We’re drowning in the noise of the almost-real.
The slightly-off. (or “on the huh” if you’re from Suffolk)
The perfectly polished veneer of “authenticity” that’s anything but.
Everywhere you look, there’s an algorithm pretending to care. An AI-written caption that sounds like a human who’s read too many self-help books. A brand that says it’s “for the community” but has never actually spoken with one.
As someone with AuDHD, I have a finely tuned radar for the fake (aka my Bullshit Radar). My brain craves clarity, truth, and texture. When something feels off, I can feel it — physically. It’s that electric discomfort when words don’t match actions, when tone doesn’t match intent, when the mask slips and you see the template beneath. I’ve spent too many times than I care to remember trying to tell that radar to quiten down or ignoring it to my detriment, but I’m gloves off, volume up, these days.
I want real.
Unpolished.
Human.
Messy.
Real doesn’t mean perfect. It means showing the seams. It means having opinions. It means admitting when you don’t know something instead of pretending you do. It’s the difference between a conversation and a broadcast; between being listened to and being targeted.
Brands should want the same thing.
Because people — especially neurodivergent people — can sense when something’s hollow. We connect with presence, not performance. We want to know who’s behind the curtain, what they believe in, and why they give a damn.
Real doesn’t scale easily. It doesn’t fit neatly into a content calendar or a tone-of-voice guide. But that’s what makes it powerful. It’s the quiet confidence of showing up honestly — no filters, no scripts, no ChatGPT fluff.
I’m not anti-AI. I use it, I work with it to create workflows that help me deal with the mundane tasks. But I refuse to let it erase the heartbeat from what we make. Real conversation. Real connection. Real curiosity. That’s where trust lives — and without trust, brands are just noise.
If you’re building a brand, start there.
Be real enough that people can feel you.
Be consistent enough that they can trust you.
And be brave enough to stay human, even when the machine makes it easy not to.