Today, I went for a walk without my phone — no music, no distractions. Just 30 minutes with nature and one question in my heart: Why am I afraid of being seen? I didn’t expect an answer, but as I walked uphill, thoughts began to unfold.
Before that walk, I’d been discussing brand strategy with my twin sister. She suggested sharing more of ourselves — especially our images — to connect with our growing newsletter community. It made perfect sense. But my body tensed. I felt overwhelmed. Anxious. Why did the idea of being seen in that way bring such discomfort?
As I climbed, I noticed a flower petal rolling effortlessly uphill — gliding, not struggling. I chuckled at the irony: here I was pushing through resistance, while the petal surrendered to the breeze. Grace. And I thought: How much lighter would life be — how much further could I be — if I had the courage to be seen?
One might think this fear is rooted in insecurity, but it’s not. This isn’t about appearance. Thanks be to God, by most standards, I’m a beautiful woman — curvaceous, athletic, the kind who turns heads. I’ve worked hard too: First-class honours in both undergrad and postgrad, certifications, years of experience. I have every reason to feel confident. To top it off, I have a twin who looks just like me.
And yet.
As twins, we’ve always attracted attention — especially when dressed alike. For a while, I enjoyed it. Then it started to feel… exhausting. When we began our social media journey over a decade ago, we had separate pages, but people wanted more of “us” — together. So we merged. Our community blossomed. But with every like, follow, and DM, I began to shrink. I wanted out. I didn’t want to keep feeding the flame of fame when I secretly feared the spotlight.
Halfway into my walk, a man among a group called out, “You’re very beautiful, can I come with you?” I smiled and said, “Good evening.”
But inside, I sighed. Can I not enjoy my self-reflection in peace?
Later that evening, I remembered a Bible passage about Jesus retreating into quiet places. Often, after miracles, He’d ask people not to share what He had done. That brought me some relief. Even someone with a divine mission needed solitude. Perhaps it’s okay to not always want to be seen.
Still, like Jesus, I know I’m here to serve a purpose — and to fulfill that purpose, I must allow myself to be seen.
When I got home, I did some digging. I’m not alone. Many people — maybe even you, reading this — carry a fear of being seen. A fear that holds us back from living, sharing, and showing up fully.
So here’s the next question I asked myself: Where in my life do I need to be seen for me to grow? For some, the answer might be in relationships. For me, it’s my business. I know that no matter how valuable my offering is, it only changes lives if people know it exists.
And that’s what I’m exploring in Part 2, the roots of this fear — childhood conditioning, societal expectations, and subtle shaming — along with the tools and mindset shifts I’m using to show up.
Because the world doesn’t just need what we do.
It needs us — seen, soft, strong, and whole.
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