On being authentic and Donald Trump

When I got serious about blogging back in 2010 (with hopes of making some money), I read and heard a lot of advice that went like this:

Be authentic. Be yourself. Be authentic. Authentic. Authentic. Authentic. Authentic. Authentic!

At first, I dove right in. Authentic? Me? Of course. I am who I say I am. I’m honest. I don’t lie. I don’t cheat. I run an upright business as a freelance writer, editor, and writing coach. And I wrote blog posts about what I believe, which is that good grammar and punctuation are essential to good writing.

My most popular posts are those that unravel common writing conundrums in purely factual terms. Least favorite are motivational posts in which I share some of my own challenges and how I’ve overcome them.

I wondered: are the popular posts (measured by page visits and social shares) favorites because busy writers are looking for specific information? And are the posts in which I’m more personal (more authentic?) not quite as appealing because readers don’t relate well with me? Do I not seem authentic?

But something else nagged at me.

What does authentic mean? What does authenticity really mean?

If authenticity means interweaving everything I write with some element of who I am, I sure as hell wasn’t going to offer up my private life for the dear folks on the interwebs to muse over.

But maybe I’ve got it wrong. Does being authentic mean acting out whatever you happen to feel that day? Even when you’re pissed off to the nth degree? Grieving over the loss of a loved one? In la-la land due to a fabulous date the night before? I don’t think so. But if that’s who I am that day, isn’t that for real? Honest to goodness the real, authentic me? Should I have been writing like that?

Let’s take a look at someone else for a moment.

Let’s take a look at that guy who is currently president of the United States. Donny. Heh.

I’m from the Philadelphia area — Southern New Jersey, to be specific — so he’s been a fixture in my life for a very long time, if only because of the enormous billboards that featured his mug and those of his current marital squeezes. They were everywhere, unavoidable. Ads for his tacky-assed casinos in Atlantic City. Supermarket tabloids featuring his face, his stories, the gossip, and his latest escapades. The man sure does love the limelight, no matter how cheap and tawdry that limelight is.

Is he authentic?

Is President Donald Trump authentic?

Sure. Of course he is.

Donald Trump is 100% authentically himself whether he’s lying his ass off, delivering a nicey-nice prepared speech, slamming people he doesn’t like, mocking entire groups of people, or offering “warm and personal” consolation to the Rabbi whose Tree of Life synagogue recently lost 11 members to a hate crime — yet another mass shooting.

Whether Trump’s truly capable of caring about anyone can be debated; only his family knows for sure (though I don’t know whether they’re the best judges, either). Regardless, no matter how Trump behaves, no matter how anyone judges him, he’s authentic. Even if he’s a great actor, he’s authentic. He is always himself even if that “self” flips from one opinion to another in the blink of an eye. That’s him.

Now let’s get really serious here.

Trump is a Gemini with Leo rising and a Sagittarius moon. God help us all.

Geminis are known to flip-flop drastically between one thing and another. You might think they’re believers in something and SHAZAM! They have something else up their sleeve that negates everything else. They often contradict themselves and others and, at best, they have two distinct sides of their personalities.

Leos, quite simply, are bossy. Leaders at best, narcissistic egomaniacs, at worst.

Sagittarians? Well, I’m a Sagittarian, and trust me, we’re the worst of the lot. I would know. On good days, we’ll calmly tear down a Leo with well-reasoned logic. We aren’t ruffled by Gemini’s flip-flops, either. No, we’re too independent. We don’t give a shit about it anyway, when all is said and done — we have better things to do. Besides, we’re smarter than them, and if we want to, we’ll easily show them the error of their ways, brush our hands off daintily, and saunter into the sunset.

Sagittarians are often successful with whatever we do whether in journalism, creative writing, the arts, acting and performing, and other innovative ventures. But when things get bad, we’ll drink ourselves silly, hurt ourselves and others, and write a novel or screenplay about it years later. We’re usually quite talented and love to travel, but we can be scattered, disorganized, and easily distracted. Many Sagittarians are total train wrecks, hopping from one adventure to another, overwhelmed with their potential and the myriad choices they face.

Lucky me, I had the moon in Taurus when I was born, and that’s what keeps me somewhat grounded. Relatively level headed. Fairly sensible. If I even believe all this stuff.

Here’s the thing about being authentic: people show you only what they want you to see.

And no matter what that is, it’s all authentic. Even hiding big parts of themselves is authentic — hey, that’s them, you know? Pouring out their life stories to anyone who will listen is as authentic as keeping it private.

If I write in a formal, academic style for a university research paper, am I being authentic? If I write in a more casual, bantering way, and if I litter my sentences with F-bombs and slang, am I being authentic? Either way, the answer is of course. Just like an interior designer can do up your home with cute country or urban chic, they’re authentic. So they can do cluttered country charm and sleek minimalist modern. So?

Con artists? Liars? Cheats? Racists? Misogynists? Of course they’re authentic. That’s who they are. Someone like Trump who apparently cares only about fortune and fame? Only cares about himself? That’s authentic too. I mean, he is who he is. Take it or leave it.

The thing here that’s not authentic is the word authentic.

At least in the way it’s thrown around casually, authentic has no meaning. Everyone must attach the meaning of our choice to the word.

Authenticity can be defined more specifically, of course, by psychologists and social workers.

“Being authentic means coming from a real place within. It is when our actions and words are congruent with our beliefs and values. It is being ourselves, not an imitation of what we think we should be or have been told we should be. There is no ‘should’ in authentic.”

That’s easy to understand, on one hand: making conscious choices about who and what you are is authentic. On the other hand, what is this “real place within?” “Real” as opposed to what? Not real? Make-believe?

If Trump’s values say lies are quite all right, and he lies regularly, isn’t that being authentic? Being true to himself?

Everyone is authentic. Authentically themselves, whether they’re full of shit, admirably true to their values (which may or may not be a good thing, as values go), or somewhere in between.

So toss out the over-used word authentic unless you’re talking about an authentic piece of furniture from the 1500s. An authentic dinosaur bone. An authentic piece of pottery from Pompeii. Or an authentic shark’s tooth from 10,000 years ago.

Those things are authentic. Hopefully. But people are so complex that we can’t be authentic all at one time. But even if we aren’t 100% authentic (whatever that means), who we are at any given moment is always authentic. This is me, this is what you’re getting. It’s all I have. This is for real. And even if I’m lying my ass off, if I’m full of shit, hey. That’s me. That’s authentic.

See how that works? It doesn’t. The word just doesn’t work when it comes to describing people and their behavior. Everyone is authentic and, at the same time, they’re not. Trump is authentic because he is who he is, but at the same time he’s not authentic to who he was on Monday since he’s different on Wednesday. But does he even know what his true, authentic self is?

Because what is it? What does being authentic mean?

If Trump found Jesus, Buddha, or a damned good therapist and made a complete one-eighty, would that be authentic? Could it be?

We can only offer a slice of all that we are, at any given moment. I’m authentic. You’re authentic. And — love him or hate him — Donald Trump is 100% authentic too.