves. That this is not a given. It’s a practice. A discipline. A way of being that requires attention, reflection, and courage. And that, in itself, is deeply human.

Authenticity Doesn't Mean Being the Same Person Everywhere

A common trap in our search for authenticity is the idea that it means being the same everywhere, with everyone. That if we’re truly ourselves, we must present a single, unified identity—unchanging, consistent, instantly recognisable. But humans don’t work like that. We are not monoliths. We are relational, fluid, and context-sensitive.

You are not the same with your grandmother as you are with your best friend, or your boss, or the stranger at the bus stop. And this doesn’t mean you’re being fake. It means you’re alive to the moment, responsive to the space between self and other. Authenticity doesn’t mean rigidity—it means integrity. It’s not about sameness, but about coherence. Are your words and actions arising from what matters to you, even if they take different forms in different settings?

When we demand sameness of ourselves, we deny the richness of human interaction. We begin to perform an idea of who we think we are, instead of meeting the world as we are—dynamic, plural, and still grounded in our values. The self is not a statue to be revealed. It is a symphony to be played differently in every room, without ever losing its melody.