Unfiltered Light: Living True Amid the Noisy Parade of Fakes

Young people in the digital age live surrounded by images—photos petaled with artificial light and polish, videos with voices brighter and thinner than the ones in real rooms, a parade of faces and filtered moments marching endlessly across screens, inviting, cajoling, taunting, sometimes crying, but rarely truly revealing. Something essential is missing in all the clamor: a texture of the real, the rough and holy fabric of the actual self, beloved by God and eventually, sometimes fitfully, by one’s self. This is an essay, then, in praise of the unvarnished face, the old scar, the stutter, the prayer mumbled quietly in a corner, the handmade loaf, the ache, the true. Let us, if we can, find a way to live more truly—with a Catholic Classical heart—in a culture of curated unreality.

Nearly all teenagers are now online daily—46% of American teens report being online almost constantly, compared to 24% only a decade ago. Social media platforms—YouTube (90% teen usage), TikTok, Instagram—are the amphitheaters in which young people rehearse and broadcast versions of themselves. The performances are relentless: likes and hearts for digital performances; algorithms that reward outrage, glitter, or conformity; the nagging itch to retouch, repost, or reimagine the self so that it might please the watching crowd.

There is a cost to this endless exhibition. Jonathan Haidt documents in The Anxious Generation (2024) that since the early 2010s, as smartphones and social media became ever-present, anxiety, depression, and self-harm rates among adolescents have soared, especially among girls. Adolescents describe both a longing for authenticity and a pressure to self-present in calculated, curated ways—shifting their identities and mannerisms by platform, by audience, by the invisible and merciless codes of online life. Social media thus becomes not a window but a hall of mirrors, distorting reality and cultivating a persistent sense of inadequacy, imposterhood, or existential confusion.

Research suggests the critical concern is not merely the amount of time spent online but what one actually does while online. Adolescents who present an “idealized self” inconsistent with their lived identity on social media often report higher identity confusion and emotional distress, while those who strive to be their “true selves,” even in online spaces, experience greater self-concept clarity and resilience. Yet, authentic presentation online is hard, hemmed in by fears of exclusion and by the whisper that only a certain face, mood, or body will be received with acceptance.

Here, the resources of the Catholic tradition and the old philosophers offer depth, solace, and ballast. Consider Gaudium et Spes: “Modern man is often torn between hope and anxiety and pressing in his mind are questions about the present course of events, about personal dignity and the meaning of individual and collective endeavor” (GS, 4). The Church names the ache—the search for meaning, beneath and beyond performance or acquisition.

Pope Francis, in Christus Vivit (§79), addresses the young: “Do not let yourselves be robbed of hope and joy, or enslaved by the false images of the world, but rather, be yourself, live your unique vocation. Christ wants you authentic, free, alive!” Catholic anthropology insists that each human person is a beloved child of God, distinct, unrepeatable, and fashioned for love, not for performance.

Classical thought gestures in similar directions. Aristotle, in the Nicomachean Ethics, identifies the flourishing person—the one who becomes themselves, not by endlessly spinning new performances, but by the slow, patient acquisition of virtues: courage, temperance, justice, and, above all, truthfulness, defined as saying and living what is true, even when it is unpopular or lonely (NE IV.7). Augustine’s Confessions is a long, aching journey away from performance and into humility, honesty, and the love of God. Aquinas, too, argues that the virtue of veracitas, truthfulness, is foundational for life in community and the possibility of friendship.

To be authentic, then, is not simply to reject artifice but to be rooted in the ever-deepening truth of one’s identity as created, loved, and called by God—a truth neither invented nor performed but received and lived.

What, then, can Catholic Classical school students actually do to swim against the current of fakeness? Here are concrete strategies, colored with faith and tradition:

●      Practice Discernment: Before posting or responding online, pause. Ask: “Is this the truest version of me? Am I saying, sharing, or creating from a place of honesty, or simply performing what I think will be liked?” This is, in essence, the examination of conscience—an ancient Catholic habit made digital.

●      Curate Friendship, Not Just Followers: Seek and foster friendships rooted in virtue, shared pursuit of wisdom, and mutual care—both online and offline. True friends help us see ourselves more truly and love us even in our rough edges (see Aristotle’s philia and Aquinas on friendship).

●      Claim Time for Contemplation and Prayer: Step away daily from screens. Pray, even awkwardly, honestly. “Lord, teach me who I am, for I do not always know.” In silence and listening, one meets one’s real self—and, mercifully, One who loves that real self beyond measure (CCC 2567).

●      Seek Wisdom and Beauty: Dive into music, poetry, and stories that reveal Beauty in the world and in others unfiltered. The classical tradition models the way toward real wisdom (philosophy means the love of wisdom). This builds capacity to appreciate truth even when it isn’t flashy.

●      Resist the Tyranny of Comparison: Haidt and others document the toxic effects of online comparison. Instead, practice gratitude for small things—morning sun, the laughter in the hall, a well-written line. This instills a sense of dignity rooted not in online approval but in the gift of being alive.

●      Serve Others: Step out of the self-curation cycle. Volunteer, include the ignored, be kind in unnoticed ways. Service roots the self in something truer and bigger than the digital stage (GS, 27-29).

The Catholic Classical path emboldens young people to reflect, amid the noise, the unvarnished light they actually bear. To be “the salt of the earth, the light of the world” (Matthew 5:13-16) is not a matter of self-promotion but of witness—a humble radiance, an authenticity paid for with some cost, but radiant and human and holy. In a world obsessed with the curated and false, the Classical Catholic student can become a rebel of the most radical kind: grateful, truthful, attentive to the little gifts of each moment—alive, and so very real.