In a newsroom when the so-called “word of the year” dropped each December, it made for a really great “kicker,” meaning the light, fluffy story at the end of the newscast where the anchors try to make you forget about the death and destruction reported in the preceding 20 minutes. This year that word, selected by Merriam-Webster, struck a chord with me because I’ve been obsessed with it the last few months — authentic. It’s become a very powerful word in my mind because it connotes a person with the confidence to be exactly who they are in every moment of their being, that his/her actions are deliberate, meaningful and, despite the consequences, they choose authenticity. I want to be this.

Before I continue, I feel it’s important to note that the publisher of the Oxford English Dictionary also selects a word of the year. In an effort to make the dictionary relevant once again, thanks to autocorrect, they selected the “word” rizz. A team of so-called “language experts” selected rizz, a derivative of “charisma,” meaning a person’s ability to attract a romantic partner through style, charm or attractiveness. An inordinate number of teens throw rizz around like it’s an actual word so anyone over the age of 25 should not use this word if they wish to avoid side eye, eye rolls, gagging sounds or judgmental giggles. For extra credit, please look up the phrase “sticking out your gyat for the rizzler.” This is top-tier slang of the time.

Authentic is the only word I choose to recognize as the official word of the year. In a time of filters, Facetune and methodically curated Instagrams, realness is becoming an endangered trait. Years ago, when I believed it important to fit in, to have friends, I would tailor responses to merely ripples, never make waves. It’s no fun to be out on a boat when it’s smooth sailing instead of ricocheting off the wake. What was once go along to get along, swallow opinions, share smiles, is now say it, mean it, be honest but kind. It’s this approach that leads to deep, meaningful relationships.

Being authentic becomes increasingly important as we age to gain self-reflection and awareness that makes us tolerable to be around when we’re old. There’s power in acknowledging strengths and weaknesses while aligning actions with the values we want to live by. I think of my mother who walks around in her “Life is Better Buzzed” jacket and Ruth Bader Ginsburg T-shirt. She doesn’t back down from her genuine values. Because she is authentic, it makes her a role model not only for myself but also my teenage daughter. Raising children in a small town with expectations, it took her years to find that jacket.

Embracing authenticity is like the stretch marks we earn in pregnancy, the wrinkles from the sun and the gray streaks stretching throughout our hair; it’s the trophy of life experience. We start out as children glancing at our peers to know what to wear, whether “rizz” is still cool slang, what music to blast, all in an attempt to be accepted, to invent a person others can love. Different was never good. It’s the commitment to authenticity that showcases the lessons we learned in the decades of life knowing it doesn’t matter what I like or why I like it, it’s just what I want. It wasn’t until I broke down the meaning behind authenticity that I realized why my 10th grade English teacher, Mrs. Garrett, had me read the poem “Warning” by Jenny Joseph:

“When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves.”

I don’t know about the gloves, but brandy would be nice. When I am an old woman, I hope to be like a nice Limburger cheese, becoming smoother, more potent as I age, but immediately recognizable for what it is. The realness of our thoughts, actions and beliefs are a hard-fought achievement. This authenticity makes us trustworthy to those around us, knowing what we said in one situation is the exact same thing we’d say in a different one with different people.

Being authentic comes at a cost. We may lose those we love; we could feel embarrassed or isolated. For me, authenticity’s cost is paid by my children with their social cachet, especially since it appears not a single one is willing to employ go-along-to-get-along tactics. Despite the price tag, the freedom from needing no validation affords me the privilege to connect with those I really want to.

The journey toward authenticity is a lifelong process. Sure, I’m approaching 40, so my thoughts behind authenticity may be spurred by the ever-approaching midlife crisis. If that crisis is being honest with myself, my friends and my surroundings, I’m willing to fully embrace it. Professor and author Brené Brown discussed the power of vulnerability as a path to self-discovery and authenticity as we discover valuable insight in ourselves. That vulnerability doesn’t come cheap, but as Brown said, “Lean into the discomfort of the work.”

Authenticity isn’t a destination; it’s a journey that ends upon the great equalizer of death where we are striped down with no filters. Between now and that time, I want those around me to know they experienced the real Megan — the woman who believes “You’ve Got Mail” is the greatest movie ever made, who thinks religion is a divider not a uniter, regrets seeing so little of the world and often imagines fake arguments with people in the shower, practicing pithy comebacks she will never get the pleasure to use. Most of all, I want folks to know I love using “rizz” every chance I get.

Meg Sanders worked in broadcast journalism for over a decade but has since turned her life around to stay closer to home in Ogden. Her three children keep her indentured as a taxi driver, stylist and sanitation worker. In her free time, she likes to read, write, lift weights and go to concerts with her husband of 17 years.

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