Have you ever been in a meeting where you were nervous but pretending not to be? Most of us have. I’ve been in this situation many times in my life and career, and a memorable one for me was a meeting I had with my publisher about a decade ago. My first book, Focus on the Good Stuff, had come out the previous year. My publisher for that book was Jossey-Bass, a San Francisco–based imprint of a large publishing company called John Wiley & Sons, located in Hoboken, New Jersey (right outside of New York City).
I was scheduled to meet with them in the San Francisco office to pitch an idea for what I was hoping would be my second book, this one on authenticity. I was both excited and nervous, but I felt pretty comfortable because my understanding was that the meeting would be with Alan, my editor for my first book, and a few of the members of his team with whom I’d previously worked.
When we got into the conference room, Alan said, “Mike we’re going to wait a few minutes before we start the meeting.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because Debra’s coming to the meeting,” Alan said.
Debra, the president of Jossey-Bass, was someone I’d not yet met.
“And,” Alan added, “her boss from Wiley flew in from New York to hear your pitch.”
“Oh, great!” I said.
Except that’s not actually what I was thinking. Dude you’re going to screw this up. You should’ve prepared more. Don’t blow it.
But since I’m pretty good at pretending I’m not nervous when I really am, I just smiled and acted confident.
A few minutes later, Debra and her boss walked into the room. They were quite warm and friendly, and not all that intimidating, but given who they were and the positions they held, I was now a nervous wreck.
“Mike, why don’t you tell us about your new book idea?” Debra asked.
I launched into my pitch. Usually in meetings like this, I’m most nervous at the beginning, but once I get into it my anxiety diminishes. This time, that wasn’t happening. In fact, the more I talked, the worse it got. While I wasn’t forgetting what I wanted to say or making a complete fool out of myself, I felt my fear level going up, and found that I was pushing really hard emotionally, trying to impress them. After a few minutes, I couldn’t stand it, so I just stopped.
I looked right at Debra and said, “I know I mentioned this a few minutes ago when you came into the room, but it’s really an honor to meet you and I appreciate you coming to this meeting.” I turned to her boss. “And you flew all the way out here from New York to hear my pitch.” Then I added, “I notice that I’m feeling really nervous and I’m trying hard to impress you. Can I stop doing that now and just be myself?”
As this last comment came out of my mouth, the voice in my head shouted, Don’t say that out loud! What’s the matter with you?
There was a long, awkward pause. The looks on people’s faces around that table seemed to be asking, Did he really just say that out loud? Then something interesting happened: Debra laughed, as did her boss and everyone else in the room.
I laughed too, took a deep breath and said, “Here’s what I know about authenticity: it’s important. It’s important to me and just about everybody I know. It’s important in all types of relationships. It’s important to the organizations I work with, and to their leaders and teams. It’s important in most areas of business and life. And authenticity is challenging. It’s much easier to say I want to be authentic than it is to actually operate authentically. I want to write a book about that. Why is it so difficult? What can we do to make it a little easier?”
At that moment I stopped “pitching” my book idea, and we just had a conversation. We talked about some of the things that make authenticity challenging for me, for them, in business, for their company, in relationships, for my clients, in our society, and in life in general. It was a fascinating discussion, and I left the meeting feeling excited, but still nervous for different reasons. I really wanted them to publish this book. Alan told me he would give me a call as I left, but didn’t give me any specific indication of their level of interest.
As I drove home, I began to second-guess myself. Maybe I should’ve talked more about the specific content of the book, or the marketing and promotion plan. Maybe I shared too much and was too transparent about my feelings and insecurities. I wonder if I came across as credible and if they’re going want to work with me on this project? When are they going to call me and let me know?
Late that afternoon I got a call from Alan. He said, “Mike, I wanted to get back to you by the end of the day and let you know that we’d like to publish your book. After you left, we talked about you. We all agreed that was one of the strangest pitch meetings we’d ever been in, but we appreciated your openness and candor. We’re excited to work with you on this project.”
I learned something very important that day, and I’ve learned a lot over the last decade through my study and teaching of authenticity. The specific lesson of that day for me was the importance of being real, even when I’m in a high-stakes situation where the outcome matters. I’ve spent a lot of my life doing my best to be prepared, especially for big moments like that. But sometimes in life and in business, as important as it is to be prepared, it’s even more important to be present and show up fully in the moment.
What I then learned as I researched and wrote that book (Be Yourself, Everyone Else Is Already Taken) and as I’ve more deeply explored this topic in my work and life over the past decade, is that authenticity, particularly in the workplace, can be incredibly challenging and complex, but it’s essential to many aspects of success, trust, leadership, credibility, business culture, and more.
In this chapter, which is the first and foundational principle of bringing our whole selves to work, I’m excited to share some of the key ideas I’ve learned about authenticity since writing and publishing that book back in 2009, and some of the latest research that points to the importance of authenticity to the success of individuals, leaders, teams, and organizations.
In a 2016 article for the Harvard Business Review, researchers James Detert from the University of Virginia’s Darden School of Business and Ethan Burris from the McCombs School of Business at the University of Texas at Austin wrote:
In a number of studies we’ve found that when employees can voice their concerns freely, organizations see increased retention and stronger performance. At several financial services firms, for example, business units whose employees reported speaking up more had significantly better financial and operational results than others. And at one national restaurant chain, managers were able to persuade senior leaders to make improvements that reduced employee turnover by 32 percent and saved at least $1.6 million a year.
In study after study, we see data that shows the connection between authenticity and job satisfaction, engagement, and performance. However, for us to more fully utilize the power of authenticity at work for ourselves, and to enhance the environment of authenticity in which we work, it’s important for us to understand and embody it at a deeper level.
