When “being authentic” becomes a performance

Note for readers: This week's English mood piece is not a translation of the French one — and that’s intentional. The original French billet tackled the absurdity of corporate franglais, a subject that simply doesn’t translate well without losing its texture and irony. Instead, I wrote this companion piece on a related theme: the illusion of authenticity in modern professional communication. Different language, same blurry lines between truth and performance.

This is fiction. But you’ve probably seen it before. On LinkedIn. On stage. In a podcast. A modern ritual, half confession, half pitch. A carefully lit display of rawness that somehow smells like brand strategy.

🚨 Vulnerability porn alert 🚨

“Hey fam 👋 Just wanted to share something real today. Last month, I hit rock bottom. Burned out. Alone. Questioning everything. But here’s what I learned from that pain 👇”

🔹 Lesson 1: You are enough

🔹 Lesson 2: Boundaries are not selfish

🔹 Lesson 3: Your struggle is your superpower

🎯 Remember: be real, stay raw, and monetize your wounds.

#AuthenticityIsAVibe #HustleAndHeal #CryThenFly

This isn’t vulnerability. It’s theatre — carefully scripted, emotionally lit, and optimized for engagement. The stage lights have changed, that’s all. We’ve swapped the suit for the sob story, the elevator pitch for the personal breakthrough. We’ve moved from “fake it till you make it” to “break down till you blow up.” Perfection was yesterday’s aspiration; today, it’s imperfection repackaged as influence. Vulnerability isn't just shared, it’s stylized. Managed. Marketed.

Being “authentic” is the new suit-and-tie. You just swap spreadsheets for scars, slide decks for self-doubt, and KPIs for childhood trauma turned into personal growth frameworks. The performance? Slicker than ever, now with soft lighting, minimalist fonts, and just enough trembling in the voice to feel "raw." What used to be a moment of truth shared in confidence has become a stage-managed rite of passage, where every tear has its CTA, and every confession its conversion rate.

What was once a human experience is now a brand voice. Crying on camera? Courageous. Pausing your startup for mental health? Visionary. Sharing your grief as a LinkedIn carousel? Bold thought leadership. But only if it’s well-lit, well-edited, and hashtagged just right.

We’re not rejecting the mask. We’re just changing costumes.

Because if you’re “authentic” on cue, to build “trust at scale,” are you still being real — or just rehearsing another version of yourself?

So here’s the real question: Can we still feel something true without broadcasting it? Can we suffer, heal, grow... without making it content? Or are we forever stuck in the loop of “I hurt, therefore I post”?

To be continued — maybe. Off-camera.