Authenticity is your edge.

I've always been the energetic one: charismatic, quick to laugh, the first to fill a quiet room. I was also a young black man at a private school, from a quiet, sheltered home in the suburbs, with a lot of friends who'd grown up somewhere very different from me. Fitting in was never going to come naturally.

It wasn't one moment. It was all the time. The way I spoke, with good grammar and my words chosen carefully. The way I presented myself. Even my hair, which I wore relaxed and brushed over with gel, a look I still can't fully explain. All of it marked me out, and all of it got me called whitewashed. I got called a lot of things.

None of it was an act. It was just who I was. But people tried to make me ashamed of it, and the honest truth is that it worked. It worked. I started talking a certain way and acting a certain way that wasn't me at all, just to feel comfortable around the people I was with. Just to blend in.

I don't think I even noticed I was doing it at first. That's the thing about bending: it never announces itself. It just becomes the way you are in that room, and then the next room, and then every room.

That's where this starts.

01What bending does to you

It never stays small. Once you've changed how you talk for one group, you change your humour for another, your opinions for a third, and the way you carry yourself for whoever happens to be in front of you. Each change feels harmless on its own. Together, they cost you a part of yourself.

Then it turns inward. Faking it to please people makes you question who you actually are. Why am I a people pleaser? Why do I feel like I have to conform? Why am I not strong-willed enough to just be myself and see it through?

The cruel part is the timing. By the time you have that awakening, you can't simply go back, because there's nothing clean left to go back to. You've redefined yourself so many times, for so many different people, that you've forgotten who you were in the first place. Your traits, your values, the way you'd carry yourself if nobody was watching: you can't say for sure any more. That isn't a confidence problem. It's an identity problem, and it runs a lot deeper.

If any of that sounds familiar, I want you to know it isn't a flaw in you. It's what happens to almost anyone who spends long enough trying to be accepted by everyone. But it is something you can come back from, and the rest of this piece is about how.

02Finding your way back

Coming back to yourself is part practical, part a shift in how you see things.

The first step is the simplest one: surround yourself with people you want to be around. Not people you have to perform for, but people whose values you'd be proud to share. You slowly become the room you spend your time in, so choose the room.

Then do an honest audit. Look at the things you do, and ask who each one is for. The way you dress, the jokes you make, the opinions you share, the things you say yes to, the things you pretend to enjoy. Some of them are for you. A lot of them, if you're honest, are for other people. Separate the two, and what's left on your side of the line is a clue. That's what you actually care about, what you're passionate about, what you want. You build from there.

Then comes the part I didn't expect. The skill that made me a people pleaser in the first place was being perceptive: reading every room, noticing what everyone wanted, adjusting before anyone asked. It turns out that same skill is how you find your way back. Because when you spend that long watching people closely, you start to notice the qualities you genuinely admire in them.

For me, it isn't one person. It's everyone in my life, and I have a lot of love for them, even if I'm not always the best at showing it.

My brother has my back more than anyone. He's the most loyal person I know, and he makes sure I know it. Through thick and thin, he's there, and he knows I'm there for him too. That kind of loyalty is something I wish I showed more.

My mum is one of the most determined people I've ever met. Dedicated, driven in her career and her studies, and almost never wavering. She's a strong woman who stands up for herself, says what she thinks is right, and doesn't take nonsense from anyone, and that's exactly why she's where she is today.

My dad gets things done. He's stubborn, sometimes in the best possible way. He'll do DIY every day, fix things that don't need fixing, and keep himself busy to a perfectionist standard. If he decides something is getting done, it gets done. There's no version of it where he doesn't follow through.

Then there are my friends. Some are endlessly curious: they find everyone funny, they're open to any conversation, and they're so focused on learning about other people that you sometimes realise you barely know their own story. They're magnets. Others have achieved more than most people our age. And every one of them is themselves, through and through.