The Authenticity Continuum
When I’m speaking about the core principles of authenticity, one of the first questions I often ask the audience is, “What does authenticity mean to you?” I usually have people pair up and discuss this with a partner, and then we talk about it. Some of the answers I hear are “honesty,” “integrity,” “transparency,” “realness,” “originality,” and “truthfulness.” All these words, and others like them, are aspects of authenticity, for sure. But I think we sometimes have a misunderstanding of what authenticity actually means, especially at work.
Some years ago I delivered a keynote speech on the power of authenticity, and right as I walked offstage a man came up to me, got right in my face, and said, “I’m authentic. I’m authentic all the time!” He seemed upset.
So I asked him, “What’s the problem?”
“Well,” he said, “I’ve lost some jobs because of this.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah. Not everyone can handle it.”
I didn’t know him, but I was getting a pretty strong sense of his personality in that moment. I’m not quite sure what prompted me to ask him this somewhat provocative question, but I did: “Now tell me the truth, is it ‘authentic’ or ‘obnoxious’?”
He was a bit taken aback by my question.
I myself was surprised I’d asked this—it just kind of flew out of my mouth. Wow, I really just said that?
After a moment of shock, his face softened and he laughed. Given his intense personality and directness, I think he appreciated my quick response and comeback. He then said, somewhat sheepishly, “Well, maybe a little bit of both.”
“I appreciate your honesty and self-awareness,” I said. “I don’t know for sure, but if I had to guess, I bet it was the ‘obnoxious’ that got you fired, not the ‘authentic’.”
He laughed, nodded, and walked away with a look on his face that said, You know what, that’s probably true.
Authenticity is about being real, not “right.” It’s also not about always “speaking our mind” or “telling people how it is.” It has more complexity, depth, and nuance.
Authenticity is not a static thing; rather, it exists on a continuum. And it’s an in-the-moment phenomenon. As my mentor and counselor, Eleanor, likes to remind me, “Mike, the truth can’t be rehearsed.” Understanding this Authenticity Continuum and where we find ourselves on it in any given moment is essential to our ability to be more authentic ourselves, and to influence the authenticity of others and the environments in which we work.
There are three main aspects of the Authenticity Continuum—Phony, Honest, and Authentic:
Phony_________Honest_________Authentic
Phony
We all know what it’s like to listen to, watch, or interact with someone who is being phony or inauthentic. It can be off-putting, frustrating, and even disrespectful. We don’t like it, and as a culture we love to point fingers at and judge people who are being phony. We do this with politicians, celebrities, business leaders, and people in our own lives. We can understandably be skeptical of the people around us and in the world, sometimes questioning the authenticity of those we communicate, interact, and work with. Most of us have been lied to or deceived by people we believed in. This can create a certain level of mistrust and even cynicism within us and around us. This skepticism is stronger for some of us than others, and in some situations and relationships, based on a variety of factors, personality traits, and past experiences, among other things.
But given what we’re looking at here in this chapter and this book, the best place for us to inquire into phoniness is within ourselves. While it may be fairly easy to point out the phoniness in others, looking at it within ourselves can be a bit more challenging. Where, when, with whom, and in what situations do you find yourself being phony? It’s usually not malicious. It’s not like we wake up in the morning and say to ourselves, You know what I’m going to do today? I’m going to lie and manipulate people. No, it’s much subtler than that. And, in most cases when we find ourselves being inauthentic, we’re either unconscious of it or we justify and rationalize it.
Here are a few common situations in which we might find ourselves being phony:
Social or cultural norms. There are many things we do and say simply because the people around us do them and say them. For example, what’s the first question that we often ask when we greet each other? “How are you?” Or, “How’s it going?” Or some other version of that question. And what’s the usual response? “Fine,” “Good,” “Awesome,” or something like that. It’s usually some simple, one-word answer (mostly positive), and then we ask in return, “And how are you?” To which the response is, again, one of those positive one-word answers.
This, however, is an inauthentic interaction most of the time. It’s friendly, sure, but it’s also often phony.
Here’s how you know. Have you ever asked that question as a greeting and someone answered honestly by letting you know that things weren’t going well for them? It can catch us off guard. It’s not that we don’t care how they are—we just don’t usually mean it when we ask, because it’s merely a way of saying hello in our culture. On the other side of the interaction, responding by saying we’re “fine” or “good” usually doesn’t come anywhere close to encapsulating how we’re truly feeling in that moment. We often respond that way just because it’s easier and it’s what’s expected. These are the rules of this simple social norm, and we tend to play by these rules.
How many other things do we do or say at work or in life simply because that’s the social norm? While these things are usually benign, they show up a lot at work, and being more aware of them can help us and those around us not fall into the unconscious trap of allowing these norms to dictate how we interact, communicate, and show up.
When we don’t know or understand something. Do you ever find yourself in a conversation or meeting where you have no idea what someone’s talking about but you pretend that you do because you don’t want to seem like an idiot? I catch myself doing this from time to time. Typically we can get away with this without people knowing. But it can cause us stress and unnecessary pressure. What if we had more courage and the confidence to simply admit, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means—could you explain it to me?” In the moment it often seems easier to just pretend and hope it doesn’t become an issue. In addition to doing this in meetings and conversations, we sometimes do it in larger ways in other areas of work and in life—pretending we know, understand, or can do things we can’t (or at least haven’t done yet). Most of us have painted ourselves into a corner by pretending to know or be able to do something we really don’t. Or at the very least, we’ve made it seem like we’ve got it all figured out or taken care of, when in reality we’ve needed a lot of help and guidance.
When we don’t agree with a decision or with the group consensus. This often happens at work with a team we’re a part of, or in other group settings. A discussion is taking place or decisions are being made, but we don’t feel comfortable with the way it’s going although everyone else seems to be onboard. Maybe we want to speak up. Maybe we want to ask questions. Maybe we want to disagree with what’s being said or decided. But in some cases, it may feel too risky to do so. Or we fear we’ll be seen as an outlier or not a team player. So, we go along with what’s being discussed and decided, even though it doesn’t sit well with us. Then we end up frustrated, either with ourselves for not speaking up or with the group for making a bad decision.
