Carving Your Own Path: Authentically Existential

I’ve come to realise that I’ve been an existentialist long before I knew what the term meant. Growing up on the tough streets of Johannesburg, navigating violence at home and in my neighbourhood, I wasn’t handed a roadmap for life. I had to carve my own way, and in many ways, I’ve been on a relentless journey of self-definition ever since. Authenticity, as I’ve learned, isn’t something you ‘find’ — it’s something you forge daily through choices that reflect who you really are, often despite who others think you should be.

Authenticity isn’t a label or an end state. It’s an evolving process that can take a lifetime. I didn’t realise this at first. I thought ‘being authentic’ meant just being ‘myself’. But ‘myself’ was often a mix of survival tactics, expectations from others, and beliefs I hadn’t fully questioned. It was existentialism, and especially my journey in martial arts, that taught me what authenticity really is: a constant act of becoming, forged in the choices you make, especially when they go against the grain of expectation.

The Illusion of Ready-Made Authenticity

Before I encountered existentialism, I thought authenticity was simply about following my instincts. And that seemed clear enough — I’d worked for myself, created my own path, and carved a unique approach to martial arts. But over time, I realised that my instincts were subtly bending to the needs and expectations of others, particularly those who wanted to teach my approach. In my drive to see my methods reach further, I found myself gradually compromising, adjusting to fit what others thought my approach should be.

I had to confront an uncomfortable truth: somewhere along the way, I was forgetting my reasons for starting this journey in the first place. Existentialism taught me that ‘being true to yourself’ is an active, conscious process. It’s not about passively adopting what others think or expect but involves courageously holding to what you believe, even when others push you in different directions. Real authenticity, I’ve learned, is hard-won, and it often means standing firm when everything around you tries to pull you off course. It’s a commitment to stay connected to your original purpose, no matter the pressures to appease others’ visions.

Freedom and Responsibility: An Existential Truth

Jean-Paul Sartre, one of existentialism’s major figures, wrote, ‘Man is condemned to be free’. It’s a powerful phrase that speaks to the freedom — and responsibility — we each have to shape our lives without a ready-made blueprint. When I first encountered this idea, I felt it echoed my own experiences. I’d never had a map. My life taught me early on that you build your own compass, navigating through uncertainty, failure, and reinvention.

Existential freedom isn’t about running from responsibility. It’s about fully embracing it. No one else could tell me what kind of life was worth living — it was my job to create it. Martial arts, too, taught me this. Freedom doesn’t mean following the nearest path; it’s about creating your own direction, even in the smallest movements. Each technique, each lesson, each interaction is a reflection of my beliefs and the approach I’ve forged. Taking responsibility for that, for holding to my values rather than taking the easy or popular route, has become central to my life philosophy.

Freedom is liberating, but it’s also a burden. It means confronting the question: What do I really want, beyond everyone else’s expectations?

Confronting Bad Faith: The Art of Self-Honesty

Existentialism introduced me to the concept of ‘bad faith’ — the tendency to deceive ourselves, playing roles to avoid the discomfort of freedom. I saw how bad faith showed up in my own life, and how I’d played along with expectations to sidestep conflict or discomfort. For years, I’d been ‘tough,’ the fighter, the ‘badass’ who never showed fear. But this persona was as much a mask as it was my identity. My years on the mat, in the ring, and with those I taught showed me that real authenticity required letting go of that mask, even if it meant being vulnerable.

In my work, I help others discover that same courage to live honestly. For me, that meant acknowledging the fear and insecurity I’d once buried. When I stopped hiding from these parts of myself, I found that they didn’t weaken me — they made me more resilient, more real. Authenticity isn’t about always being ‘strong’ or ‘tough’; it’s about honouring the parts of yourself that feel vulnerable and choosing to live honestly anyway.

Authenticity as a Daily Practice

Perhaps the biggest lesson I’ve learned from existentialism is that authenticity is a daily act of courage. There’s no finish line, no point where you’ve ‘arrived’ at being your true self. Instead, every day presents new choices to align with who you want to be. In my martial arts practice, I’ve often found that even when I thought I’d mastered something, life had new lessons waiting. Real authenticity is about staying open, staying curious, and being willing to confront whatever inner battles arise.

Some days, authenticity means facing down parts of myself I’d rather ignore. Other days, it means taking risks that could lead to failure. But each choice I make brings me closer to a self that feels like mine — not a projection of who others think I should be.

Creating My Own Path, Again and Again

Existentialism taught me to see life as an open canvas, and martial arts has been my paintbrush. Embracing the unknown has become my philosophy. In a world full of pre-packaged ideals, I’ve learned to let go of fixed definitions of success and authenticity. For me, real freedom lies in the knowledge that authenticity isn’t a state I reach and cling to; it’s a path I choose daily. It’s a path of courage, self-honesty, and relentless reinvention.

If there’s one idea I’d like to leave you with, it’s this: authenticity isn’t something you find by following a set formula. It’s an act of creation, a choice that’s as complex and layered as the life that shapes it. Authenticity demands courage, resilience, and a willingness to keep questioning — to keep choosing, again and again, to live a life that feels truly yours.

5 Ways to Live with Existential Authenticity

• Check in With Yourself Regularly

Ask yourself whether your daily choices align with who you genuinely want to be. Question what’s ‘normal’ or expected, and recognise when you’re acting out of habit rather than intention.

• Embrace the Discomfort of Freedom

Making choices without a roadmap is unsettling but essential for growth. When you feel that discomfort, take it as a sign you’re carving your own path, not following someone else’s.

• Challenge ‘Bad Faith’ Moments

Notice when you’re tempted to conform for comfort. Ask yourself if these choices reflect your true values or if you’re choosing ease over honesty.

• Write and Revisit Your Mission Statement

Define what matters most to you in life and work, and put it down on paper. As you grow, return to this mission, refining it to stay in touch with what’s genuinely yours.

• Take Action, Even Small Steps

Existential authenticity is something you build, not wait for. Reflect on who you want to be, and take small actions daily to align with that vision.

In a world that pressures us to conform, existentialism and martial arts have taught me the value of living true to myself. It’s about courage, choice, and the journey of self-discovery, a lifelong path that I’ve embraced — scars and all. This journey may not be easy, but it’s worth every step.