When Performance Becomes Our Armor

We’ve grown quick to label things as “performative”—activism, allyship, apologies, vulnerability. But what if that label says more about our lack of curiosity than the other person’s authenticity?

What we call performative is often just a human being trying to survive.

In my work with athletes, executives, and teams, I see this all the time. A player giving a post-game speech they don’t fully believe. A leader signaling support for a cause they haven’t fully embodied. A CEO mimicking the language of culture while privately fearing they’ll lose control.

Are they faking it? Maybe. But more often, they’re performing because performing kept them safe.

I’ll say that again. We perform because it keeps us safe.

The Neuroscience Behind the Performance

From a neurological perspective, performance under pressure is often a survival response. The brain’s amygdala, our emotional alarm system, is constantly scanning for threats—not just physical threats, but social ones too. Rejection, criticism, or humiliation light up the same neural pathways as physical pain.

When the brain detects danger, the nervous system goes into defense mode. According to Dr. Stephen Porges’ Polyvagal Theory, we don’t just fight or flee. Sometimes we fawn—we over-function, overcompensate, or over-perform to maintain safety and connection.

You’ve probably noticed it.
The player doing “the right thing” in the media and holding in what they really want to say.
The leader preaching vulnerability but never practicing it in real life.
The teammate talking about values in meetings but not living them in practice or in games.

These aren’t always signs of hypocrisy. Sometimes, they’re signs of a person in survival mode—trying to avoid disconnection, discipline, or dismissal. As Dr. Dan Siegel puts it: “Where there is fear, there is no integration. No growth. No real connection.”

When Celebrities Cry…

Not too long ago, Selena Gomez posted an emotional video about the deportation of undocumented immigrants in the U.S. She cried on camera. She expressed pain. And the internet called her “performative.”

But let’s be real: We don’t know if it was authentic or not. And that’s the point.
If it was sincere, shame on us for judging her pain.
If it was performative, shame on us for not asking why someone might feel the need to cry publicly just to be believed.

What if her tears—whether authentic or adaptive—were a survival response? A way of saying, “See me. Hear me. Believe me.”

High performers—athletes, executives, coaches—live under a constant microscope. In these worlds, image is currency.

Vulnerability is risky. Conformity can feel like protection.

So we perform because it’s subconscious mental strategy. It helps us win.

How?
It’s a win to preserve contracts.
It’s a win to please the crowd
It’s a win to stay in favor with leadership
It’s a win to avoid the label of “difficult,” “emotional,” or “uncommitted”
I want to be clear. These are short term wins with long term consequences.

Because here’s the thing—just because someone’s performing doesn’t mean they’re leading. And it definitely doesn’t mean it’s sustainable. The best leaders and teammates I’ve worked with know how to spot the difference between showing up for approval and showing up with real presence.

They can feel it when a teammate is saying all the “right” things, but something’s off. They notice when a player’s energy is performative—because deep down, they don’t feel safe. They pick up when a coach is yelling, not from strategy, but from a fear of losing control. And instead of reacting with blame, they lean in with curiosity. Instead of rushing to correct, they slow down to connect.

Performance is often just the signal. The root runs deeper—fear, disconnection, trauma, or old conditioning trying to protect something tender.

If we want authenticity, we must first create psychological safety—a space where people can show up real without fear of being punished for it.

Because authenticity isn’t pulled out of people—it’s drawn out of people.
And if we want more of it, we need less judgment and more understanding.
Judgment keeps people stuck.
Curiosity sets them free.