Conflicts or difficult conversations. One of the situations in which inauthentic behavior shows up most often in my own life, and in many of my clients’, is when there are conflicts. When we’re faced with a difficult or potentially uncomfortable conversation we need to have with someone, we often try to avoid it, or at least delay it a bit. At some point we can’t put it off any longer. So we finally sit down with the person to give them feedback or to let them know we need to talk to them about something important. In these situations, it’s very common that somewhere between our brain and our mouth things get a little mixed up. The other person might get defensive or say things we weren’t prepared to hear. We might get flustered and, in the middle of the conversation, realize it’s not going well. We then might decide to just stop and somehow figure out a way to get out of the conversation before things get much worse. Then we might walk away feeling uncomfortable, and realize we had only part of the conversation we wanted to have with them. At that point we might be stuck in the difficult position of either pretending to let it go or deciding to go back to the person the next day and say, “Hey, remember that awkward conversation we had yesterday? Yeah, well, there’s more . . .”
Conflicts and conversations like these, while usually uncomfortable, are essential to building trust and creating a healthy and positive work environment. However, most of us don’t like engaging in these types of discussions, and we tend to avoid them or, when we do have them, we find it difficult to be authentic. I often find myself avoiding such conversations, and when I do have them I find it challenging to really speak the truth, and to do so in a way that’s conducive to resolution, connection, and trust, rather than just trying to make my case, win the argument, protect myself, or “make nice” (in an inauthentic way) so the problem “goes away” or “gets better.” Although I’ve gotten better at these conversations over the years, they’re rarely easy for me, even though I know how important they are.
As a mentor of mine said to me years ago, “Mike, you know what stands between you and the kind of relationships you really want to have with people? Probably a ten-minute, sweaty-palmed conversation you’re too afraid to have. If you get good at those ten-minute, sweaty-palmed conversations, you’ll have fantastic relationships—you’ll resolve conflicts, build trust, and be able to work through things. But if you avoid them, as most of us do, because they’re uncomfortable, you’ll simply be a victim of whomever you live with, work with, and interact with in life.”
Acknowledging our phony tendencies and behaviors is essential. We’re not weak, wrong, or bad for operating in inauthentic ways—we’re just human. But if we have enough self-awareness to notice when we’re being phony, we can then make different choices. Authenticity is a choice, and in some cases not an easy one. But when we show up in phony ways and we either aren’t willing to see it or we blame it on other people or the environment, we give away our power. People often say things to me like, “I can’t be authentic with my boss (or my client, or my mother-in-law, etc.),” or “You can’t really be authentic like that here—that’s not how people operate or communicate.” My response is usually, “Listen, I may not know what that person or this environment is like specifically, and I do understand that it can be hard to be authentic—especially with certain people, in certain situations, and at work in general. But the issue isn’t that you can’t, it’s that you won’t. And maybe choosing not to be authentic is what you believe right now to be the best, most self-preserving choice to make. Just own it as a choice.” Seeing and owning our inauthenticity gives us the awareness and sometimes the motivation to move along the continuum toward authenticity.
Honest
Halfway down the Authenticity Continuum we get to honesty. My mom would often say, “Honesty is the best policy.” This simple saying contains a lot of wisdom. But have you ever had a situation in life, particularly at work, where you were honest about something and it caused a problem? Have you ever been honest about something and it hurt someone’s feelings? Have you ever created or escalated a conflict by being honest? Have ever you put your foot in your mouth when your honesty ended up being inappropriate, offensive, or embarrassing? For most of us, the answer to these questions is, “Yes, many times.”
While on the surface honesty seems straightforward, universally encouraged, and positive, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Over the course of our lives, and particularly in our careers, most of us learn how to tactfully “massage” the truth. We end up saying to ourselves, I don’t want to be phony, I want to be honest—but “mostly” honest. I want to be honest in a way that makes me look good, doesn’t get me into trouble, and has the people I work with respect, admire, and trust me. Or as someone shouted out from the audience a few years ago when I was speaking at their department’s all-hands meeting, “You mean like ‘HR honest’”—at which everybody roared in laughter, even some of the HR folks.
We end up spending a lot of time and energy on this side of the Authenticity Continuum, trying to figure out how honest we can be with certain people and in certain situations. Although this makes sense and is how most of us are trained to operate, especially at work, it’s exhausting. Some of us are more comfortable being direct and telling the truth—based on our personality, cultural background, where we grew up, how we were raised, and other factors. Others have a harder time being direct and telling the truth, based on these same factors, on the feedback and experience we’ve had throughout our lives and careers, and on our position and environment at work.
This is where honesty can get confusing. For those of us who do have the courage to be honest, but sometimes get pushback that we’re too abrupt or too direct, and could soften it up a little bit, we tend either to question ourselves or, more often, to dig in and judge the people giving us that feedback or the environment we’re in—thinking they’re “too soft.” For those of us who have a harder time speaking up, telling the truth, and being direct, we tend to have fears and recollections of times we’ve done this and it hasn’t gone well for us, thus justifying our hesitancy to be more forthcoming.
Unfortunately, we think of honesty as this binary black-and-white thing. In some respects this is the case: We’re either telling the truth or we’re not. We’re either showing up honestly or we’re not. And yet honesty does not equal authenticity. It does take real courage, particularly in our professional lives, for some of us to speak up and tell the truth. But the reason why honesty sits just at the midway point on the Authenticity Continuum is that it’s only the entry point into being truly authentic.
Where there’s real freedom and power for us is on the other side of honesty. Yes, we must be honest, which takes courage in and of itself; but in order for us to get to authenticity, we have to remove something from our honesty and add something to it. The thing we have to remove is our self-righteousness. And what we have to add is vulnerability.
