Written by Eugenie Maynard
Graphic by Alisha Nagle & Alexandra Enache
CW: Discussion of mental health,
bullying, and ableism.
This was originally published in ‘Chimera’, Bossy’s 2022 print edition.
Just fake it till you make it. Everyone can do it—you’re just not trying hard enough. Visualise yourself as a successful person, and you can achieve anything! These are sentiments everyone has heard in some form, and probably accepted. Yet, who do they really serve? Are they truly inspiring, rousing calls for self-belief, or simply unrealistic ideals designed to shame people for their responses to systemic problems?
Confidence is defined as “a belief in your own ability to do things and be successful.” We imagine confidence as something accessible to each of us, provided we love ourselves enough to obtain self-belief. This definition is sold to us as an aspiration we should strive toward.
In reality, it is just another unattainable goal packaged up with
messaging around toxic positivity, “rise and grind” culture, and #girlboss feminism, all of which create the illusion that we are the ultimate guiding force in our lives, and that despite cultural and structural forces, anyone can achieve anything if they just put their minds to it.
This deliberate ignorance toward the realities of structural oppression epitomises the actuality of commodified confidence—that it exists in order to create a profit.
Profits from self-help guides. Profits from sales driven by influencer marketing on social media. Profits from infinitely increasing productivity as we are told to produce more and more, to do more and be more, and that if we do maybe—just maybe— we will reach this unachievable goal of perfect confidence and finally feel like we are enough. It is not about individuals becoming their best selves, but rather about attempting to fit everyone into an extroverted, overworked mould that makes them the most valuable producers possible.
Confidence is marketed to us as both the most important ingredient for success and something within everyone’s reach. Growing up as a shy, quiet kid, I was regularly told that I “just needed to be more confident”, more outgoing, and then I’d fit in with the other kids and be happier. It turns out that the missing ingredient wasn’t confidence, but serotonin, as I would find out years later; I have an anxiety disorder, and probably have had it for most of my life. The fact that I didn’t fit in with the other kids was likely related to my anxiety and the different worlds my classmates and I came from, rather than a mere lack of confidence.
As anyone who has struggled with anxiety or depression can attest, unwavering self-love, self-belief, and self-promotion are often easier said than done and definitely not within everyone’s reach. The notion that everyone can love and believe in themselves unconditionally and that if they don’t, then there’s something innately wrong with them—is rooted in ableism that refuses to engage with the reality of those who live with mental illness.
Yet I’ve been told countless times that this is all I must do in order to cure my anxiety. I spent hours searching inside for this mysterious, elusive “confidence” that I’m supposed to have, only to feel more and more hopeless. I was too broken to ever be enough to find it. The search has manifested itself in many ways throughout my life, such as not volunteering to take on roles in school or my college because I thought I didn’t have the “confidence” required for them. It has led me to doubt my abilities and hold myself back, and is something I fight to this day.
This is the insidious truth of confidence culture. It ties up
our self-worth within impossible ideals of self-love, of constant perfection, and continuous productivity required to prove that the façade of confidence has worked—that we are successful.
Confidence culture is particularly targeted at women. On social media, we are constantly fed reels of daily routines that involve waking up at 5am, working out, and meal prepping the
healthiest foods before going to work at some high-powered job, all without a single hair ever falling out of place. I cannot count the number of times I have seen these videos and, ironically, felt even worse about myself because I’m unable to reach this level of perfection and confidence. As someone whose algorithm has sussed out that confidence is not my forte, I constantly get targeted ads for planners that will improve my productivity, or with tips on how I can fake my confidence.
These products and courses all come at a premium price justified because of the confidence they claim to deliver and therefore the productivity they will produce.
They frame themselves in the language of self- improvement, but realistically are just the products of a neocapitalist economic system that aims to commodify every aspect of life. And it wouldn’t really matter if they worked, anyway. It doesn’t matter how much I believe in myself or how I present in professional and academic settings—that alone will never be enough to overcome the structural and cultural force of misogyny. No amount of self-love can hide the fact that simply by virtue of my gender I will not be taken as seriously. The idea that confidence is accessible to everyone and necessary for success places an immense burden upon anyone who does not fit the mould of cis, white, straight, and male.
People who exist at the intersection of these identities are more significantly impacted by this individual mandate to resolve institutional discrimination, as they are held to an even higher standard of success, and receive the same toxic message that the only thing holding them back is themselves. The distinction between what is actually achievable through self-belief and what is structurally determined is evident all around us. For the proposition that confidence is the missing ingredient for success to be true, we would all have to start at the same level. And that just isn’t the case.
According to the ABS, in 2022 the average woman in Australia earns 14.1 per cent less than men per week, or $263.90 less. And
while Australia lacks the collection of data to determine exactly how race plays into employment, as of 2020, migrant women are an estimated 7 per cent less likely to be employed than Australian-born women, and are overrepresented in low paid and insecure work. The women represented in these statistics are not simply lacking in confidence or motivation—what they are facing is system-
entrenched discrimination that finds its roots in racism and misogyny.
So, is there no value in confidence culture? Our current model is obviously flawed and enforces ideas that are actively harmful, upholding systems of oppression that are intertwined with social myths and narratives used to define other people’s value.
Confidence and self-love as concepts are not inherently bad. The problem arises when they are used to push a narrative of personal responsibility, leaving systemic issues such as racism, misogyny, ableism, and sexual prejudice unaddressed. Acknowledging the barriers that exist for large portions of the population to be “confident” and restructuring social narratives to provide space for all people to authentically and openly be themselves would be a very valuable change in cultural perspective.
If we can find a way to incorporate the base ideas of confidence culture, such as self-love and self-belief, into a conversation that recognises the issues people face on a structural level, then maybe they can still be of some value. But until that day, telling someone like me that in order to be successful I need to become more confident is never going to work. And it shouldn’t have to.
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