Who are we, really? How much of our true selves do we allow the world to see? And at what cost do we keep the rest hidden?

For much of my childhood, I believed covering was the price of belonging. If I blended in, I would be accepted. I wished away my Indian heritage. I longed for blonde hair. I pressed pencils into my cheeks, desperate to carve dimples into my face, as if that tiny detail could unlock the acceptance I craved.

What began as small adjustments, how I spoke, how I dressed, what I valued, slowly took me further from myself. I let external expectations define my worth. I measured myself against someone else’s standards. With each compromise, I felt a little more lost. It happened so gradually that I didn’t notice until I no longer recognised the person staring back at me.

I had a map, but I let others chart my course. The desire to fit in, to chase the next shiny thing, to be the version of myself that others found palatable pulled me away from my centre. No one forced me to change. I did it willingly. As I scrambled for more, I lost sight of what was already enough. One day, I woke up in a life that didn’t feel like mine. The self I had carefully built no longer felt like home.

That realisation shook me. In that moment, I had a choice. To continue down a path that was never truly mine or begin the painstaking work of uncovering the parts of me I had buried. It wasn’t easy. I had to stand still in my discomfort, unlearn years of conditioning, and reclaim my voice. But as I did, I discovered the through line of who I had always been. A multi-faceted, complex identity waited for me beneath the layers of performance and adaptation.

Once I recognised it, everything shifted. My choices changed. I stopped trying to conform to a narrative that wasn’t mine. I started listening to what I valued. That was the moment I stopped chasing belonging and started embodying it.

I recently listened to Professor of Constitutional Law, Kenji Yoshino speak about his work on Hidden Brain (Dropping the Mask | Hidden Brain Media). Kenji studies the concept of covering, the ways in which we consciously or unconsciously hide parts of ourselves to fit in.

Of course, not all covering is harmful. Some forms are neutral or even necessary. Consider someone who prides themselves on being blunt. If that bluntness causes offense, their boss might ask them to soften their approach. They protest, “But this is just who I am!” The boss replies, “We follow certain norms of kindness here. You can be clear and kind.” In this case, covering is not suppression, it is a bridge to deeper connection.

But what happens when covering demands we silence the most vital parts of who we are? When it asks us to trade authenticity for approval? That is where we lose ourselves. That is where we must draw the line.

Over time, I have learned to make my goals clearer, more public, and more ambitious. I define my intent and invite others to walk with me. People rally behind a vision they can see. They follow those who show up fully as themselves.

And now, I turn to you. Where are you covering? Where have you abandoned yourself in the pursuit of acceptance? More importantly, what parts of you are ready to be uncovered?

Uncovering does not mean revealing everything to everyone. It means knowing which parts of yourself you refuse to mute. It means choosing, with intention, to stand fully in who you are. Because the world doesn’t need a carefully curated version of you.

The world needs you.