Removing Self-Righteousness
Self-righteousness can be a bit tricky for us to fully identify, understand, and own within ourselves. When I’m speaking to a group about this, I often ask these two questions:
Usually most of the hands go up in the audience in response to both of these questions, and there is often some knowing laughter, especially after the second question. Many of us are quite opinionated, which is fine, and some of us are more than happy to share our opinions openly. In today’s world, we have more ways and platforms than ever before to express our opinions, which can be wonderful—but also problematic, for a variety of reasons. But the issue isn’t with our opinions or even our willingness (or lack thereof) to express them; it’s the self-righteousness with which we hold our opinions. When we hold an opinion with self-righteousness, whether or not we express it, we are coming from a place of being right. And if I’m right about something and you don’t agree with me, what does that make you? Wrong. Now we have a problem.
Self-righteousness separates us from others. In certain relationships, situations, and environments, we might be open and honest enough with other people to let them know directly that we think they’re wrong. We might be able to say straight to their face something like, “I think that’s a bad idea, I totally disagree with you, and I think it’s wrong.” More often than not, however, and especially at work, we bite our tongue in such situations, or say something ambiguous that doesn’t agree or disagree. We may say, “Thanks for your input and feedback; I’ll take that into consideration.” And then we might leave the room, find someone we agree with, and say, “There’s no way we’re doing that; that’s a ridiculous idea, and he’s an idiot”—or something to that effect.
Self-righteousness negatively impacts us, our relationships, and the teams we belong to or lead. It also undercuts our ability to influence those around us. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., said, “You have very little morally persuasive power with those who can feel your underlying contempt.”
Identifying our self-righteousness can be challenging because often when you and I are being self-righteous, we don’t think we’re being self-righteous, we think we’re right.
At an event a few years ago, I delivered a keynote address on authentic leadership in which I spoke about, among other things, the Authenticity Continuum. Afterward, a man approached me and said, “Hey Mike, thanks for your speech. I got a lot out of it.” He reached out to shake my hand. “I’m Dan.”
“Thanks, Dan,” I said, shaking his hand.
“I know your talk this morning was about leadership,” he said, “and while I was thinking about my team and how I lead, I couldn’t help but think about my mom, especially when you were talking about self-righteousness.”
“What specifically made you think about your mom?” I asked.
“Well,” Dan said, “my dad died a few years ago, and my mom’s getting older. I’m the oldest of four. We all agree that she should sell her house and move into a condo. Doing this would definitely make her life easier, and ours as well—since we’re constantly having to help her with so many things around the house that she’s getting too old to take care of, or that my dad managed when he was around. But she can be so stubborn. It’s hard to get through to her. My siblings have all stopped trying, but not me. I try to talk to her about it, but we end up fighting, which drives me crazy. It never occurred to me until today that maybe one of the reasons that she doesn’t listen to me is because I’m so incredibly self-righteous with her.”
I could see that Dan was starting to get emotional as he talked about his mother and their situation. I said, “I’m sorry to hear about your father’s death. I know every situation is unique. But both my mom and dad have passed away, so I do have some understanding of the emotional and practical challenges involved with losing a parent. I can tell how much you love your mom. You wouldn’t have come up to talk to me about her and this situation if you didn’t love her so much.” I paused before asking, “How do you really feel?”
“How do I really feel about what?” asked Dan.
“About everything going on with you, your mom, and your family?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, “I guess I feel scared.”
“What do you feel scared about?”
“My dad took care of her and of so many things. Even though I have a family of my own and have a lot of responsibility at work, I’m not used to taking care of my mom like this. I worry about her—worry that it will continue to get harder as she gets older. And I just want to do what’s best.”
“That all makes sense to me,” I said. “Have you had this conversation with your mom?”
“No, not specifically.”
“It’s up to you, of course, but you might want to let her know how you really feel. I bet she would hear you and understand,” I said. “The natural human response to self-righteousness is defensiveness. Your mom is just defending and protecting herself, which is what we almost always do when we feel self-righteousness coming at us. Being self-righteous doesn’t make you a bad son or a bad person; it just means you’re human. You could apologize to her for it. And I bet you have some good ideas and suggestions that might help her and her situation. If you can let go of your self-righteousness, she might actually be able to hear some of them.”
Like Dan, most of us can be self-righteous at times, and we often aren’t aware of it because we’re so focused on being right. It takes quite a bit of self-awareness to notice our self-righteousness, and it takes willingness and maturity to let it go, or to at least look at things from a different perspective. It can also be helpful to have people around us whom we trust to point out when we’re being self-righteous but may not be aware of it.
The Distinction Between Self-Righteousness and Conviction
Removing self-righteousness does not mean watering down our opinions or decreasing our passion. Believing strongly in our opinions, as well as in our values and beliefs about life, work, and everything else, is important. However, understanding the difference between conviction and self-righteousness is essential. When we’re coming from a place of conviction about something, we believe it to be true, we think it’s “right,” and we’re often willing to speak up about it, to defend our position, and to engage in healthy dialogue or debate about it. But we must also have enough humility, awareness, and maturity to consider we might be wrong—or that, at the very least, there may be other ways to look at it, even if we can’t see or understand them. We’ve all had experiences when we were convinced we were 100 percent right about something, only to realize we were wrong. As humbling as this can be, keeping it in mind can help keep us from crossing the line over to self-righteousness and give us the perspective to stay in a place of healthy conviction.
When we do cross over into self-righteousness, we’re no longer interested in hearing what anyone else has to say if they disagree with us or have a different perspective. We’re right and anyone and everyone who doesn’t see it our way is wrong.
