‘Being Yourself’ Has Become Just Another Performance

Imagine walking through New York City, invisible. Marilyn Monroe, one of the most recognizable women in the world, once did exactly that. Without her platinum curls, breathy voice, and signature allure, she moved through the crowded streets unnoticed. Then, as if sensing the anonymity around her, she turned to her friend Amy Greene, the wife of Monroe’s personal photographer Milton Greene, and asked, “Do you want to see me become her?”

Before Greene could respond, Monroe straightened her spine, rolled her shoulders back, and tilted her chin just so. Her lips parted into that luminous, practiced smile. Her eyes softened, filling with an impossible kind of knowing. She flicked her hair in just the right way. And then, like a spell being cast, it happened.

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Heads snapped in her direction. People gasped.

“Oh my God—it’s her!”

It was as if she had flipped a switch, conjuring the most famous woman on earth out of thin air. Because she had. Monroe wasn’t something she was, it was something she became. For years, she had perfected the art of transformation, stepping into the woman the world expected her to be.

By the time Monroe wanted to reclaim herself, the world no longer wanted to know who she really was. They only wanted Marilyn. In her private writings, she confessed, “I am trying to find myself. Sometimes that’s not easy.” Beneath the glamour, she was searching for a self she had long since lost.

Her story is extreme, but her struggle is not unique. Like Marilyn, many of us learn to shape ourselves into what the world expects. Refining, editing, and performing until the act feels like the only version of us that belongs. Today, even authenticity is something we curate, measured not by honesty but by how well it aligns with what’s acceptable. The pressure to perform the right kind of realness has seeped into every aspect of modern life.

We have turned authenticity into a brand

Authenticity was supposed to set us free. Instead, it has become something we must constantly prove. In a culture obsessed with being “real,” we curate our imperfections, filter our vulnerabilities, and even stage our most spontaneous moments online.

Sociologist Erving Goffman saw this coming decades ago. In The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, he argued that all social interaction is a kind of performance. But while Goffman described the everyday social masks we wear, he never could have predicted a world where people spend hours curating their personas for an invisible audience of thousands.

Instead of naturally shifting between different social roles, we now manage a single, optimized identity across multiple audiences—our family, coworkers, old friends, and strangers online. The bigger, paradoxical problem is, however, that the more we strive to be real, the more we perform; and in proving our authenticity, we lose sight of who we truly are.

In a world where every interaction has the potential to be recorded, scrutinized, or reshared, authenticity has become less about who we are and more about how we are perceived.  This constant self-monitoring reshapes how we interact, making conversations less about genuine connection and more about managing perceptions. Instead of engaging fully, we calculate how we’ll be received, prioritizing a polished image over real expression. It’s unsurprising then that we’re becoming experts in the art of approval, but amateurs in the ability to relate.

Why we become the roles we play

Think back to childhood. At some point, you probably realized that certain behaviors made people like you more. Maybe you got extra praise for being responsible, so you leaned into that. Maybe you learned that cracking jokes made you popular, so you became the funny one. Or perhaps showing too much emotion made people uncomfortable, so you were called sensitive and learned to keep things inside.

Read More: Why Being Sensitive Is a Strength

At first, these adjustments are just small tweaks; tiny shifts in how we present ourselves to fit in. But over time, they harden into something bigger: a version of ourselves that feels less like a choice and more like a requirement.

Psychologists call this the “False Self”—a version of you that develops to meet external expectations. British psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott first introduced this idea, arguing that when people feel like their true feelings or behaviors won’t be accepted, they create a safer, more socially approved version of themselves instead.

This gets embedded more and more through a brain process called cognitive dissonance. Our brains don’t like contradiction and so if we act a certain way for long enough, we start convincing ourselves this must be who I really am. If you’ve been the “overachiever” your whole life, it’s hard to imagine who you’d be without that label. If you’re always “the strong one,” being vulnerable can feel unnatural even if it’s what you truly need.

And then comes the reinforcement. Neuroscience shows that social approval actually rewires our brains. One study found that when people received a lot of likes on social media, their ventral striatum lit up—the same brain region linked to rewards like food and money. That means every time we get validation for a version of ourselves, our brains learn: Do more of this.

Work wants you to be authentic—as long as it’s the right kind

This tension plays out not just online or in social settings, but in our professional lives as well. Companies encourage employees to “bring their whole selves to work,” yet the reality is far more complicated. Research by Deloitte shows that 60% of U.S. workers feel they must “cover” aspects of their identity to fit in at work. Employees who challenge workplace norms, voice unpopular opinions, or disrupt the status quo often face career stagnation. Research suggests that those who stray too far from corporate culture may receive lower performance evaluations or be seen as “difficult.” In other words, authenticity is welcome—as long as it’s the right kind of authenticity.

The result? We unconsciously shape ourselves around what gets the most approval in work and life. The more we perform a certain identity, the more it feels like the only identity we have. And that’s where the real cost comes in. Studies show that low self-concept clarity—when individuals lack a clear and stable understanding of themselves—is linked to various negative psychological outcomes like higher levels of anxiety, depression and loneliness as well as less satisfying relationships.

How to stop performing and start existing

The problem isn’t that we don’t know how to be real; it’s that we’ve been conditioned to edit, rehearse, and optimize ourselves at all times; and we’ve internalized the belief that acceptance comes from constant refinement. So, breaking free isn’t about finding yourself—it’s about disrupting the habits that keep you performing.

Start by disrupting small habits that keep you performing—send an email without rereading, post a photo without editing. Challenge your self-concept by stepping outside your usual role. If you’re always the responsible one, take a risk; if you’re the entertainer, embrace silence. It’s not about rebellion or neglect—it’s about letting go of the need to perfect and just being.

Read More: Why Intentional Discomfort Is Actually Good For You

Beyond habits, breaking the False Self means severing the need for constant validation. Try radical honesty for a day. Say what you actually think instead of what’s expected. Be bad at something on purpose; sing off-key, write a terrible poem, do something you know you’ll fail at. The point isn’t improvement, but realizing you don’t need to be “good” to enjoy something. Most importantly, stop justifying yourself; make choices without explaining them. Say no without an excuse. Change your mind without defending it. The less you seek approval, the more you can exist without performance.

Why authenticity feels impossible

Authenticity isn’t something you achieve. It’s what’s left when you stop trying. Yet, the more we chase it, the more elusive it becomes.

But this isn’t just a personal struggle; it’s a system we’ve been conditioned into. We don’t shape our identities in isolation; we shape them in a world that rewards performance over presence. Social media thrives on curation, workplaces reward conformity, and the pressure to optimize—our bodies, our careers, even our personalities—is embedded into everyday life.

We can’t rewrite the system overnight, but we can disrupt it. Every time we stop filtering, stop curating, and stop justifying, we make space for others to do the same. Culture shifts when enough people decide to show up as they are.

The goal isn’t to prove your authenticity to others; it’s to find it in yourself once again. It’s to ask yourself the question: Who am I, when no one is watching?

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