I recently discovered something unsettling: I don't have an authentic voice.
The authentic voice I was searching for was singular. It would be unapologetic, confident, and wise. I could trust it to guide me when I felt lost, and count on it in any situation.
This search started in my high school English class, where I vividly remember sitting with the right answer stuck in my throat. Some classmates would mock Indian students by imitating Apu from The Simpsons, that exaggerated accent becoming their go-to joke. So most days, I stayed quiet. Even when I understood the material, even when I had something to say. It wasn't just about the accent - I felt caught between wanting to be heard and not wanting to be a punchline.
That early silence planted a seed of questioning that would grow for years: What was my real voice? How could I speak authentically without becoming a target? The quest to answer these questions would lead me down an unexpected path, like a monk seeking enlightenment.
Sitting. Breathing. Waiting.
Three days of silence. Then, months later, five. Each retreat longer than the last, as I sat cross-legged on cushions, watching breath float in, float out, while minutes stretched into hours and hours into days.
I hunted for my true voice in the silence. Surely it would emerge - pure, clear, unmistakable.
Between retreats, I devoured pages from books. Gandhi's transformation from whispers to roar, Siddhartha's river-journey to truth, Sakyong’s wisdom from making alliance with my mind.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Listen.
I wanted a sign. A clue. A direction. Something to lead me to that one pure voice buried beneath all others.
After a decade of fruitless searching, I realized I would never find my authentic voice.
What I discovered instead, amidst the still mind and calm body, was a mixtape of distinct voices, each with its own words of caution, judgment, care, doubts and wisdom.
What I learned is that the human mind didn't evolve to have one voice. It evolved to learn, to adapt, to absorb wisdom from others, and to express itself in multiple ways. A Mockingbird is remarkable because it can sing in many voices. Even in nature, the most complex animals are those with the largest repertoire of calls and responses.
The myth of finding our authentic self is so deeply embedded in our culture. 'Just be yourself,' we're told. 'Find your true voice.' This advice sounds exciting and liberating, but it actually created a lot of anxiety and self-doubt for me.
My internal dialogue sounds like collection of voices I've absorbed over time, each one ready with its own brand of wisdom, judgment, guidance:
There's my Mom's voice, with its mixture of anxiety and care: "Did you check the weather?" she'd ask before any trip. I used to roll my eyes, but now that same voice helps me pack umbrellas and backup plans.
My meditation teacher's voice, appearing in stressful moments: "Notice where you feel this in your body," he'd say, turning overwhelming meetings into opportunities to pause and breathe.
My wife's voice, cutting through my quick judgments: "Maybe they're going through something we don't know about." She's right - the team member who missed another meeting might be dealing with a sick kid at home.
These aren't just memories of conversations - they've become part of my internal dialogue, ready to offer their wisdom when needed. Like instruments in an orchestra, each voice had its unique contribution to make.
The real breakthrough came when I stopped resisting and started listening.
Instead of muting these voices, I learned to embrace them. Each had its moment:
My analytical voice, shaped by years of training, dissected problems with surgical precision.
My compassionate voice, echoing wise friends and teachers, saw the human heart of every situation.
My cautious voice kept me safe. My bold voice pushed boundaries. My playful voice found joy.
Together, they created something new: responses richer and more nuanced than any single voice could offer.
So how do we become skilled conductors of our internal orchestra?
Be curious rather than judgmental.
Instead of asking "Is this my real voice?" ask "What voice is this, and what wisdom does it carry?"
When solving a problem, notice whose approach are you channeling
When giving advice, whose wisdom are you drawing upon
Don't judge these influences - catalog them. Like a musician studying different genres.
Be intentional about developing new voices you admire. When I encounter someone with a quality I respect - whether it's a friend's humor, an author's clarity, or a leader's decisiveness - I study how their voice works. What makes it effective? How could it enhance my own authentic voice?
The real art lies in timing and proportion. Sometimes you need one voice to take the lead while others provide subtle backup. Other times, you need to rapidly switch between voices as a situation evolves. The more skillfully you conduct your chorus of voices, the more authentically 'you' you become. It's counter-intuitive, but true.
A master musician's unique style emerges not from playing a single note but from how they combine many notes, your authentic self emerges from how you blend your chorus of voices.
After years of trying to find my 'one true voice,' I feel more authentically myself now that I've embraced my internal chorus. When I write, I no longer worry if I sound like authors I've read - I consciously draw upon different influences to express what I want to say. When I parent, I don't second-guess when I catch myself using my mother's exact words - "at least taste it" - during dinner battles over vegetables with my son. These aren't just echoes of my parents; it's tried and tested notes passed down from generations, now played in my own key.
We all have the capacity to be more skilled conductors - we can draw upon multiple sources of wisdom and combine them in unique ways. Our authenticity isn't waiting to be found; it's waiting to be composed. So instead of searching for your authentic voice, build your chorus. The music you create will be uniquely yours, you alone can bring them together.
If you found this useful, please like, comment, or reply to let me know.
P.S. - If you know anyone who’s on the journey, consider sharing this.
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Huge thanks to the amazing editors of WoP (Write Of Passage). Their comments inspired me to stick with it. Thank you
and Jennifer ScottIt was hard to finish this essay with thousands of words on the topic swirling through my brain. I’m grateful for these talented writers who asked questions that brought out the insights.
Thank you!
Great job Amit! I enjoyed seeing bits of our conversation sprinkled through the essay. I also "vividly remember sitting with the right answer stuck in my throat" or sometimes with a question that I didn't have the courage to ask. This is a problem for so many of us, I wish I had read this back in high school or maybe earlier. Thanks for sharing this.
Amit! This is so true and yet somehow I missed this point as well. I love how you've woven these ideas of all our different voices (or parts of self as I often think of them) into the wholeness of who we are. Thank you for pushing through the doubts to write this piece. Another way to think about George Bernard shaw's quote: "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about Creating Yourself."