Look at the tenor of the political discourse in our country and our world. Many of us, myself included, have very strong political opinions, and there are serious issues that divide us. Instead of engaging in healthy and productive debates about these things, there is so much intense self-righteousness we seem unable even to listen to one another, which is almost as scary and dangerous as any of the important issues we’re facing. We end up demonizing people who don’t agree with us, refusing to talk or listen to them—or, when we do, we make our case in such a self-righteous way that we create more separation and disconnection. Turn on cable news, or read the comments section of many news websites or blogs, and you’ll see the intensity of self-righteousness playing out right in front of you.
And this doesn’t happen just with politics; it happens right in our own lives, families, and work environments. We separate ourselves from those who don’t think like we do or hold the same ideas, opinions, or beliefs. At work our self-righteousness leads to disconnection, unresolved conflicts, and factions within teams and organizations. Lines get drawn between departments, offices, regions, and levels within the company, making it more difficult to make decisions, collaborate, and get things done.
Self-righteousness is one of the most damaging energies we carry as human beings. If we want to connect with those around us in an authentic way, and create an environment of authenticity, trust, and collaboration, we must be willing to recognize, own, and remove our self-righteousness.
Adding Vulnerability
Vulnerability is fundamental to relationships, trust, and, of course, authenticity. However, it’s often misunderstood. Most of us have a strange relationship to vulnerability. Over the past decade, as I’ve researched, studied, and traveled around the world exploring authenticity—and specifically vulnerability—I’ve learned a lot and been inspired by the work of others. Dr. Brené Brown is a research professor at the University of Houston who studies human emotions, including vulnerability. Her research has had a big impact on both my work and my personal life. In her book Daring Greatly, she defines vulnerability as “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.” This succinct definition is spot on, yet like many important things in life, being vulnerable is easier said than done, for a variety of reasons.
I got invited to speak at an event for Gap in Japan a few years back. This event, a three-day leadership academy, was similar to a number of events I’d done for them, which had all taken place in the United States. As with these previous events, I was asked to deliver the opening keynote address. The big difference this time was that my presentation would be translated into Japanese. They were going to do what’s called a simultaneous translation. In other words, I would get up on stage and speak in English, but the people in the audience who don’t speak English would wear an earpiece, and a person sitting in a booth at the back of the room would translate what I say into Japanese.
I had a few calls with the team from Gap to go over the details and logistics of the event, as well as to discuss some of the cultural dynamics, since this would be my first time to Japan. In preparing my speech, I tried to be as mindful as possible. Whenever I travel outside the U.S., I usually feel a mixture of excitement and fear—especially if it’s a country I’ve never been to before. I try to be as culturally sensitive as possible, although I’m almost always confronted with my own bias and how incredibly limited my worldview can be.
I wanted to get to the ballroom early so I could meet with the team from Gap and, specifically, talk to the translator. There are two things that often make it challenging for translators to work with me. First, I talk pretty fast, so it can be hard to keep up with me. Second, I don’t usually use slides and I speak fairly extemporaneously, which can make it challenging to follow me and translate what I say into another language.
When the translator and I met, we discussed some of the key points of my keynote, and I said, “One of the most important things is how I define authenticity. It’s honesty, without self-righteousness, and with vulnerability.”
“Vulnerability?” she asked, somewhat surprised.
“Yes, vulnerability.”
“Vulnerability?” she asked again, now seeming almost agitated.
“Yes, vulnerability.”
She gave me a strange look and, after a long pause, she said, “There’s no word for that in Japanese.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Well,” she said, “there is a word, but it’s a bad word.”
Now I was fascinated. “What is it?”
“It means ‘weakness.’”
“Actually,” I responded, “people often think that’s what it means in English, as well.”
“Why would you tell people to be vulnerable?” she asked, in a somewhat argumentative way.
“Well,” I said, “my research and experience have taught me two important things about vulnerability. First, it’s fundamental to human trust and connection. So for these three hundred leaders who will be here this afternoon, if they want to build trust with the people on their teams and connect with them in a genuine way, it’s important for them to embrace vulnerability. Second, vulnerability is essential for creativity, innovation, change, risk, and anything new or different. If these leaders want to be able to innovate, grow, or inspire risk-taking in themselves and others, vulnerability is necessary.”
She stood there staring at me like I was crazy. I could tell she didn’t agree with what I was saying. Adding to my nervousness and my own vulnerability about giving this presentation in a place I’d never been and an environment I assumed would be challenging, I was now having a standoff with the translator.
After an awkward pause, I said, “Listen, do me a favor: just translate what I say as best you can. If it doesn’t make sense or doesn’t resonate with the group, I’ll figure it out.”
She nodded and walked back toward the translation booth. I didn’t really know how I was going to figure it out; I just knew I wanted to be done with that conversation, because it was stressing me out.
When I got up onstage to deliver my keynote, my heart was racing and my hands were shaking. As I got rolling, some of my anxiety dissipated. But when I began to talk about authenticity I noticed my heart rate going back up. Maybe I shouldn’t mention vulnerability. Maybe it won’t make sense or translate. What if it’s culturally insensitive or even offensive? As I got closer to that point in my presentation, I realized there was no way for me to talk about authenticity without talking about vulnerability, so I decided just to go for it. As I began to explain vulnerability, I looked back into the translating booth. What is she telling them right now? I realized in that moment she could be saying anything she wanted to say, and I would have no idea what it was. Was she saying, “Don’t listen to this crazy American,” or “Vulnerability is bad,” or something else?
Yet it seemed like what I was saying was resonating with the group, although in that environment and given the language and cultural differences it was hard to tell. I even decided to lead the group through a paired vulnerability exercise, which I often do if I have time and the environment is conducive. Although it was a little challenging to facilitate this exercise, given the size of the group and the language barrier, it felt important to me that they have an experience of vulnerability, not just a concept.
As my presentation ended and I walked offstage, I felt excited that it seemed to have gone well but also relieved that it was over. I walked to the back of the room to take off my microphone and saw the translator coming out of the booth.
