Share your voice: Why do we hide our true selves?
In a writing circle, a member mentioned she struggled to share her writing online. She felt the need to hide her voice and the longing to share her writing. This push-and-pull of wanting to be visible (but not vulnerable to criticism) resonated with me. What stops me from sharing my writing unapologetically? [4.2.25.]
Key points
Authenticity and fitting in: Being true to ourselves often means going against the current. If we embraced this process we’d inspire others to do the same.
Visibility vs. Vulnerability: Often we want to share our work but fear criticism. It’s not about oversharing ourselves but asking how we’re using our voice.
Perfectionism and not offending anyone: The fear of not being good enough stops us from sharing our work. Also, giving up the need to please everyone means we can express our true selves and take up more space.
Why do we hide our “authentic selves” to fit in?
I was walking against the crowd in Kings Cross station, saying “sorry” for disrupting the flow. I realised, “This is what it feels like to be myself— uncomfortable but necessary.”
We’ve all heard, “Live your truth” and “act in alignment with your values” but how easy is this? We can get crystal clear on our values, beliefs and commitments but life (yes, that messy thing called Life) gets in the way. For example, I’ve had the intention to write a book on motherhood.
Writing on motherhood is a deeply personal journey for me and it aligns with my values to be a better mother and therapist—and yet I’ve only written one sentence. Saying and doing are two separate things and it’s not as easy as just “have the belief and do it” because responsibilities and duties march forth and before I know it I’m knee-high in laundry.
I think I hide my authenticity because there are “shoulds” and expectations that I’m trying to follow. Being myself, not an imitation of how I think I should be (or told I should be) is like being naked. I read an animal book to my one-and-a-half-year-old son the other day. It was about chameleons who could camouflage in any environment to fit in and avoid danger. Being half Asian, half British, that’s what I’ve done in the UK. I’m from here, but not ethnically from here. Each time I’ve lived in another country (South Korea and Japan) I’ve been “other” too. In Japan, they described me as “Gaikokujin (外国人)” (Japanese for “foreign-country person.” Gai means “outside” and koku means “country” —so, outside country person.
Perhaps we all feel “outside” and “other”. We all fear standing out, afraid of criticism, but authenticity can inspire strangers to open up. My biggest life shifts—moving to Japan, learning to drive, leaving London, becoming a mother—started with a gut feeling.
Following my intuition and values has always led me in the right direction, even when it’s brought chaos. It’s the brightest parts of ourselves that we fear the most because if we listened to them we’d lean into transformation more. It reminds me of the Friedrich Nietzsche quote:
“I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. I say unto you: you still have chaos in yourselves.”
Visibility vs. Vulnerability
This leads to the idea of visibility vs. vulnerability. We want to burn bright and shine (be visible) and yet hide our flaws and weaknesses (vulnerability).
I see social media and self-promotion this way. It’s a beacon of hope and yet fake and icky. What I find icky is the highlight reel of successes shown and not the vulnerable and boring parts of ourselves. Who needs to know that I spent the weekend organising my sock drawer, after all?
Social media isn’t bad. Visibility isn’t a green light of approval and I don’t have to always be “on” for others to notice me. It’s about how I use my voice, and social media to fit my wants and needs (not being swept away in the noise). Because there are inspiring people using social media to highlight issues that are bigger than them. If I got over myself and played big —putting attention on others then there is no need to be self-conscious.
Perfectionism and Britishness: Do I offend you?
The reason why I resonated with the girl in the writing circle is that I also hide my work yet secretly long to share it. When we share our vulnerabilities we connect with others who also have scared parts of themselves they’re working through.
This morning I wrote, “Believe in my words: that they have value and meaning” because they do. Writing is an evolutionary process of discovery as we discard the broken pieces and look for the gems of ideas that we’ll keep and share.
Perfectionism often stops me from writing my book on motherhood as my inner critic asks, “Am I good enough?” “Hasn’t it all been said?” “What will I add to the conversation?” Also, the British need to not offend anyone runs in the background of my mind — ”If I say what I think, maybe others will be offended.”
And yet I’m starting to challenge this need of politeness for the sake of blind obedience. I hide my true self because it’s uncomfortable to stand up, take up space and be visible. It’s not about shouting my desires from a loudspeaker, it’s about connecting to why I want to share my work and my voice. If I took up more space I’d stretch into unknown areas and evolve in unexpected ways.
This new, bold, authentic writer/mother/entrepreneur would be an inspiration to my son, family and wider community. If we hid less and shared our light — we’d give a permission slip to others to do the same. Together, we’d create brighter spaces for everyone to be their true, weird and wonderful selves.