The Truth Of One

Glimmer

I’m working at my favorite table on the outdoor patio of a coffee shop.

A gentle breeze ruffles my hair, carrying with it the scent of bagels and asphalt, and the occasional delicate chatter of conversation.

The tiny cafe is located on one of the quieter streets in New York, a city usually rattling with the cacophony of sirens, people, and life.

It’s the city where I feel most at home.

I take a sip of coffee and consider my options for this week’s newsletter.

I want to write about authenticity, about the importance of not betraying yourself.

Ideas percolate but I dismiss most of them.

It’s a massive topic, too broad to cover thoroughly in one weekly newsletter.

Perhaps approaching it from the angle of my experience in corporate marketing leadership…

No. I also want the content to be useful for readers at the start of their journey, those that have yet to take the leap into creating or starting their business because fear has paralyzed them.

My phone pings with a message from a client, sparking another idea.

Maybe sharing tips on how to be authentic in content marketing…

No. The idea of writing a bland, how-to post nauseates me.

The irony of the blank page taunts me.

How do I write an essay on authenticity when I’m overthinking how to be authentic?

Another breeze wafts through the cafe, bringing with it a shift in energy.

A group of children make their way past me on the sidewalk. The tiny kindergarteners wear bright orange safety vests and carefully hold each other’s hands while their teachers shepherd them along.

They meander a bit, tottering in the way kids do when they haven’t quite mastered balance yet. Taking up the width of the sidewalk, the group forces fast-walking New Yorkers to swerve around them.

They expand with each step, a string of bright orange flowing over concrete.

In comparison, my space diminishes.The tables around me remain empty, yet I’m acutely aware of my position: hunched over the laptop, shoulders raised, body curled in tight, fiercely glaring at the screen.

Near the front of the line, a little girl with hair neatly tied back in a ponytail watches me, wide eyes filled with bold curiosity.

When I look at her, she gives me a toothy smile and waves.

Surprised, I automatically smile and wave back.

A chain reaction starts down the line.

One by one, the other children wave their hands at me, yelling “Hi” in a chaotic collection of boisterous voices.

This time, the wind carries both the sound of my laughter and the children’s giggles down the Manhattan street.

An unexpected moment of beauty on a Monday morning.

The innocence of their smiles reminds me of something I had forgotten in myself, a time when I ran recklessly in the backyard, climbing trees, and playing with neighborhood kids while my younger brother desperately tried to keep up.

It’s been a long time since I thought of the girl I was at her age, of the fearlessness and honest joy that came simply from living and breathing.

A long time since I recalled that period of life when each day was a grand adventure and the purity of who we were shone with such brilliance.

I return to the blank page.

Perhaps that is authenticity: a startling moment when connection provides insight into our own selves.

Fragments

Recent studies have demonstrated that ​authentic self-expression on social media is associated with greater well-being​.

Yet despite the increasing number of ways and opportunities to freely express our individuality, many still struggle to do so.

The Internet and social media have widened our spheres for meeting and interacting with others globally in ways previously unimaginable.

But technology serves as a reflection of humanity, not as its driving impetus. A machine’s output will always be contingent upon human input.

Many of the challenges online, therefore, are amplifications of our reality.

Polarizing social and political dynamics, mass judgment and criticism without nuance, echo chambers of homogenized opinions, proliferation of disinformation, and the prevalence of social comparison are all magnified examples of human nature.

Being authentic in real life is difficult enough; being authentic in a space that intensifies terrible human traits presents an even greater obstacle.

The ​innate human desire to belong​ conversely means we possess a fundamental fear of judgment and social scrutiny.

Fear drives behavior. The exposure to potential criticism on a global stage often leads individuals and brands to stifle genuine expression in favor of a crafted, curated online persona. Shame and anxiety condition us to suppress vulnerability in the name of self-protection.

In addition, the increasingly blurred boundaries between professional, personal, and private spaces have exacerbated the difficulties of authenticity, often resulting in a form of self-censorship.

This fuels two important reasons why individuals and brands struggle to build a solid platform presence.

First, the lack of groundedness and the exhaustion from performing result in overall inconsistency and unsustainability.

Second, boredom arises from the monotony and constraint of solely focusing on one singular topic (the dreaded niche).

Business has always been human.

It doesn’t matter whether the business is a solopreneur or a global conglomerate.

When we remove authentic humanness from the equation, business fails.

Prism

Brand strategy embodies an intangible concept, one that many struggle to understand. I’ve led and participated in countless discourse about whether branding was tactical or strategic, how we define it, and why it is necessary.

Ultimately, brand is identity.

