Authenticity is a currency of celebrity. It is the precious commodity that reality TV, internet tabloids, and teenage YouTubers know we pine after, and these entities most grotesquely identified how to profit from this. As with every craving, consuming the details of others’ vulnerable moments has a basis in constructive human behavior – the desire for relational intimacy, especially with our role models. Also as with every craving, we often overindulge. The content consumer forfeits too much of their attention. The content creator forfeits too much of their identity, forgetting the precious value of vulnerability. In this equation, the content creator is at greater risk.
Sharing authentically (honestly, without pretense or pretending) or vulnerably (sharing deep personal truths) is cathartic. It feels like pulling off a Band-Aid: though you take out painful hairs in the process, the wound can finally scab and heal in the open. It indulges our sense of self.
Truly, we need to open ourselves to become well-adjusted adults. Yet historically, we confided in a trusted circle of confidants. Now, we all have access to a potential mass audience of millions willing to trade their attention for witnessing our acts of vulnerability. Psychologically, these must not be equivalent.
It still requires great courage to air yourself before others but strangely, less so before a larger audience of strangers than a smaller circle of friends. The logistics of marketing yourself for a mass audience is but a minor task, and then the attention flows in. A reward for a courageous risk.
Our pride scales with each click and consumer. If you can see the numbers, it becomes a video game. Quantitative praise fills a void of relational love inside. The numbers, however, are a poor substitute for the human touch. We know this at some level but still try.
What a sad story, right? This is largely my personal observation of the phenomenon of celebrity isolation, but it’s also based on a teenage YouTuber who shared her story. In a February 5, 2023 New York Times article, Elle Mills wrote about her disenchantment with the life of a teen YouTube star.
YouTube, Mills commented, rewarded transparency and vulnerability, especially about personal struggles. The incentive structure of YouTube is a game, and Elle learned to play the game well – too well for her own good. This line in Elle’s piece got me: “We place such a high value on visibility, so isn’t it only natural to feel as if our vulnerability is the price to pay to be validated?” Read that again: “We place such a high value on visibility, so isn’t it only natural to feel as if our vulnerability is the price to pay to be validated?” Being visibly vulnerable creates attention; attention produces validation; validation generates income.
I wanted to reflect on this theme as I built my blog. Obviously, the blog has a miniscule audience on the gigantic internet (is anyone reading this?), but I had never before shared my writing in a public setting. I had 4 reasons for this. I cringe at others’ hypothetical disapproval (being on trail eliminates this). I have little time to produce much writing (being on trail also helps). I see no need to share details of myself with a largely anonymous internet audience. And stories like Elle’s made me wonder if sharing would end up being really about seeking attention, which leads down a dark path. Would I make a blog for the right reasons?
Why did I decided to change and share now? Again, four answers. The first: writing is a major motivator of my trail journey. Writing allows me to express myself, to delve deeper into the world’s tangled complexity and attempt to straighten a few threads. The wilderness (plus my trusty bluetooth keyboard) facilitates the flow of creative juices.
Second, I love reading others’ writing. Whenever David Wallace-Wells releases an article on New York Times, for example, it sends me a little jolt of excitement. I read it and feel like I learned something. I honestly do not care whether others feel the same way about my writing or not. As an expression of gratitude for how I have benefitted from others’ writing, I want to share my own.
Third, various friends and family members asked me to share. Not everyone will hike the Appalachian Trail, but we can live vicariously through others’ adventures. I will never climb Everest, for example, but I felt a bit of the thrill of it reading Krakauer’s Into This Air.
Fourth, I find myself amidst an early career change, shifting from a research-oriented to a communication-focused skill set. Thus it is advantageous to build a portfolio. Moreover, since we learn by doing, I need practice.
These are all good reasons. I recognize however, they can be corrupted by attention-seeking. I write this piece to affirm to myself that blog has no object of attracting attention nor do I care whether anyone likes or dislikes it. What I share I intend as a gift. I commit to putting myself out there but never looking at the numbers and making vulnerability into a wicked game.
Honestly, I may not be fully transparent or authentic here either. I think vulnerability is valuable enough that it ought to be shared with a trusted few. Everyone knowing everything about you isn’t authenticity; it’s creepy.
Hi Nate,
In case you were wondering, I do read your posts. 😉
I was reflecting on Matthew 7:6 just yesterday – “Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.”
There’s a theme in the Bible that spiritual growth happens mainly in isolation, or perhaps in a small group of trusted friends. For example, Jesus frequently separated from the crowds to spend time alone in prayer. He spoke to the crowd in parables, while the interpretations were given only to his disciples. And his most intimate moments, such as his transfiguration, were shared only with his inner circle – Peter, James, and John.
So I think the main risk of oversharing is that you tie yourself to a particular identity and prevent any future growth. As Elle Woods says in her article, “It had begun to feel as if I was playing a version of myself I’d outgrown. I was entering adulthood and trying to live my childhood dream, but now, to be ‘authentic,’ I had to be the product I had long been posting online, as opposed to the person I was growing up to be.”
Our trusted friends will celebrate with us when we overcome our struggles and can honestly say that we’re no longer the people we used to be. The world at large would rather our struggles continue, so that they can continue to be entertained by lurid details.
If someone does feel called to share their vulnerabilities publicly, they should follow Paul’s example. He boasted in his weaknesses, even referring to himself as the worst of all sinners (2 Cor 12:9, 1 Tim 1:15). But his goal was to highlight God’s power in his life, never to draw attention to himself.
I hope you enjoy the time and space to reflect during your trail journey. And I appreciate your writing, even if it’s never the whole story.
Best,
Timothy
Lovely thoughts, Tim. Matthew 7:6 is a great reference here, and I agree with the point you make about oversharing hindering growth. I feel like this is an article I’ll rewrite every few years as my perspective develops, and you offer a wise perspective here that might enter future iterations.
Nate!
I love reading what you write!
I appreciate what you shared about the process of sharing your thoughts with an audience, and the natural tensions that arise in that process. There ARE some very bizarre implications of that in our moment of history.
Thanks for courageously sharing your writing with us as you’re honing your craft.