Even the quieter things stand out once you start looking. Kindness. Being a family person. Checking up on people, and calling instead of texting. Being the one in the group who makes things happen: who books the table, organises the meetup, and actually gets everyone in the same room. Being able to banter about nothing, slide into a deep conversation for an hour, share real opinions, and then go straight back to laughing. That last one is something I've always valued in myself, too.

I admired those things in other people for a long time before I realised they weren't just things I admired. They were who I wanted to be. And, if I'm honest, a lot of them were who I used to be, before I started bending. The people around me became a guide. Not a version of me built for someone else's approval, but a direction I could actually move back towards.

A benchmark only shows you the direction, though. Getting there is practical, and it follows the same rule I live by everywhere else: you can't talk yourself into an identity. You have to give yourself the evidence.

If you want to be kind, you can't just tell yourself you're a kind person. You have to do kind things, again and again. Check up on the friend who's gone quiet. Make the call instead of sending the text. Remember the thing someone mentioned last week, and ask about it. Want to be loyal? Show up when it costs you something. Want to be the one who makes things happen? Book the table. James Clear puts it well in Atomic Habits: every action is a vote for the type of person you want to become.

It's the same idea as building on your achievements, just pointed inwards. The evidence doesn't need to impress anyone else. It only needs to convince you. And once it does, nobody can talk you out of who you are, because you've watched yourself become it.

Then there's the mindset shift, which is the easiest part and by far the most freeing. People will form opinions about you whatever version of yourself you show them. You can bend as far as you like, work as hard as you like at pleasing everyone, and there will still be people who judge you, people who don't like you, people who talk. That number never reaches zero.

So if you're going to be judged either way, why spend all that effort being judged for someone you're not? Be yourself, and let people split. The ones who don't like the real you walk away early, which saves everyone time. The ones who do are your people, and the opportunities that come through them actually fit you. Being authentic doesn't stop people judging you. It just makes sure they're judging the right person.

03The people you can't move

Think about the people you respect most, and I'd bet they have something in common. They have strong opinions, and they stand on them. They don't waver because someone disagrees with them, or calls them weird, or looks at them funny. They don't change their views to please a room, and they don't change how they carry themselves to impress anyone. They're themselves, through and through.

People like that are divisive by nature. Half the room agrees with them and half doesn't. But even the half that disagrees respects them, because they can see this is someone who stands on something and doesn't move. And that respect is worth more than being liked.

That's the part most people get backwards. The ones who try hardest to appeal to everyone end up memorable to no one. The ones who refuse to bend end up winning people over, precisely because they never tried to.

04Heart on your sleeve

The most authentic people I know are also the most secure, and I don't think that's a coincidence.

They don't care what people think of them. Not in an arrogant way; they simply don't let it in. They aren't trying to look good for you or impress you, so there's very little for doubt to grab hold of.

Think about what happens when you fake a part of yourself and someone still doesn't like you. Now you're left guessing. Why don't they like me? Which part? Was it the real me, or the version I put on for them? It eats at you, because you don't even know which you they turned down.

Now flip it. If you wear your heart on your sleeve, you've already accepted every part of yourself before anyone else gets a say. So when someone doesn't like a part of you, there's nothing left to question. They don't like that part of you. That's fine.

There's a freedom in that I can't really describe until you've felt it. You stop spending your energy managing how you come across, and you get to spend it on actually being there.

05Change the question

Watch how a people pleaser walks into a room, and then watch someone who's sure of themselves.

The people pleaser is asking the same question all night. Do you like me? Am I someone you'd want around? Everything they say is shaped by the answer they're hoping for.

The other person is asking the opposite. Do I take interest in you? Are you someone I want around? They aren't there to impress anyone or to be impressed. They're there to understand people. They're curious, they laugh, they take a real interest in the people in front of them, and they form their own opinions, strong ones, and share them.

What they don't do is pretend. They don't act like everything's fine when it isn't. They don't fake caring about things they don't care about, and they don't waste themselves on conversations that mean nothing to them. They stick to what they know and what they love, and they bring that into every room.