Identity, however, is complex. It’s not just an aesthetic combination of colors, fonts, cute taglines, and sleek websites. It can’t be templatized or measured in digital growth marketing or sales.

A good example would be to consider your own self. Human identity is neither measurable nor a simple composition of one or two facets; instead, it is an evolving, nuanced presence far deeper and broader than what appears on the surface.

An identity is a mosaic of stories and experiences, of values, vision, purpose, and passions – an amalgamation representing how we’d like to move through life and contribute to the world.

Like identity, brand is the subconscious way in which we both perceive ourselves and others perceive us.

Identity requires truth and honesty. Carving a space in the world for our brand necessitates authenticity.

Here is how that translates into business development:

1) Authenticity starts with you

Whether you’re a solopreneur or in charge of a team of hundreds, self-understanding is a critical component of leadership.

In my work as a marketing and advisory consultant, I identified poor leadership as the largest issue plaguing businesses. When leaders are inauthentic, the consequences trickle throughout the entire culture.

The work of authenticity means:

• A commitment to self-honesty and self-acceptance.
• Confronting ourselves and addressing lingering issues, pains, and triggers
• Transparent communication
• Active listening and empathy
• Giving trust and respect first in order to receive them

Personal authenticity manifests in brand authenticity.

Without understanding the foundations and core of who we are, it will be near impossible to understand the dynamic interplay of brand and audience.

Authenticity for brands means establishing voice, positioning, values, purpose, vision and a mission that serve as both foundation and framework.

A brand’s greater commitment is to clarify and communicate who it stands for, what it values, why it exists, and how it wants to enhance the world.

2) Community

Authenticity inspires both trust and empathy. Sharing our truth allows others to resonate and align with us on a human level. Compelling, honest narratives draw people in because they recognize their own reflections.

The natural reaction of empathy is support. Humans want to help others, especially if they see themselves within someone’s journey. This is an extension of our psychological need to belong – we want to be part of something that aligns with our own identity.

The growth of community produces two powerful results for brands.

Internally, community means the development of a strong, cohesive culture that understands and is aligned with business vision and objectives. Ask any leader: a team genuinely invested in future growth and success is priceless.

Externally, a strong community represents brand loyalty and therefore, a team of brand evangelists. People who identify and align themselves with a brand’s story and values feel seen. This in turn inspires them to bring others into the fold by sharing experiences and spreading the word.

3) Expansion

A solid support system like a community means having a built-in accelerator for growth. Not only do they provide stability during difficult periods, but also constant feedback on what to improve.

This represents the symbiotic relationship between brand and audience. Brands evolve to meet the changing needs of their audience as they grow together.

Communities serve as intrinsic idea incubators, bringing new problems to light that require new solutions. These possibilities give birth to opportunities for scaling our businesses in ways we may never have previously considered.

Business is human.

What started out as one – the accountability and truth of self – transforms into more.

Remembrance

Two days have passed since the girl in the bright orange vest.

In midtown, I’ve finished up my workout. After a quick shower, I apply fresh makeup, fix my hair, and dress appropriately for a meeting downtown.

Satisfied with my armor for re-entering one of the most driven cities in the world, I step into the gym lobby ready to take on the day.

Instead, I’m greeted by a thunderstorm, the kind of sudden heated downpour that only happens during a New York summer.

Rain sloshes against the windows, leaving long streaks in its wake.

Irritated, I huddle by the glass door in the gloom of the overcast sky. I’d forgotten my umbrella (again) which meant I had to wait.

A few minutes pass.

Several others from the gym leave, impatiently glaring up at the sky for a minute before dashing out into the rain.

I continue waiting inside.

A movement at the corner of the building catches my eye.

An older gentleman leisurely strolls down the street, seemingly oblivious to the rain pouring down around him. Water beads on his skin and face and his soaked black shirt clings to his torso.

He opens the door, steps through, and holds it for me.

I shake my head, wanting to wait until I could be certain I’d stay dry. Composed. Mask and armor in place.

“It’s just a little water.” His warm, resonant voice vibrates with the rain’s rhythm.

“I don’t want to get wet.”

He tilts his head, the disarming gesture reminding me of a little girl with a neat ponytail, a toothy smile, and a bright orange vest.

“What are you afraid of?” He opens the door a little wider. “Come on. I ain’t got all day.”

A memory flashes before me.

A sudden downpour just like this at another time, in another place.

Our class dashing back to the building from the school playground, all of us soaked to the bone while the air trembled with the delighted yells and giddy laughter of six-year-olds.

No. We don’t have all day.

Smiling, I duck under his arm and run into the rain.

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