Being Vulnerable vs. Doing Vulnerability: The Soft Sell That’s Getting Louder
Exploring the quiet cost of performative vulnerability in leadership, content, and real connection
You’ve seen the post.
“I’m in my 30s and not afraid to admit…”
“Here’s the real reason I broke down.”
“Let me tell you about the time I lost everything.”
The photo is raw. The story is gripping. The likes flood in. The comments fill with heart emojis and paragraphs of “thank you for sharing this.”
And yet… nothing comes back.
That’s the first sign.
The Rise of Performative Vulnerability
Somewhere along the way, vulnerability became a strategy.
And I say that as someone who’s used it publicly, intentionally, and at times, maybe even manipulatively. Not maliciously. But still.
It turns out that writing a post while listening to Bon Iver doesn’t make it any more noble.
I’ve written things that were honest while fully aware of what that honesty might generate. Sometimes, I even tell myself, “If I feel it, it’s real,” while still glancing at the numbers after I post.
I’ve thanked strangers for saying my story gave them courage, even as I wondered if I’d hit the vulnerability quota for the quarter. Like there’s some content calendar in the cloud that’s going to cut me off.
And sure, I’m an executive coach. Vulnerability isn’t just encouraged in my line of work, it’s expected. It’s how people sniff out whether I’m the real deal. And I’ll admit it: I always pass. With flying colors.
Bonus points if I cry.
Which makes writing this carefully, intentionally, and yes, with SEO in mind feel like its own quiet contradiction. Nothing says “raw and real” like keyword optimization.
But here’s what I’ve come to realize:
There’s a difference between being vulnerable and doing vulnerability.
And when the latter takes over, we cross into performative vulnerability.
The Cost of Performative Vulnerability as a Content Strategy
Being vulnerable is unscripted. It shows up in your voice when you say “I don’t know” in a room that expects answers. It’s quiet. Often private. Often inconvenient.
Doing vulnerability is rehearsed. Sharable. Sharpened for resonance. It’s that video with the tears and perfect lighting, followed by a CTA.
It’s “this nearly broke me” followed by “link in bio.”
I get why it’s happening. We’re all selling something.
And the algorithm loves a good overshare.
But there’s a cost to treating vulnerability like a conversion funnel:
- Trust erodes. If everything is confession, nothing feels sacred.
- Audience fatigue creeps in. There’s only so much heartbreak people can consume before they stop believing.
- Sustainability breaks down. You can’t bleed publicly every month and expect not to feel lightheaded.
- Connection gets replaced by attention. And attention is transactional.
I’ve left heartfelt comments on vulnerability posts. Real comments, rooted in gratitude and received nothing. Not even a heart.
Which makes me wonder: Was I talking to a person or a persona? And if it was a persona, did they at least see it in their analytics dashboard?
The Small Habit of Being Honest
This is why this article lives under the category of my blog: Small Habits.
Because being vulnerable isn’t about posting something “real” once a month. It’s about building a consistent relationship with honesty and letting your work reflect the questions you’re actually living.
It’s also about making space for other people to share, not just to react.
Performative vulnerability thrives when honesty becomes episodic. But real vulnerability? That’s the habit. That’s what builds leadership. And trust. And longevity.
Not just likes.
Keeping Myself Honest
I’m checking myself as I write this.
Right now.
Is this real?
Am I being vulnerable? Or just doing it?
I don’t have the perfect answer. But I know this: Performative vulnerability might get attention, but it won’t build anything that lasts. Personally? I want to build. Even if it’s slower and messier. Even if no one clicks “like.”
I also want my nieces, Maggie and Miller, to develop that ability to tell the difference between real vulnerability and the kind that’s been repackaged for validation. To trust their instincts, to feel the weight of someone’s words, and to know whether that person would still say them if no one was watching.
Because that’s the real test, isn’t it?
Final Word on Performative Vulnerability
If this hit a nerve, sit with it. Not everything has to be content.
But if you’ve been caught in the loop of posting, performing, and wondering if anyone’s really on the other side, I see you.
And if you want space to get honest again, I’m here for that. We don’t have to market our way into meaning.
Sometimes we just need to talk.
