Last month, Rebecca Hunter invited us to question The Truth About Success. And today, she’s got another idea for us to ponder. Is transparency REALLY sexy?! Enjoy.
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If you know me, you’ll be all too familiar with my tendency to wax lyrical on the virtues of being truthful and recklessly you. One of my favourite writers, Danielle LaPorte, shed some light I adore:
“Acting like something you’re not is not only emotionally, spiritually, and frequently financially exhausting, it’s unsustainable. Image is a fragile thing. Sincerity is rock solid. Transparency is sexy. Care more about being accurately, precisely who you are than caring what anyone might think about you.”
This is my gospel. But one line’s had me doubting Ms LaPorte’s (for the most part) indubitable foresight…
“Transparency is sexy.”
Really??
I guess it makes sense… When I stop to think about it, away from hesitation and with hope on my side, maybe wearing my heart on my sleeve will weed out the naysayers from the unwavering soul mates.
It’s polarising, in a good way. Right?
Even so, my past soul-baring ventures don’t make my gut easy to trust. Crumbling’s inevitable (and way too dangerous). Might it be possible to be *too* transparent?
Since I started reaching out to like-minded peeps, the same old autobiography’s been my intro. Self-consciousness aplenty, insecurity galore, always striving for recognition and belonging. It’s a tired story, but I’m keen to tell it. To be open. To be vulnerable.
Until I second guess myself.
Will uncovering my warts-and-all *really* appeal? Past experience says it’ll put people off.
I think back to the It-girls I envied as a crimson-faced teen. The ones who sat at the back of class, way too cool for chalkboards and lectures. Or even the ones who clung to the teacher’s every murmur, convincing their followers it was good to give a damn. The ones whose space buzzed with clamouring hangers-on and whose social calendars were full to bursting. The ones who’d blatantly figured all this shiz out. What *was* it about them?
It doesn’t take a scientist to work out what they had: confidence.
They kept their chins up, laughed loudly, never blushed or lost control. And when I realised this and tried to fake it ‘til *I* made it, it seemed to do the trick. I played it oh so cool and kept my weaknesses under wraps. Attention was what I craved, and guess what? It was what I got. Whether or not it was the *right* attention could be debated…
I did my best to treat ‘em mean and keep ’em keen. I strove to give off an air of mystique. But indifference wasn’t my forté, and it showed. Painfully.
I have vivid memories of sitting on the stairs of a nightclub, befuddled and doing the ugly cry after coming clean and flaunting my emotions. (Playing games just didn’t come naturally.) The exposé hadn’t exactly been welcomed with open arms. In fact, I’d been dismissed in no uncertain terms and as good as ridiculed, outright and with no apology. When the going got deep, I was on my own. I was crushed. I could have kicked myself. And I reeked of desperation.
Despite the philosophy I now peddle about being barefaced and brazen, when I let the naked truth tumble out of me in a mess, I’m *still* left feeling small and senseless. They say old habits die hard. Ain’t that the truth?
I still worry endlessly about looking like a fool. I berate myself until enough time’s passed for me to realise that a heart-centred outpouring isn’t the end of the world. But lately, something’s started to click inside and make me see my unbridled quest for acceptance in a whole new light.
Embarrassment aside, you know what else pops up when I get vulnerable verbally? The relief of letting go, and the daring hope that someone cares. My well-intentioned façade slips without me noticing. I stop thinking so much and my subconscious takes over. It’s only afterwards that I stop to wonder what judgements about me might have been made. By then, it’s too late. What’s said is said and what’s done is done, and I’m learning to move on, staring straight ahead.
See, my stories give me clarity. They help me work out where I’ve been.
“I like to think of life as one big new city. And the people that live it well know exactly what the streets smell like. Stories let us build our own maps.” – Phil Kaye
My stories put my lessons into perspective and remind me that I’m alive. That maybe, just maybe, I’m *somebody*. Somebody with something to say.
And, even more than that, my stories connect me with other storytellers. They help me make raw, bona fide, call-(or-email)-me-at-3am-when-you’re-being-a-blubbering-buffoon kinda kinships with people who’ve been through the same wars and get why I’m wounded. Without risking life, limb and flat-out foolishness, how would I find the ones who are stumbling down the same path?
The lesson in all this (one that I remind myself of daily)?
Anyone who doesn’t want *all* of you doesn’t deserve to be in your life.
Also, maybe save all that juicy realness for those with whom you trust it. (If they’re in your circle / on your wavelength, they’re not gonna judge.)
(Note to self: they say you teach what *you* most need to learn… 😉 )
Over to you!
What’s your take on transparency? Is it *really* sexy? And is there such a thing as overload when it comes to openness?