She walked right up to me, bowed, and said, “Thank you for your presentation.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“I didn’t understand what you meant about vulnerability when we spoke before your speech. But after hearing you talk about it and watching the group do that exercise, I think I understand it now. Vulnerability isn’t bad, it’s just hard.”
“That’s right. It’s hard.”
Being vulnerable takes courage. Unfortunately, all too often we relate to vulnerability—especially in certain environments, relationships, and situations (particularly at work)—as something we should avoid. But it’s vulnerability that liberates us from our erroneous and insatiable obsession with trying to do everything “right”—thinking that we can’t make mistakes, have flaws, or be human. Embracing vulnerability allows us to let go of the pressure-filled perfection demands we place on ourselves.
In addition to liberating us, being vulnerable gives other people permission to be vulnerable as well; and in doing so, we open up the possibility of real human connection. The natural human response to vulnerability is empathy. And with empathy, we can create deeper trust, connection, and understanding with those around us.
The Authenticity Equation
As we move along the Authenticity Continuum from phony, to honest, and then to authentic, we can think of authenticity as an equation:
Honesty – Self-Righteousness + Vulnerability = Authenticity
By noticing our own phony tendencies, challenging ourselves to be honest, being self-aware enough to remove our self-righteousness, and having the courage to be vulnerable—we’re able to be truly authentic.
Understanding the Authenticity Equation and practicing it with ourselves, at work, and in life allows us to show up and connect with others in a real way. It’s not easy, and it takes significant self-awareness and courage, but when we do this it’s both liberating for us and inspiring for those around us. At the core, bringing our whole selves to work is based on our ability to be authentic. And, being authentic has a profound impact on how we connect with others and build relationships, as well as how we engage in our work and produce results.
In a study conducted by Dan Cable, of London Business School, and Virginia Kay, then of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, recent M.B.A. graduates were surveyed four months into their jobs. The ones who felt they could express their authentic selves at work were, on average, 16 percent more engaged and committed to their organizations than those who felt the need to hide.
In another study, Cable and Kay surveyed 2,700 teachers who had been working for a year, and reviewed their performance ratings given by their supervisors. The teachers who said they could express their authentic selves received higher ratings than the teachers who didn’t feel they could do so.
Lower the Waterline on Your Iceberg
The metaphor I like to use when talking about authenticity is the iceberg. In life, and especially in our work, most of us feel comfortable showing just the tip of our iceberg—the professional, appropriate, and put-together aspects of ourselves. But who we really are, what we really think, how we really feel, and what’s really going on in our lives is below the waterline. How we show up more authentically and create an environment around us conducive to this is by lowering the waterline on our iceberg.
The exercise I facilitate that encourages people to lower their waterline is called “If you really knew me . . .” I learned this exercise many years ago from my friends and mentors, Rich and Yvonne Dutra-St. John. They are the co-founders of a wonderful nonprofit organization called Challenge Day. This powerful exercise gives people the opportunity to be real and vulnerable with others, and allows groups and teams to connect with each other in an authentic way.
I’ve led this exercise hundreds of times over the past decade. We do it in big groups, small groups, and with intact teams of people who work together on a daily basis, which is one of my favorite ways to do the exercise.
I am going to explain in detail how I set up, lead, and facilitate this exercise because it’s a fairly simple yet incredibly powerful way to engage the people you work with in an authentic conversation, and in the process build a deeper level of trust and connection within your group. This exercise encourages us to get real with each other, and gives people a real-life, visceral experience of authenticity that can be profound. And introducing and facilitating this exercise is something you can do with the people on your team and others you work with.
If the group is large, like the one at the event in Japan, I usually have people pair up for the exercise. If the group is a bit smaller, but has more than 15 people, as in a workshop or seminar setting, I will often put people into small groups of 4 or 5. And, if the group is small enough (15 people or fewer), and we have the time, we’ll do the exercise all together as one group.
I set up the exercise by explaining the Authenticity Continuum and the Authenticity Equation, acknowledging that being honest takes commitment and skill, that removing self-righteousness takes self-awareness and humility, and that being vulnerable takes courage and faith. None of these things are easy, and in certain situations they can be very difficult. Then we talk about the iceberg and the importance of lowering the waterline. I tell everyone that when we lower our waterline, we liberate ourselves, give other people permission to do the same, get to know each other in a more real way, build trust and connection, and embody the essence of authenticity. I then explain that we’re going to do an exercise where we get to practice being authentic and challenge ourselves to step out of our comfort zones by lowering the waterline on our icebergs.
At this point I put people into pairs or groups, if that is necessary, and explain that I’ll let everyone know exactly how the exercise will go, that then I’ll go first (as a way to model it and set the tone), and that then we’ll do it all together as a group (or in pairs or small groups).
I say, “When it’s your turn, you’ll have about two minutes to talk. You’ll just repeat this phrase: ‘If you really knew me, you’d know . . .’ And then you’ll share whatever you’re willing to share.” Then I let them know, “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to say.”
At this point, I often joke, “This is not like ‘shock-the-group time’,” at which people usually laugh—both because it’s funny and because some people are feeling nervous and uncomfortable hearing what they’re being asked to do. Then I usually say, “This is an opportunity for you to be authentic in a vulnerable way with your colleagues. Again, it’s totally your choice about what you choose to share, although I do encourage and challenge you to step out of your comfort zone. In order for this exercise to be as safe as possible, it’s important that we not talk when someone else is talking, and that we agree to confidentiality. That means that when people are talking we don’t make comments, give feedback, ask questions, or make any jokes. It also means that whatever people share, we keep it to ourselves.” Then I ask, “Can we all agree to these things?”
Once the exercise is set up, people are clear, and there aren’t any more questions, I start by lowering the waterline for myself and sharing whatever is true for me in that moment. I don’t prepare it or think about it too much; I just open my mind, my heart, and my mouth—and share about how I’m feeling, what’s going on in my life, or whatever’s real for me right then.
