The Search for Authentic Belonging
Are we truly free? The hidden conformity in individualistic and collectivist societies. Let’s find the middle path, becoming unique without losing connection
"Be yourself."
It sounds simple. A core truth. A universal principle.
Yet, in practice, most people don’t feel safe enough to do it.
Western culture glorifies individuality. You’re supposed to carve your own path, define your own identity, stand apart from the crowd. It’s a land of personal brands, self-made entrepreneurs, and radical self-expression.
But if you look closely, most people still conform. Everyone wears the same “unique” styles. Everyone performs a socially acceptable kind of self-expression. Everyone follows invisible scripts for how to succeed, how to belong, how to be seen as “authentically themselves”—but not too much.
In much of Asia, the emphasis is flipped: collectivism over the self. From childhood, people are taught to honor family, preserve social harmony, and fit within a structure greater than themselves. Individual ambition exists, but it is shaped by communal expectations.
But here’s where things get interesting: both of these cultural models, in their own way, enforce conformity:
The U.S. rewards individualism—but within predefined boundaries.
Collectivist cultures reward harmony—but only if you conform to expected roles.
Both create silent pressures to fit in.
And so, people perform their lives, carefully calculating which parts of themselves are socially acceptable.
Philosopher Robert Chapman calls this the "Empire of Normality"—the vast, often invisible set of social expectations that dictate who is considered functional, valuable, and "normal" in society. We’re told to be unique, but only within certain boundaries; to be authentic, but only in ways that fit existing cultural scripts. Those who deviate too much—whether in thought, identity, or way of being—find themselves subtly, or explicitly, pushed to the margins.
So here’s the real question:
Where are the societies that allow people to be both truly unique and deeply connected?
Mapping This Paradox
If you visualize this tension as a grid, a pattern emerges:
The missing quadrant: Societies that allow deep individuality and deep communal belonging.
I’ve spent much of my life navigating different worlds, trying to find this balance.
I grew up as a third-culture kid, raised across six countries on five continents by the age of eleven. I spoke five languages, forgot three more, and moved between cultures like a chameleon.
And yet, no matter where I went, I felt it: the pressure to fit in. The corporate world expects a certain kind of professional mask. The diplomatic world demands polished neutrality. The spiritual world values authenticity—but only the kind that fits within its paradigm.
It wasn’t until I found music, especially drum circles, and my closest friendships and relationships that I experienced what real authenticity could feel like. A space where I could show up fully, without hiding, without filtering.
Most of us intuitively know there’s a societal cost to being our true selves. And so, we adapt. We wear masks. We compartmentalize.
Not because we want to, but because experience has taught us:
Revealing too much of yourself can be risky.
Certain truths about who you are may lead to exile, judgment, or rejection.
It’s safer to play the role expected of you than to challenge the system.
This is why so many of us feel a quiet, persistent tension between who we are and who we have to be.
This isn’t just a cultural problem. It’s a psychological one.
The Psychological Cost of This Tension
Alienation vs. Belonging: Why We Suffer
There’s a cost to this paradox. It shapes how we see ourselves, how we relate to others, and how we experience the world.
In individualistic cultures, people are told they must “do it alone.” Radical self-reliance is the ideal. But this often leads to loneliness, disconnection, and a crushing sense of existential anxiety.
In collectivist cultures, people are given a clear place in society, but it comes at the cost of personal autonomy. The need to conform can suffocate the soul.
And then there are those of us who exist between worlds.
I’ve felt this tension my whole life.
I’ve played the diplomat, the corporate strategist, the yogi, the storyteller. I’ve adapted to fit in. But in every setting, I’ve also felt the quiet pull of expectation:
"You can belong here, but only if you play the role we expect."
And so, the desire to be accepted fights against the desire to be whole.
This isn’t just my story—it’s a modern human story.
Gabor Maté argues that much of modern suffering comes from a fundamental distortion: we confuse being "normal" with being well. We are conditioned to suppress parts of ourselves not because they are wrong, but because they are inconvenient to societal expectations. As a result, many of us carry an unspoken wound—the sense that our true selves are somehow unacceptable. And so, we adapt, we mask, we perform. But in doing so, we often lose touch with who we actually are.
Whether we realize it or not, we’re all navigating this tension between self and society, between standing out and fitting in.
And this is where Moloch creeps in.
Moloch, the force of invisible systemic pressures that make people compete, optimize, and sacrifice their humanity for survival. The force that keeps individuals afraid to break free. The force that whispers:
"If you reveal your true self, you will lose everything."
But that’s a topic for another post.
For now, the real question is:
How do we escape this false choice? How do we create spaces where people can be both fully themselves and deeply connected?
Social Media and the Illusion of Individualism
If modern society truly valued uniqueness, wouldn’t social media be the ultimate playground for self-expression?