Rebecca Hunter is a (formerly) closet misfit who’s driven by dreams and addicted to growth. She’s got a major crush on life and gets fired up by uncommon tales and fresh ideas. That’s why she founded Soul Riot, an online magazine that’s committed to stretching minds by sharing offbeat, soul-centred stories with the world. Do say hi on Twitter 🙂
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Hi Rebecca! You look familiar. 🙂 I was recently faced with this dilemma with a controversial blog post I wrote. It questioned the line between professionalism. Should I have kept my mouth shut? But I value transparency and vulnerability. I don't think you could go wrong there. And 'right' and 'wrong' are just value judgments anyway. I envied the confident kids.. I still struggle with it. But I am slowly having more confidence and courage.
Hi Janet. You look familiar too…! 🙂
"And 'right' and 'wrong' are just value judgments anyway."
Yes! You're so right about that, and it's something I'm just beginning to accept. I've always tried to do and say what's right in *other* people's eyes, but what I'm now realising is how painful that can be. As I said, hiding my vulnerabilities doesn't seem to come naturally. I'm more of a heart-on-sleeve kinda gal 🙂 And I really think that's OK.
You say your post was controversial. But only because you dared to say something different, something many other people might have been thinking… I think it's much better to value truth and transparency over the perception of others 🙂 But like you say, it takes courage. And maybe that's all confidence actually is.
People are so caught up trying to present an image that is centred on how they are received and accepted, rather than being their authentic self. It's such a contradiction because how does one ever expect to develop relationships of any substance when they are based on false ideals? In this process, many become lost trying to be who the person they believe others want them to be. And they've been dancing to same old tired tune for so long when the music stops they haven't the slightest clue what to do with themselves. There is something to be said for those who are willing to tell their real, often ugly and difficult, but usually awe-inspiring story. Anyone who is made uncomfortable by that, or who passes judgement, or who would dare to make another feel anything but empowered by the telling of their story is likely, under the surface, dealing with some serious demons of their own. People who don't know who they are, are toxic. Your story might be not be a flattering or proud story, but it's the only truth you've got, and I think we all owe it to ourselves to honour that. To be able to stand behind that truth, to say this is who I am and I am not ashamed, I am not embarrassed, and I am not seeking anyone's approval except my own, that's powerful. 'Speak the truth even when your voice shakes', these are words to live by. And if that story was never shared, if we were always caught up in how it would be received, or how we might be judged, we allow opportunities to slip right past us. Relationships or connections with genuine people are never given the chance to materialize because we were too worried about what they would think if we were to allow ourselves a moment of vulnerability to be who we really are. Life is too short, take the chance!
Love that, Alana! I think this is gonna be my new go-to pep talk whenever I need a boost 🙂
It really is ironic, isn't it? We all crave those meaningful relationships, but we're afraid to open up to the extent that we'd need to. We think putting up a front will impress the people we like. But how are they ever really gonna know us if that's the case? I'm at a point now where I'm craving more of those deep, genuine kinships. I was lucky enough when I was growing up to have some fab friends. We spent all our time together, finished each other's sentences, etc. They got me. But since our journeys have taken different paths, we've lost that connection 'cos I've felt the need to cover up our differences and nod along to *their* truth. And where's that got me…?
Deep down, I believe that everyone's experience is exceptional, their truth is important. The world would be a stale and lonely place if all that goodness was shushed up.
And you're right – life's way too short! 🙂
[…] But how much is too much? I’m guest posting over at Sensophy again this week, asking if Danielle LaPorte’s right: is transparency really sexy? […]
Transparency needs to be balanced with decorum & taste.
Having said that, one of the most tasteful approaches I know of is to balance saying what's honestly true, happening in the moment, right now, with politeness and tact.
Just letting it all hang out works great, but I prefer always making sure I'm thinking of the impacts of my words on others.
For example: I'm wondering, why are there not more comments on this post? Why are there not more visitors to Sensophy? This place is great!
Cheers to all.
"Transparency needs to be balanced with decorum & taste."
That's such a good point. I often think that's where I slipped up in that nightclub scenario. Emotions were running high anyway (I was 17 and alcohol-fuelled), and I don't remember being as dignified as I like to think I'd be these days (notice I called it the ugly cry). Mind you, nothing that happened was impolite or tactless to the other people involved. It was just too much for them. They were unprepared and clearly not as invested as I was. I like to think that such an unashamed outpouring would be met with much more understanding by the right person 🙂
I do like your point about decorum and taste, though. It made me think of those reality show judges who say they're not being nasty, they're just being honest. But isn't honesty without compassion just downright rudeness? Words are so powerful. I like that you always consider the impact your words might have on the people hearing them.
Saying that, your words here were very much appreciated! Thank you for sharing 🙂