Same room, opposite question. One hands everyone else the power to judge you. The other keeps it where it belongs.

06The hard version: your career on the line

Everything I've said so far is easy to say. It gets a lot harder when you're a young black man walking into an office, and your career is what's at stake.

It's tempting to tell yourself the clean version: if they don't like me, because of my skin, the way I talk, the energy I bring, the way I carry myself, then I didn't belong there anyway. It sounds brave. But it can quietly cost you the very thing you came for. There are rooms where you can't be all of yourself yet, and pretending otherwise doesn't make you more authentic. It just makes you less likely to stay.

Some of that is ordinary professionalism, and it applies to everyone: nobody brings their full Friday-night self to a client meeting. But some of it isn't ordinary. I wish I could say that how I wear my hair or how I dress will never be held against me. It isn't fair, and I'm not going to pretend it is. It's simply the position you're in at the start, when you hold almost none of the power in the room.

So here's the line I draw. There's a difference between what I did at school and what I do at work. At school, I bent without noticing, for acceptance, and I bent my core: my humour, my opinions, my voice, until I forgot what they were. At work, I adapt on purpose, for a reason, and only on the surface. I'll adjust how I present myself to earn my place. I won't change what I think, what I value, or who I am underneath. The first is losing yourself. The second is strategy.

And it isn't forever. You earn your way into the room first. Once you're in, you have more room to move: you find your people, the ones you can be fully yourself with, and you let more of yourself out as your position grows. That's the same rule as everything else I believe: earn it, then own it.

My placement showed me what that looks like in practice. One of the graduates there was another young black man who'd made it inside, and he was completely himself: sociable, energetic, charismatic. Everyone in the office loved him. Watching him, I recognised exactly who I am, and exactly who I'd been scared to be. I didn't copy him, but I took him as proof that it could be done.

So I let more of myself in. People knew what I was about. They saw me building Ritual. I told them about my life outside work, talked about travel and the places I want to see and the things I genuinely care about, and I asked them deeper questions back. Not every one of those conversations belongs at your desk; some of them happen over a coffee with someone closer to your level, because the professionalism still has to be there. But they felt meaningful. Real connections were happening.

That's what I'll carry into every room from now on. Share your passions, take a genuine interest in other people's, and you'll go further than any polished, neutral version of yourself ever could.

If you're about to walk into one of those rooms for the first time, I've written something just for you: a letter to black students entering the workplace.

07Energetic, and respected

None of this means sanding yourself down. The version of authenticity I respect most has two halves, and it needs both.

Being energetic, charismatic and bubbly is part of who I am, and part of a culture I'm proud of. But so is speaking well, carrying myself well, being polite, having manners, holding my values and keeping my discipline. Those aren't a costume I put on for other people. They're mine too. Being authentic doesn't mean being nonchalant about everything, or showing off to prove you don't care. It means being all of yourself, the energy and the standards together, through and through.

I see this balance everywhere among the black students I know at places like Warwick. We're the life of the party when we're out, the funniest people in the room, unmistakably ourselves. We also hold ourselves to high academic standards, and we're often the most polite, most well-mannered people there. Nobody had to choose between the two.

And yes, we're a little different when we're with our own people. More relaxed, more energetic, quicker to laugh, maybe using words and phrases from our culture that we wouldn't use in a meeting. That's fine. It isn't a second personality. It's the same person in a different room, which is something everyone does, whether they notice it or not. What matters is that the person underneath, the values, the humour, the way you treat people, is the same in both.

And once you've struck that balance, the question changes. Are you really going to dislike me for being a bit more energetic than the average person, when I've treated you with complete respect, shared good ideas with you, and we've genuinely enjoyed each other's company? If that's still a problem for you, it isn't my problem any more. It's yours. That's judgement, and it's stereotyping, and I won't shrink myself to accommodate it. I know exactly who I am, and I'm not going to hide it just to impress you.