After I’m done sharing, I open it up to the group and we go around in some understandable order that depends on whether we’re doing the exercise as a full group, in a small group, or even in pairs. If we do the exercise in the full group, I find it often works best for the leader of the team to go right after me, and then for us to go around the table in one direction from there. If the group is broken up into smaller groups, I usually ask for one person in each group to raise their hands so that we have volunteers to go first; and then the rest of the people follow in one direction in their small group. I also find it helpful to ask one person in each group to be a timekeeper. They usually use the timer on their phones, and set it for two minutes. Having the timekeeper allows everyone to have the same amount of time, and also allows me to manage the overall time of the exercise for the whole group. For pairs, we pick an A and a B . . . and I usually have person B go first, just to give the group another laughter release when I mention that. It’s important to give everyone about the same amount of time, so that things are balanced as well as possible. I remind them that there is no right or wrong way to do the exercise—the main goal is just to lower the waterline and allow themselves to be authentic. Sometimes people get emotional; it’s not uncommon for there to be tears in this exercise, although that’s not necessary for it to have impact and it’s never something I’m trying to force or manufacture. It’s just that when we’re given the opportunity to get real, what sometimes comes out of people is some emotion they’ve been holding on to that wants to be expressed.
Once everyone involved has had a chance to lower their waterline and share, then we get to discuss it. In pairs or small groups, I often ask people to share anything they want to say in response to what people revealed, and to talk a little bit about what it was like to have that conversation.
Every group is unique, and I’ve seen, heard, felt, and shared lots of different things over the years in this exercise. However, there are some universal aspects. Often I’ll have people in the room who love this exercise and others who hate it. Most people have a mixture of feelings about it. Sometimes I hear things like, “Wow, I had no idea this was going on for people.” They’re often amazed by the courage displayed in what people share, and how much stuff is going on below the waterline that we mostly don’t know or talk about. There are two questions I usually ask the group as we debrief:
Almost everyone’s hands go up in response to both of these questions. This exercise and follow-up conversation serve as an important way for people and teams to connect with one another and get to know each other in a deeper way, even and especially if they work together regularly. And the second question speaks to something that is very important about authenticity, specifically vulnerability. As I said earlier, the natural human response to vulnerability is empathy. The irony is that often the more personal we’re willing to be, the more relatable we are to the people around us. In some cases we may be able to relate to the specific circumstance, situation, or experience a person is talking about. Even if we can’t relate specifically, however, we can almost always relate emotionally.
Deep down below the waterline, we get to some pretty basic and important human experiences and emotions—fear, joy, sadness, gratitude, anger, hope, hurt, uncertainty, risk, and, ultimately, vulnerability. I’ve done this exercise with groups of all kinds; in different industries, cities, and countries; and facing all kinds of circumstances. What I’m constantly reminded of when we have this conversation is that we’re way more alike than we are different. One of the great paradoxes of life, and in working with other people, is that while we’re diverse in many important ways, we also have much common ground as human beings. As simple of a realization as this is, it’s important for us to remind ourselves and each other, to remember, and to create opportunities as often as we can to experience this type of genuine human connection. Authenticity is an in-the-moment phenomenon, and lowering our waterline and encouraging others to do the same, even and especially at work, is how we build more authentic relationships and enhance the environment around us.
If You Really Knew Me . . .
As a way of practicing and modeling this, right here and right now (as I would do if I were facilitating this exercise with a group), I’ll share . . .
If you really knew me right now, you’d know that I have lots of self-criticism going on in my brain as I write this—the voice in my head won’t stop chattering. You’ve written about this before, and have been speaking about it for years. You’re a one-trick pony who doesn’t really have anything unique to share. This is lame and nobody cares.
If you really, really knew me you’d know that even after more than 20 years of being in therapy, seeing hundreds of practitioners of all kinds, doing as many workshops and seminars as possible, reading tons of books, and teaching what I’ve been teaching—I still get stuck in deep, dark places of self-doubt and self-judgment, especially about my body and appearance, my fatherhood, and my career.
And, if you really, really, really knew me, you’d know that while my many experiences of loss and grief have taught me a great deal and given me incredible perspective, they’ve also freaked me out in a way I don’t like to fully acknowledge. I pretend like I’m okay, but there are times when my fear of death get really intense—worrying about my own death or about people close to me dying. I also find that I judge myself harshly—thinking that these experiences of loss should have taught me more and given me even more perspective and peace than I actually have. I still waste way more time and energy than I’d like worrying about stuff either that I can’t control or that I know doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things.
These are some of the things you’d know about me right now if you really knew me. How about you? What would people know about you if they really knew you? Specifically, what would the people you work with know about you, if they really, really knew you? Of course, you don’t have to share this with anyone, and certainly not everyone, but what would it be like to have more freedom to lower your waterline, especially in your work and with the people you interact with professionally? How might it liberate you and connect you with others?
It takes a lot of energy to keep our waterline up. We tend to carry around a big shield, erroneously thinking it will protect us. We’ve all been hurt, taken advantage of, disappointed, let down, and manipulated in the past—at work and in life. These experiences can be painful, and do have impact. Sadly, however, we use them as justification to build up our shield to be even bigger. And we can’t understand why we’re so exhausted and stressed out, especially at work. Our stress and exhaustion is not as much from all the meetings, demands, and goals as we think it is. In fact, much of it comes from trying to be how we think we’re “supposed” to be, instead of how we really are. What if we put down the shield? What if we stopped trying to protect ourselves all the time? Will we get hurt? Yes. Will we get taken advantage of from time to time? Yes. Might we make a fool of ourselves or put our foot in our mouth? Of course. Will these things be painful or embarrassing? Yes, some of them. But guess what? These things will probably happen from time to time no matter how much we try to “protect” ourselves.
As another mentor of mine said to me years ago, “Mike, you’re living your life as though you’re trying to survive it. You have to remember something very important: nobody ever has.” What are we really afraid of? What are we trying to shield ourselves from anyway? The mortality rate is holding strong at 100 percent.
