Exploring What’s Authentic

For years, I worked as a health education trainer for city government. I did a pretty decent job supporting the health of young people. I advocated for best practices, knew how to represent the institution’s values clearly, and how to write and speak in ways that stayed polished and aligned with policy. In a job with such a wide reach, that felt like a powerful skill—single initiatives could impact tens of thousands of students.

But somewhere along the way, I realized I was losing track of my own voice. I could tell you the “official” perspective on an issue, but if you asked me what I thought, I’d have to pause. Sometimes I didn't know how to say what I thought in a way that felt honest. Other times I would feel such a wash of emotions about some of the hot topics of our field that I struggled to tease apart my thoughts from my feelings and convictions. Overall, I was feeling less like myself and more like a tool of the system, which is when I knew something needed to change.

I went off on my own as a freelance health and sex educator. This had been a dream of mine for most of my adult life, so it was a move towards my inner drive to be able to work from classroom to policy. I wanted to be able to work on multiple levels at the same time, which is rarely possible in jobs that typically focus on one strata of the work.

Since starting out on my own, I’ve been asking myself: What does it mean to show up authentically? Not just competently. Not just aligned with what others expect. But in a way that feels rooted in my own truth.

I don’t have a neat answer. Some days, authenticity feels like saying what I really think, even if it risks pushback. Other days, it’s simply noticing when I’m holding back and asking myself why. Sometimes it’s as small as writing for myself before writing for others—remembering that my voice matters, even if no one else sees it.

For me, authenticity isn’t about being bold all the time. It’s about staying connected to my own perspective, my own values, my own spark—even while navigating roles, responsibilities, and relationships. It’s not a destination; it’s an ongoing practice.

And I wonder—what does authenticity look like for you right now? Is there a place where you feel yourself adjusting, blending, or losing track of what you think? What might it look like to explore that—not with judgment, but with curiosity?

That’s the experiment I’m in: practicing authenticity, noticing when I stray from it, and trusting that even in uncertainty, something important is unfolding.