08Your edge

Here's what I've come to believe: authenticity isn't just something to protect. It's your edge. It's the sharpest thing you own.

Conform, and you become one of many: the same answers, the same jokes, the same carefully neutral version of a person that every interviewer, every manager and every new friend has met a hundred times before. Be yourself, and you're the only one. That's what makes people remember you after you've left the room.

It cuts both ways, and I won't pretend it doesn't. Standing out means some people won't like what they see. It might cost you an opportunity or two. But it will win you far more of the ones that actually fit you, with people who chose you for who you are rather than for who you were pretending to be. Those are the only opportunities worth keeping anyway.

It's cost me friendships, too. Some faded because I'd outgrown them. Others ended because someone did something that went against everything I value, and I had to let them go. That's never easy, and I won't pretend it is. But your friends are a reflection of you, because they're the people you choose to keep around. If you're serious about who you are, you have to be serious about who you stand next to.

The skill isn't in having an edge. Everyone has one. The skill is in sharpening it: learning how to channel who you are into the way you present yourself, so that it lands the way you mean it to. I'm still learning that myself. I haven't perfected the balance, and I'm not sure anyone ever completely does. But I'm closer than I've ever been, and I know which way I'm heading.

What it's given me

I'd be lying if I said being myself has won me everything. But it's won me the things that matter most.

The clearest example is the final interview for my placement, with the person running the firm. He wanted to know more about me, so I told him about my businesses and how obsessed I am with improving myself. Halfway through, I felt like I'd gone off script. This wasn't what candidates are supposed to say, and it didn't feel like what he wanted to hear. But for a few minutes I lost myself in it, the way you only can when you're talking about something you genuinely care about. Looking back, that was the moment he got interested. If I'm honest, it's what got me the job.

Some of what it gives you is quieter. At an event at Warwick, I was pushed up on stage to dance. When I was younger, I'd have jumped up there without a second thought; it was the kind of thing I lived for. But over the years, for all the reasons in this piece, I'd gone a long way back into my shell. This time I was nervous, uncomfortable, anxious. And I did it anyway. I can't fully describe how satisfying that felt. It wasn't the applause. It was the relief of finding out that the person I used to be was still in there.

And the most rewarding part has nothing to do with me. I've had a lot of honest conversations with people who are completely themselves, and who sometimes get worn down for it. I tell them I wouldn't want them any other way. Seeing what that means to them is worth more than any opportunity. Being authentic yourself is one thing. Telling someone else that their authenticity is exactly what you respect about them might be the best part of all.

Below the surface

Most of what makes you authentic isn't on the surface at all. Think of it like an iceberg. Above the water is what people see first: how you dress, how you talk in a meeting, the small talk you make by the coffee machine. You'll adapt some of that, and that's fine.

Below the water is the part that's actually you. Your values. Your discipline. Your curiosity. Your interest in people. The things you love to talk about, and the things you can't stand talking about. None of that has to change for anyone, and it's where all your weight is.

Small talk is unavoidable. You'll have to do it, and there's no point pretending you won't. But every time there's a chance to go deeper, take it. Ask the question you're actually curious about. Don't be scared of being interested in someone. Steer the conversation towards the things you genuinely care about. That's where people meet the real you, and it's usually where the conversations worth remembering happen.

09If you're still bending

If you're bending yourself right now, for a friendship group, for a group chat, for a room you're desperate to fit into, I know exactly what that feels like. I spent years doing it. And every version of you that you build for someone else is a version you have to keep up. The more of them you keep, the harder it gets to find the real one underneath.

But it's still there. Find it, and then stop hiding it. Adapt the surface when you have to, and never trade away what's underneath. Some people won't like what they see. Let them go. They were never your people.

And the next time you walk into a room, stop asking whether they like you. Start asking whether you like them.

10How Ritual helps

11Questions

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