At first glance, it seems like it is. Millions of people broadcasting their lives, their thoughts, their creations. A digital landscape where anyone can have a voice, where the outsider can finally be seen.
But look deeper, and a different reality emerges.
Social media doesn’t foster true individuality. It manufactures algorithmic conformity.
Trendy uniqueness – People believe they’re expressing themselves, but most are following pre-approved trends. Fashion, aesthetics, self-help mantras, political opinions—all subtly shaped by what the algorithm rewards.
The performance of authenticity – Instead of genuine self-expression, we get curated personalities optimized for social approval. Even rebellion is packaged in a way that’s palatable for engagement metrics.
The commodification of identity – Once an identity becomes marketable, it ceases to be radical. Subcultures, once spaces of true alternative thinking, are quickly absorbed and sold back to us as brands.
We think we’re standing out. But we’re really just choosing from a set of pre-approved identities.
And here’s the cruel part: social media feeds both individualism and collectivism in their most hollow forms.
It gives us a taste of belonging—but only if we perform a version of ourselves that others will like.
It gives us a taste of individuality—but only within the confines of the latest trend cycle.
This is why so many people feel lost in digital spaces. Social media promises connection but delivers comparison. It promises self-expression but rewards conformity.
So if we can’t find true uniqueness in hyper-individualistic spaces, where do we look?
A Collective Awakening
Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh once said:
"The next Buddha may not be an individual. The next Buddha may be a sangha."
A sangha is a spiritual community—a collective of seekers who support each other’s growth. It’s a model that values individual awakening within a shared structure.
This is the shift we need: a culture that encourages self-actualization while reinforcing deep connection.
Think about the spaces where you’ve felt most alive. Were they places where you stood completely alone? Or were they communities where you could be your full self without fear of rejection?
For me, I’ve found glimpses of this in drum circles, deep friendships, and certain sacred spaces. These were places where I could express myself fully—where my individuality wasn’t a barrier to belonging, but a doorway into something greater.
Most of us have felt this somewhere—a fleeting moment when we were seen and accepted, without having to compromise ourselves.
But those moments are rare.
Most of society is structured to keep us in the either/or trap: you can be accepted or you can be yourself, but not both.
Thich Nhat Hanh’s vision suggests that the way forward isn’t to reject connection or to reject individuality. It’s to create new models of community where both can exist.
The question is: how do we build that?
The Myth of Individualism vs. Collectivism
I’ve spent the last two years experimenting with exactly this kind of space.
I’ve stewarded a few online groups—each an attempt, in its own way, to cultivate a culture that prizes uniqueness while preserving collective ethos. A weekly men’s group, a modern mystery school of sorts, and more recently, a larger community centered around conscious business.
With the first two, something interesting started happening: rather than relying on a single leader, self-leadership began to emerge. Different members stepped up—sometimes to hold space, sometimes to propose new initiatives, sometimes to challenge existing norms. The group became an ecosystem of co-creation, rather than a hierarchy.
The autonomy of each person was prized and protected—yet trust and collaboration deepened, not weakened. Open sharing became a currency of belonging. Relationship, not obligation, became the glue that held us together.
And yet, as we deepened, we ran into a challenge.
Boundaries.
At one point, it became clear that certain worldviews—certain ways of relating to the space—were at odds. The tension forced the group into a conversation about structure, coherence, and what actually holds a community together. Can a space remain truly open and still have a core? What’s the difference between diversity and fragmentation? Between freedom and the need for shared norms?
This process is still unfolding.
But it’s made one thing clear: a new kind of culture is possible. One where authenticity and connection aren’t at odds—but fuel each other.
And maybe, the real work isn’t just finding these spaces. It’s creating them.
The Call for Authentic Belonging
Most societies don’t truly encourage individuality, no matter how much they claim to. They encourage a certain kind of conformity—whether through social norms, consumer trends, or political ideologies.
And so, most people walk through life masking their true selves.
We trade our authenticity for safety. We shape-shift to fit in. We learn the unspoken rules, the acceptable opinions, the boundaries of what can and cannot be expressed.
But what if we didn’t have to choose?
What if belonging wasn’t something we earned by suppressing ourselves?
What if individuality wasn’t something we had to fight for alone?
Real belonging is when we stand fully in our truth while remaining in deep relationship with the whole. But this isn’t just a theory—it’s a practice. And the world is already shifting in this direction.
We see glimpses of this new paradigm in emerging wisdom-based communities, in regenerative social networks, in healing movements that bridge ancient traditions and modern innovation. We see it in those who dare to create spaces where radical authenticity and deep interconnectedness become one.
This is the call—not just to understand the tension, but to embody the next evolution of it.
And maybe the future belongs to those who dare to live it into existence.
Insightful. Thanks for sharing.