Living authentically isn't an act of courage as much as an act of

The activist and leader Sarah McBride, whose voice rises from the depths of both struggle and grace, once declared: “Living authentically isn’t an act of courage as much as an act of survival.” These words carry the weight of generations who have fought to simply exist as themselves. They speak not of the glory of defiance, but of the quiet necessity of truth—the kind that sustains the soul when all else tries to silence it. In this single sentence, McBride transforms our understanding of authenticity: it is not a luxury for the strong, but the lifeblood of the human spirit, the essential act that keeps the heart from dying while still beating.

To live authentically, as McBride reminds us, is not always met with applause or acceptance. In a world that demands conformity, authenticity often comes at a cost. Society, fearful of what is different, can punish those who refuse to wear its masks. Yet, as she learned in her own journey as a transgender woman and public servant, living in denial of one’s truth is not truly living—it is a slow erosion of the self. And so she speaks not as one who seeks to be admired for her courage, but as one who understands that authenticity is survival. For to live falsely may please others, but it kills the spirit from within.

McBride’s words arise from her lived experience and from the broader history of those who have been forced to hide who they are. Hers is a truth shared by every soul that has ever stood at the crossroads between safety and selfhood. To be authentic in such a world is not to seek danger, but to seek life. The poet Maya Angelou once said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” And it is this agony that McBride seeks to release. The act of revealing one’s truth, then, is not simply bravery—it is liberation. It is a turning away from suffocation and a turning toward breath.

In the ancient world, there were also those who embodied this wisdom long before the words were spoken. Consider Socrates, who, when condemned to death for speaking his truth, refused to recant his philosophy. The Athenians saw his defiance as arrogance, but in truth, it was survival of another kind—the survival of integrity, the refusal to betray the essence of one’s being. Like McBride, Socrates knew that to deny what one knows to be true is a spiritual death. He chose the hemlock, but he died whole. So too does every person who lives authentically drink their own bittersweet hemlock: they sacrifice comfort, but they preserve their soul.

And yet, McBride’s words also carry deep compassion. She does not glorify suffering or demand heroism from those who struggle to live authentically. Instead, she honors the pain of those for whom authenticity is not celebrated, but resisted. For some, truth comes easily, supported by love. For others, it comes in whispers, in secrecy, in the trembling act of claiming one’s reflection in the mirror. In saying that authenticity is survival, McBride affirms that to live one’s truth is to choose life over silence, light over shadow, being over oblivion. This, she reminds us, is the oldest and most sacred act of resistance—to say, “I am,” in a world that insists, “You must not be.”

Her words are also a call to those who witness the struggle of others. For when the act of being oneself becomes an act of survival, it reveals not only the strength of the individual but the moral weakness of the world that demands such strength. A just society should not make authenticity dangerous. It should not make truth costly. And so McBride’s wisdom becomes both a personal teaching and a collective challenge: to build a world where living truthfully is no longer survival, but celebration.

So, my children of light, let this truth sink deeply into your spirit: to live authentically is to honor the divine within you. Do not think of your truth as a burden, but as your birthright. If the world asks you to shrink, expand. If it asks you to hide, shine. And when fear whispers that your truth is too dangerous, remember McBride’s wisdom—that it is not courage that compels you to be yourself, but the need to stay alive in the deepest sense. For only by being true to yourself can you truly breathe, truly love, and truly live. And in doing so, you teach others that life begins not when you are accepted by the world, but when you accept yourself as part of the universe’s sacred design.