On Authenticity

I’ve always been drawn to authentic people.

It never really mattered who they were or what they were into. They could have completely different interests, beliefs, ways of moving through the world. That wasn’t the thing that made me lean in. What did—what always does—is watching someone thrive by just... being themselves. Fully. Unapologetically. Without the polish or performance.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about authenticity. What it means for me personally—what it has cost me at times—and how it has quietly shaped my work. The best CEOs I’ve worked with, the most magnetic teams, even the strongest individual contributors—they weren’t trying to mimic anyone. They were clear about who they were. Just as importantly, they were clear about who they weren’t.

There’s a quote I’ve always loved:

“You can be the sweetest peach in the world and there will still be someone who doesn’t like peaches.”
(Source: Dita Von Teese.)

It’s true in life. It’s definitely true in business.

The companies that try to be everything to everyone? They end up forgettable. But the ones that stake a claim, own their tone, plant a flag in the ground—that’s where traction lives. That’s where alignment starts. That’s where product-market fit has a fighting chance.

Authentic leadership does something else, too. It creates culture. Real culture. Not the performative kind. I’ve watched leaders who were honest about what they’re great at—and what they’re not—reshape entire teams. When leaders model self-awareness and imperfection, they create space for employees to practice doing the same. To admit mistakes. To take risks. To stop pretending. That’s when people get creative. That’s when they get better.

In contrast, I’ve seen companies—often in the name of “professionalism”—nudge every employee into the same mold. Polished. Measured. Buttoned-up. It’s exhausting. It’s also completely unnecessary.

There’s no hard CTA here. No pithy advice. Just an invitation to reflect, like I’ve been doing. Because authenticity isn’t just a personal virtue—it’s a business strategy. One that scales.

And frankly? One that feels a whole lot better, too.