Stop Telling People to “Be Themselves”

You’ve heard the saying before. I’m going to tell you why it’s bad advice.

In fourth grade I stared blankly at the “10 commandments” our teacher had written on the overhead. Bullets included things like: “Treat others the way you want to be treated”.

None really struck a chord with me, but the last one in particular bothered me: “Be Yourself.” I felt my previously foggy focus sharpen as I rolled the words over in my mouth: “be yourself.” No matter how many times I repeated it, I couldn’t figure out what I was supposed to take away from it. How could you be anyone other than who you are? I put it from my mind.

The difference between my fourth-grade-self and my present-self is I think I understand what the advice is getting at (and completely reject it).

In my experience, the advice “be yourself” oversimplifies the process of identity self-discovery to the point of being counterproductive.

Personally, K-12 and college were full of poor judgment calls and a lack of clear identity. I was a straight-A student with a rebellious streak. I didn’t know how to reconcile my feelings and behaviors into a neat little box. I felt like a phony. I was too many things at once, and stood for absolutely nothing. I wasn’t sure what I cared about or what I valued.

I had no idea who I was.

This lack of identity was both troubling and motivating. When I graduated high school, I remember thinking that going to university was my chance to start fresh — I’d settle on a nice, neat little identity and stick to it. The summer before college I resolved to 1) stop wearing makeup, 2) insist I was “totally obsessed” with LOTR, and 3) become a nerdy-cute-sort-of-tomboy-ish girl. Yes. This was it. This was my identity. I was even gifted the Evenstar necklace by my college fling. This shit went deep.

I kept up appearances for a while but still felt phony — a poor man’s Zooey Deschanel pixie dream girl.

This feeling made me resent anyone who seemed to have their identity figured out. The sorority sisters who seemed legitimately thrilled to organize softball fundraisers for a charity. The Black Student Union folks who roused at the flagpoles listening intently to a speaker. Even the religious fanatic holding a “The End is Near” sign in my college campus quad seemed to be more sure of himself than I was.

Every self-help YouTube video I came across promised the solution for gaining self-esteem and security: “Be Yourself!” It was advertised like you could flip a switch and your problems would melt away. Only one flaw with this: how could I “be myself” if I had absolutely no idea who I was or who I was supposed to be?

In college I met someone in my Chemistry Lab and we began dating. He was older, dark, charming. He was irreverent with a dash of salty virulence, yet sweet. His presence caused me to reevaluate my manufactured identity, and feel a strong gravitational pull into his world. I abandoned my old identity in an attempt to become someone I thought was more authentic and complex. I picked up some of his quirks. I was groping for anything that would fill my (still empty) identity void. I convinced myself I was transforming into what would be my permanent, “real” self. I was excited at the possibility.

Fast-forward to the end of my relationship with this guy — will spare the details — I slowly realized I had (again) zipped up a skin-suit that didn’t fit my body. His natural pessimism and ironic tone (both which had originally seemed appealing in their foreignness) didn’t come naturally to me.

After college, I moved back to the Bay Area and joined a tech startup called Postmates.

There was something intoxicating and transformative about being young, gainfully employed, and single in a big vibrant city. I went out to nightclubs alone multiple times a week, and bobbed my head to deep house wearing trendy-again 90's garb. There was a certain freedom in the lack of expectation from anyone in my immediate vicinity. Any day of the week I could choose to hang out in Dolores Park, crush it at work, or go backpacking. This new freedom gave me the space to sprawl out, reflect, and figure out what inspired me.

I realized that for me to be myself, I had to discover myself. The idea began to take shape in my subconscious.

I decided to try to find ways to find out who I was. Easy, right? I started by writing down simple, easily observable facts I knew to be true about myself (I was etching an outline that I would fill in with color later).

Was I morning person? Yes. Did I like peanut butter? Yes. Did I wear socks to bed like a weirdo? Yes. Was I a 5'10” brazilian model? Nope.

I spent a few weeks drawing a new image of myself that felt more objective than before, and I felt slightly more comfortable in my own skin. I also decided that if certain traits I wanted to have (confidence, assertiveness) didn’t come naturally to me it didn’t mean I was a failure. I decided it was OK to practice the skills and traits I wanted to build every day, like a muscle.

My experience is that the process of discovering who you are at different points in your life is 1) highly intentional 2) difficult and 3) time-consuming (but worth it). I want to share this experience in case it’s helpful for others out there.

So — I think we should tell kids the truth: it’s okay not to know who you are.

It’s okay not to know how to act — it’s normal. Let’s spend more time and energy discussing practical strategies to help others discover who they are and who they want to become.