I once heard Sheryl Sandberg share a poignant story about an experience she had about a year after her husband, Dave, died. She was at her son’s music concert at school one afternoon. Seeing all the other families there, especially all the other dads, made her very sad.
“Seeing all the fathers watching their children,” she said, “was a stark reminder of what my children and I lost—and what Dave lost. As soon as I got home, I ran upstairs in tears. Unfortunately, my work day wasn’t over. I was hosting a dinner at my house for Facebook’s top clients from around the world.” She went on to say, “As people started to arrive, I still couldn’t pull myself together. My son was with me, and I told him that I needed to stop crying and go downstairs. He held my hand and said, ‘You should just go. It’s okay if you’re crying. Everyone knows what happened to us.’ Then he added, ‘Mom, they probably have things they cry about too, so you should just be yourself.”
Lowering the Waterline with Your Team
As I mentioned above, one of my favorite environments in which to do the “If you really knew me” exercise is with an intact team of people who work together regularly. I’ve seen some incredible things with this exercise over the years in those team environments. A number of years ago, I got a call from Aditi Dhagat, a director at Adobe at the time. She was someone I’d had a chance to partner with a few times, and Adobe is a longtime client. Aditi had just gotten a new role leading a new team, and wanted me to come in and do a half-day session with them in the morning of a day-long kickoff meeting she’d put together. She’s a leader who embodies authenticity, which I really appreciate. When she called me, she said, “I want the team to get to know me and each other in an authentic way. Let’s start right away with lowering the waterline on the iceberg and do the ‘if you really knew me exercise.’”
When I met with Aditi’s new team, we dove right into authenticity, as she had requested. I set up the exercise just as I mentioned above, and kicked things off by lowering the waterline on my own iceberg. I was sitting at one end of the table and Aditi was at the other end. Usually, as I mentioned earlier, I will ask the leader to go second, right after me, but on that particular morning I decided just to turn directly to my right and ask the person sitting there to go next. I realize this can often be difficult, especially for the first few people—they sometimes feel put on the spot and, in a case like this, they’re still in that getting-to-know-each-other phase with their team and their new boss, which adds to the challenge. The first few people did engage in the exercise, but it was clear they were being cautious, which was understandable.
When it came to Aditi’s turn, she smiled and said, “If you really knew me, you’d know that I’m not sure I should’ve taken this job.” There was a gasp, and I looked around the table at the people on the team: most of them had their eyes and mouths wide open. This isn’t the kind of thing you usually say to your new team. She continued: “If you really, really knew me, you’d know that I’m having a hard time letting go of my old team. Even though this job is a good opportunity for me, I’ve worked really hard with my previous team and I’m worried I might be making a mistake taking on this new role.” The truth, openness, and vulnerability of what she was saying and how she was saying it was palpable. Then she said, “If you really, really, really knew me, you’d know I’m feeling nervous about being your new leader; and I’m not sure how you all feel about me or if you think I was the best person for this job, which makes me feel a bit insecure stepping into this role.”
I thanked her for sharing, as I do after everyone shares during the exercise. And I was struck by her courage and authenticity. What she said and how she said it created openness, space, and safety in that room for the rest of the people on the team to really open up. Every person who went after her was able to lower their waterline even further, because she had modeled it so beautifully and made it even safer for people to let down their guard. The conversation deepened as we completed the exercise, and, more importantly, as the team began to discuss how they wanted to communicate and collaborate. Aditi had not only talked about the importance of authenticity, she had modeled it in a courageous and vulnerable way. Not only was this a great way for her to kick things off and set the tone in her new role with her new team, but her commitment to authenticity and her team’s willingness to engage with each other served them very well in the subsequent months and years they worked together. They built a culture of trust, connection, and collaboration that was based on authenticity.
Two Types of Credibility
One of the things that makes authenticity challenging, and why we cling to our self-righteousness and avoid vulnerability, is that we worry about damaging our credibility. We erroneously think that somehow being right and covering up any perceived weakness, flaw, or insecurity will give us credibility with others, especially at work. But this is a superficial understanding of credibility. There are really two types of credibility:
Professional Credibility. This is about our résumé, our track record, our title, where we went to school, the results we’ve produced in the past, our skills, and other tangible things. Professional credibility is important: most of us have our jobs or careers owing in part to our professional credibility. When I’m speaking to a group, particularly leaders, I often say, “You wouldn’t be sitting in this room or have this role if you didn’t have the professional credibility for it. I wouldn’t be here speaking to you right now if I didn’t have the professional credibility for it.” Professional credibility is important. In many cases, however—especially for the purpose of building trusting relationships, strong teams, and a positive culture—personal credibility is much more important.
Personal Credibility. This has to do with people being able to relate to us, trust us, understand us, and find common ground with us—and with our ability to do these things with them in return. We build personal credibility with others by listening to them, opening up with them, sharing about ourselves, caring about them, apologizing when necessary, and being willing to lower the waterline on our iceberg. Self-righteousness damages our personal credibility, and vulnerability enhances it. The best way for us to build personal credibility with others is to be authentic. When we have personal credibility with others, there is more connection, loyalty, and understanding. We can give and receive feedback, work through challenges, and navigate the ups and downs of business and life together. We see each other as real people, not just as titles or résumés.
Understanding and separating out these two types of credibility can allow us to let go of our attachment to being right, and encourage our willingness to be more vulnerable—both of which are required for us to be authentic.
Authenticity is the foundation of bringing our whole selves to work. When we have the courage to be authentic (honest, without self-righteousness, and with vulnerability), not only does it liberate us, but it also gives us the ability to inspire and empower others. Authenticity is also a key factor both in creating a safe, healthy, and strong culture around us, and in ensuring that people and teams are engaged and performing at the highest level.