The Lie Meritocracy Told Me: Why Performing Success Almost Cost Me My Truth

Let’s get this straight: meritocracy is not real.

It sounds good on paper—work hard, stay focused, and the system will reward you. But what happens when the system wasn’t built for you to begin with? What happens when the performance of success becomes a survival strategy?

For years, I performed. I played the game. I overachieved, adapted, and dressed the part. And it worked. Until I realized I was being rewarded for wearing a mask.

When the Cracks Revealed Itself

Growing up, I didn’t realize I was performing. I thought I was just doing what needed to be done. Looking back, I realize my choices and what I went after lacked freedom. My choices were driven by survival. I was shaping myself into someone who could move through the world without friction.

In my family, turning 18 came with a kind of inevitability. You either had a kid or were on your way to having one. That pattern became a warning sign for me. I remember thinking, this will not get in my way.

I wasn’t trying to be better—I was trying to be free.

That’s the first lie meritocracy told me: that my choices were all mine. But fear and scarcity shaped those choices, and what I saw happening around me. Survival looked like success, so I performed.

This was one of the beginning encounters with deconditioning — recognizing the beliefs, behaviors, and expectations I inherited just to survive. Before I could choose truth, I had to understand the systems that trained me to perform.

Even as my world expanded, I was still trying to hold tight to the version of me I thought the world would reward. I was still clinging to a script I thought would save me. I wanted to be a doctor—not because I loved medicine, but because doctors had credibility. That was the role that felt safest. That was the role everyone told me I should pursue. I believed it would protect me. The one that would make me undeniable. If I could just become that, then maybe I could stop running. But here’s the truth: I was never running toward medicine. I was running from invisibility.

College is where the cracks revealed themselves. I’ll never forget my early classes—Women, Religion, and Gender Studies—and clinging to my Black Baptist church conditioning quoting scripture like it was armor. I got into a conversation about belief systems, and I remember a classmate saying, “I’ve never read the Bible.” And I said, “Then you’re going to hell.” I believed that. Because it was all I knew. That moment forced me to confront how limited my understanding of the world really was and what I needed to do to unlearn.

That moment cracked something open. And once it did, the books found me. At first, I only read what felt familiar—Black authors writing about poverty, pain, and the struggle. That’s all I knew. But soon, something shifted–names like Chinua Achebe began entering my world.

And so there’s this sort of explosion for me that came, again not having the language we have now about acknowledging when we’re performing versus choosing truth. It was like somebody cracked a window in a house I didn’t know I was locked in.

But performance has a cost. And eventually, that cost became too heavy to carry.

The Uncomfortable Truth: Beneath the Mask

Here’s where I leave you—not with an answer, but with the tension I had to hold myself.

Ask yourself:

• What success script are you performing—and who wrote it?

• Where have you mistaken survival for identity?

• What truth would you choose if you stopped asking for permission to be seen?

I invite you to have a conversation with me in the comments.

Because that’s the lie meritocracy tells us, right? That if you follow the script—work hard, play nice, perform the part—you’ll be safe. But safety isn’t the same as freedom. And success isn’t the same as truth.

I invite you to drop the mask. And when you do, you just might find the most powerful version of yourself that doesn’t need validation to be real.

Ready to Go Deeper

If you’re ready to unpack this further on a call in real time, Schedule a Complimentary Growtation. Together, we’ll explore what you’ve been carrying—and what you’re ready to release.