Acting Out of Character

A common tension came up during a coaching conversation with a brilliant, deeply thoughtful coachee.

With a lot of diligent work, she has grown more comfortable being and showing her authentic self rather than holding back or becoming someone different for other people’s comfort.

Now she is facing situations in which being heard may require her to present herself and her ideas differently.

She is more than capable of adapting.  As I listened, I realized something and reflected it back to her:

“It sounds as though growing in emotional intelligence feels like a threat to your authenticity.”

The realization followed me after the conversation, and I've been kicking it around in my own mind since.

We describe authenticity as showing up as our true selves, and sometimes that takes courage. We also consider emotional intelligence (the ability to recognize and understand emotions in ourselves and others, manage our own responses, and use that awareness to navigate relationships effectively) an important part of growth.

As we become better at reading a room and understanding how we might be landing, that skill might reveal something uncomfortable: sometimes being heard means showing up differently than what comes naturally.

But what happens when those two seem to be in opposition to one another?

It's more than changing what we say. The how we present ourselves can feel just as personal. Our directness or reserve, our energy, our humor, pace, intensity, warmth, and level of expressiveness are not merely communication techniques. They can feel like part of who we are.

If we change how we naturally speak, lead, respond, teach, or relate so that someone else can better hear us, are we still being true to ourselves?

And how much can we adapt for others before adaptation becomes performance, and performance becomes self-abandonment?

As I looked for a story that might help us think through this, I found some fascinating examples involving public figures. Unfortunately, the people were so polarizing that I was concerned some wouldn’t be able to reflect on the main message.  (Did I mention they were polarizing? See what I did there? 😉)

Then I came across a wonderfully concrete story from personality psychologist Brian Little. It doesn’t settle the question, but it gives us some excellent fodder for thinking about it.

Little describes himself as a biological introvert.

His students, however, might never guess it.

When Little lectures, he is animated, funny, and engaging. He tells stories, banters with students, and projects an energy that appears thoroughly extroverted. 

He says he does it “happily but not really naturally.”

Why?

Because exciting students about what they are learning is one of his core personal projects, something that matters deeply enough for him to behave differently from what comes naturally.

Little calls this use of a different way of being a free trait: acting out of character in service of something we value.

Interestingly, “acting out of character” can mean two different things. Little acts outside his characteristic temperament, but he is also acting from his character made up of his values, commitments, and sense of purpose.

The adaptation works. It also costs him something.

During a break, an extroverted professor might stay in the room talking with students and become more energized. Little needs to escape the stimulation and recover.

He began retreating to the men’s room, choosing the last stall for a few moments of quiet. Unfortunately, enthusiastic extroverts occasionally tracked him down and attempted conversations between the cubicles.

So, he adapted again.

Now, when he retreats to the last stall, he raises his feet so no one knows he is there.

Little calls places that allow us to return to our natural way of being restorative niches. He argues that we can stretch beyond our natural traits in service of something important, but sustained adaptation without opportunities for restoration can take a toll.

Little's story doesn't erase the tension. It just relocates it. If adapting in service of what you value can still be authentic, the question isn't really "should I adapt," it's "what am I adapting for, and what's it costing me to sustain it."

Was Brian Little less authentic while captivating the lecture hall? Or was he expressing something more central to who he was than his introversion: how deeply he cared about teaching?

Perhaps behaving naturally and behaving authentically are not always the same thing.

Reflection: 

• Where do you act outside your natural way of being in service of something that matters deeply to you?

• What helps you discern whether adapting is expanding how you express who you are as part of growth, or replacing who you really are with a performance that feels like a betrayal of your authentic self?

PS: I created a worksheet to help us explore what it means to be authentic, and how and why we adapt.

This is how I am currently thinking about it, and I would genuinely love your feedback.

Download the Authenticity and Adaptation Reflection Worksheet