I recently read “After Dark” by Haruki Murakami, not because I was interested in the plot or the cover art appealed to me, but because I wanted to be the intellectual who reads Murakami. And if anyone asks my opinion on it, I, of course, won’t admit that I needed to scour Reddit threads explaining the ending because I was so utterly confused. No, to any bibliophile, I will express the only appropriate stance: “I loved it, and I wonder what took me so long to read his work.”

I wouldn’t call this “fake.” Rather, it’s a performance where I am strategically aligning my opinions with those of more seasoned individuals to garner their respect and social validation, even if it’s at the expense of my conviction — or you can call it being fake. 

Recently, I’ve realized that I often compare myself to others who share similar interests to gauge their opinions and conform to the standards they have set due to the fear of being judged. After all, they must know better because their favorite author is Murakami and not romance author Emily Henry. While the former makes you ponder deep existential themes, the latter makes you wonder how every protagonist stumbles across a gorgeous man who is just waiting to fall head over heels for her.

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I don’t necessarily think this performance is all bad. By engaging with people with different views, I am exposed to new areas I know very little about. 

Perhaps, if I didn’t act out of a fear of being looked down upon, but rather out of genuine curiosity and desire to push beyond my comfort zone, it would be okay to perform.

I wish I had read Murakami to form my own opinion on his work rather than to agree with the intellectuals. After that, if I still enjoyed his work and wanted to discuss how he uses simple language to blend magic and real life, that would be great. Or if I wanted to discuss how the ending was abrupt and there are other authors with a similar writing style but more engaging stories, that would be okay, too. Even in the second scenario, I learned something new about myself: I don’t enjoy Murakami. 

However, at the same time, performance can also prevent you from trying new things. For example, I’ve always enjoyed baking. However, if you think I mean that I can make a six-foot chocolate and caramel croquembouche with pistachio praline or I know what browning butter is, you are mistaken. I mean I enjoy following a YouTube recipe and creating a simple chocolate cake five hours later. 

Yet, having heard about multiple people’s impressive baking skills (okay, the croquembouche was an exaggeration), I’ve stopped mentioning that I enjoy baking because I am intimidated by them. 

When my aunt mentioned that she wanted me to bake her a cake, I was surprised because I forgot that people knew that I used to enjoy baking — it’s been a while since I spoke about that part of me. The inherently competitive person in me knows I’ve lost, so why bother even competing? In these scenarios, I not only skip performing, but I also don’t tell people I was ever auditioning for the part. I’d much rather sit at home with my chocolate cake with no icing. 

Maybe I should now end this article by encouraging you to embrace your true self and ignore the haters. But, honestly, I can’t say that. If you want to and can embrace your authentic self, I am proud of you. But if you are putting up a performance and are not confident, I understand that, too. I think you are cool, but the confidence has to come from you, and it takes time. Just avoid performing for others’ approval of your opinions and perform to see if you approve and agree with theirs.

Edhita Singhal is a junior writing about life lessons she has learned in college in her column, “Thinking Out Loud,” which runs every other Wednesday.