Authenticity

How can we, as parents and teachers, truly be in relationship with the word authentic? What does it actually mean to be authentic? I know that in earlier years I often believed I was being authentic, but looking back now, I can see that it wasn’t quite true authenticity. It was more a desire to be authentic - or perhaps a desire to be seen as authentic.

The other morning, after dropping my children at school, I was walking across the pedestrian crossing when a mum smiled at me and said, “You always have a smile on your face.” The irony was that our morning had been anything but smooth. We were running late, the children were slow with everything, and I felt frustrated, stressed, and behind for work. Standing there, I realised how little anyone sees of what happens before we walk through the school gate. People only see the version of us that arrives.

A past version of me would have taken that comment as a compliment. I would have felt affirmed in being seen as the mum who has it all together - who says yes to everything, who looks grounded and non-reactive, who appears to be doing it well. But this time, I laughed and said, “If only you knew how my morning went.” We both laughed - that shared, knowing laugh between two people who understand exactly what that feels like.

Since that moment, I’ve felt more connected to that mum. Not because I looked like I had it together, but because I showed something real. I shared the truth of the morning, and that is what creates connection - when we recognise ourselves in one another, when we allow vulnerability, when we stop performing and start relating.

Recently, I ran the Steiner Playgroup in Hastings, a role I held for eighteen months. While playgroups are often parent-run, maintaining the Steiner special character requires a coordinator. Playgroup is a space where parents come together so their children can socialise, but also so adults can rest, connect, and breathe. During my time there, I met parents from all walks of life - first-time parents, families with children already in kindergarten or school, blended families, same-sex parents, families with one child or many. Such a rich tapestry of stories.

Although I am still early in my own parenting journey, with children aged eight and six, being alongside first-time mums with their babies showed me how far I’ve already grown - and gave me a glimpse into how much growth still lies ahead for each of them. One mum in particular stood out. She had just had her first baby, and it was clear she felt exposed, worried about how she was being perceived. We all carry this to some degree, but for her it felt especially present. She seemed anxious about being judged by others, and I felt a strong wish for her to experience the essence of our playgroup - a space cultivated with respect, kindness, love, and care. Values that are not always present in every playgroup environment.

By my final session, she had been coming for almost a term. And she had begun to soften. She had started to sense the care and safety that surrounded her - perhaps something she hadn’t always known. On my last day, I gave an impromptu speech. I said, “This playgroup isn’t like other playgroups. This is a loving, caring space where each of us is seen and nurtured. I didn’t discover this playgroup until my second child was two, and I wish I’d had it earlier - so I could have softened, been vulnerable, and not felt the need to appear like I had everything together. This space is here for our children to play, but mostly it is for us parents - to exhale, to share a cup of tea, to talk about how hard last night was, or to cry about something we wish we’d handled differently.”

Leaving that playgroup was hard. Leaving a group of women - mostly women - who are standing at the beginning of the most transformative growth they may ever experience, whether they know it yet or not. That playgroup seeped authenticity. It showed what authenticity can look like when we are held in a safe and secure space where we are free to be our truest selves.

Because none of us arrive fully formed. None of us have it all together. We are human beings, learning how to be parents - often for the first time - while this role reshapes who we are in ways we couldn’t have imagined. That kind of becoming takes time, whether we are conscious of it or not.

This, to me, is one picture of authenticity.

I know there are many other ways authenticity shows itself - through the work we choose, the friendships we keep, the boundaries we hold. I know I will continue learning what this word means as life unfolds. When I observe older people, I often notice authenticity shining quietly through them, as though life has slowly stripped away what isn’t truly theirs. They often speak less, observe more, and don’t feel the need to prove or persuade. To me, this feels like a deep wisdom of authenticity.

Authenticity feels like something we grow toward - layer by layer - as we become more fully ourselves.

- Britt Aberahama