Why “Just Be Yourself” Is Terrible Advice
“Just be yourself” is one of those phrases people offer with good intentions. It sounds comforting, simple, even wise. But when you pause and really consider it, it often creates more confusion than clarity. In some contexts, it can even be shaming or dismissive.
Here’s why it often doesn’t help - and what might work better.
The idea of a single self is misleading
The phrase assumes we each have a neat, knowable identity we can step into on demand. But in reality, most of us are layered and shifting. We show up differently depending on context, energy, company, mood, safety, and history. We’re made up of parts - some protective, in fact mostly protective depending on how you view them, some playful, some wounded, some deeply wise and some downright awkward.
So when someone says, “just be yourself,” it can leave us feeling like we’ve missed something. Be which self? The one I am when I’m with close friends? The one I’ve been trained to perform in professional settings? The one who’s holding it all together when things feel like they’re falling apart? All of them?
That pressure to locate and present a singular, authentic self can lead to even more self-doubt. Especially for people who are neurodivergent, trauma-affected or highly sensitive and it can feel more like a trap than support.
It ignores the power of context
We’re not fixed people. We are relational beings, constantly adjusting, sensing, shaping, holding things back or offering them forward. This is not inauthentic. It’s human. It’s adaptive.
You might speak more directly in one setting and soften your words in another. You might show humour or be loud in some spaces and stay quiet in others. The self is fluid and relational, not a solo performance. “Just be yourself” ignores the dance we’re all doing in real time.
A more helpful lens might be: who do I feel safe enough to be here?
It overlooks emotional safety
Often, people are told to “just be themselves” at moments when they don’t feel emotionally safe. They might be in a new environment, navigating difference, or working hard to mask their discomfort. For someone who’s had to camouflage or self-censor, being themselves is not always an option. It’s a risk.
Telling someone to “just be yourself” without first creating a sense of safety can feel more like a demand than an invitation.
A more helpful response might be: “You don’t have to bring all of yourself right now. What feels safe enough to show up here? The one who doesn’t need to perform necessarily”.
It lacks depth and curiosity
The phrase offers no guidance or reflection. It can feel like an easy escape from sitting with someone’s uncertainty. When someone is unsure of who to be or how to act, what they usually need is space to reflect, not a slogan to follow.
Questions that open that reflection might sound like:
What are you trying to get right in this moment?
Is there a part of you that’s feeling too exposed?
What part of you is leading right now, and is that working for you?
How can you tell that one part to pipe down?!
These questions make space for someone to notice what’s happening, rather than perform what they think they’re supposed to be.
It can shut people down
Sometimes the phrase is used when someone’s visibly struggling - stumbling over their words, adjusting to a new group, or revealing vulnerability. “Just be yourself” is often meant to soothe, but it can unintentionally signal that their current struggle is unwelcome and if you can’t be the one you think you’re supposed to be - is that wrong?
People don’t need to be fixed in those moments. They need presence. Attunement. A sense that they can exist in the awkwardness and still be met with care.
So what helps instead?
Sometimes the most supportive thing is simply saying, “You’re allowed to be nervous,” or “You don’t have to know what to say - we’ve got time.”
Rather than urging someone to “be themselves,” offer curiosity and connection. Instead of pushing for authenticity, invite exploration.
Try asking:
What version of you feels most real in this moment?
What are you protecting, and does that part need something?
What would feel like a relief to let go of here?
These kinds of questions honour the complexity of being human. They don’t flatten or rush someone into performing a polished version of themselves. They offer room to breathe, reflect, and emerge in their own time.
And maybe that’s the real invitation. Not to “just be yourself,” but to meet yourself gently and find ways to come forward, piece by piece, with safety and support.
Struggling to be yourself? Book a therapy session with me.
