Fake It Till You Make It

There is a version of "fake it till you make it" that sounds dishonest.

Pretend to be what you are not. Wear a mask. Sell confidence you have not earned. Talk louder than your competence.

But that is not the version I know.

The version I know started with a watch.

When I was in primary school, my immediate elder brother had a watch. He was five years older than me, so in the natural kingdom of childhood, he was not just my brother. He was the senior man. The one with access. The one with things.

As a child, gadgets came by age. Some things were simply not yours yet.

But my brother knew me. He knew his younger brother. And out of love, he allowed me to take his watch to school.

I went to Subuola Memorial Nursery and Primary School in Agodi GRA, Ibadan. We learned to recite the whole name like a mantra — the full name, the full address — the way you teach a small child to announce exactly who he belongs to, so that if he ever gets lost, a stranger can carry him home. I could recite it perfectly long before I understood a word of it. I remember this clearly because I can still see the sprint from Class 3A to the field for Physical and Health Education. If you know Subuola, you know. If you can afford to send your children there, please do. Some places stay with you.

That day, I wore the watch to school.

And of course, people noticed.

For a child, that is a whole promotion. A watch on your wrist is not just a watch. It is status. It is arrival. It is borrowed adulthood.

Then curiosity entered the story.

At some point on the field, I started inspecting the watch. I wanted to know how it worked. First, the strap came loose. Then somehow, I opened it further. I do not even remember where I found the tool or how far I went, but I know this: the watch was no longer simply a watch.

It had become pieces.

But even in trouble, I was diligent.

I gathered every part I could find and put them inside my socks. I went back to class without wearing my socks and shoes properly because I did not want to lose any piece.

When I got home, I handed my brother the socks.

Inside were the remains of his watch.

That moment had a special kind of fake confidence. The kind where you know you are in trouble, but you still present the evidence like a responsible citizen.

I had worn what was not mine. I had broken what I did not yet understand. I had hidden nothing. I had brought back the pieces.

That may have been one of my earliest lessons in faking it till you make it.

Not because I was trying to deceive anybody.

But because I was reaching for a version of myself I had not yet grown into.

That is what childhood is. That is what learning is. That is what life keeps asking of us.

Life gives us the costume before it gives us the confidence.

You become a student before you understand the value of education. You become a worker before you understand responsibility. You become a husband, wife, parent, leader, founder, immigrant, professional, or adult before you fully understand what the role will demand from you.

Then life watches what you do with the role.

Some people think confidence arrives first.

It does not always work that way.

Sometimes the role comes first. The fear comes next. The competence comes later.

When I moved to South Africa, I had to throw myself into the world. I was alone. I needed money. My first job was as a bouncer.

Why?

Because I was tall.

That was the qualification life saw first.

I had never really worked a day in my life in that way. I was young. I had the body. I had the height. So I stood at the door and played the part.

Was I fully that man yet?

Maybe not.

But I needed to survive. And survival has a way of enrolling you in classes you did not apply for.

That is another kind of faking it till you make it.

Not fraud.

Formation.

You stand where life places you. You learn the weight of the position by carrying it.

Later, I worked on a cruise ship as the personal trainer on board, surrounded by people from over sixty nationalities.

That kind of thing was not even in my childhood imagination.

Growing up, many of the people I later worked with were people I had mostly seen on television. Then suddenly, I was not watching the world. I was inside it.

And even there, I felt like an imposter.

But that feeling was not the whole truth.

The truth was that I was a qualified and certified personal trainer. I had gone through the process. I had been selected. I was there for a reason.

At some point, I had to realize something: if I kept calling myself an imposter in a room where I had been properly chosen, I was not only insulting myself. I was insulting the judgment of the people who selected me.

That changed something.

I started to understand that imposter syndrome is not always proof that you are fake.

Sometimes it is proof that you are growing faster than your self-image can update.

You have entered a room your old mind did not expect to survive.

So your body is there. Your work is there. Your evidence is there. But your confidence is still catching up.

That is not deception.

That is transition.

The difference between growth and deception is intent.

If your intent is to learn, to serve, to become better, to rise into the responsibility, then "faking it" is often just apprenticeship under pressure.

But if your intent is to manipulate, exploit, or mislead, then it becomes something else entirely.

The action may look similar from outside.

But the intent changes the meaning.

A role is not the whole story. The spirit behind the role matters.

That is why I no longer treat "fake it till you make it" as a shallow slogan.

I see it as a question of becoming.

Who are you trying to become? Why are you trying to become it? What are you willing to practice consistently until the role becomes honest in your hands?

Because consistency is the part people skip.

Do not fake ten things at once.

Do not be a dabbler and call it ambition.

Pick one thing. Stay with it long enough for the lie to become labor, and for the labor to become skill.

If you are faking being a student, keep showing up until you complete the course.

If you are faking discipline, keep waking up.

If you are faking courage, keep entering the room.

If you are faking Spanish, keep speaking, listening, failing, repeating, embarrassing yourself, and trying again. One day, the mouth will catch up with the desire.

Children go to school term after term because we trust that repetition will eventually produce result. Not every day looks meaningful. Not every class feels powerful. But the consistency compounds.

That is life.

You wear the watch before you understand time.

You stand at the door before you understand authority.

You enter the ship before you understand the world.

You take the job before you fully believe you belong.

You start the business before you feel like a founder.

You write the article before you feel like a writer.

Then one day, you look back and realize you were not faking.

You were rehearsing truth.

The world may call it pretending.

But sometimes pretending is how the soul practices becoming.

The danger is not in starting before you are ready.

Most of life starts before we are ready.

The danger is refusing to grow after you start.

So fake it if you must.

But fake it with humility.

Fake it with discipline.

Fake it with honest intent.

Fake it with respect for the room you entered.

Fake it while studying.

Fake it while listening.

Fake it while becoming useful.

Fake it until your work can defend your presence.

And when you finally make it, do not become arrogant.

Remember the watch.

Remember the socks.

Remember the pieces you carried home.

Remember that someone trusted you before you fully understood what you were holding.

That is how many of us begin.

Borrowed confidence. Real curiosity. Broken pieces. Love still waiting at home.

And from there, if we are consistent enough, we become.