The Halo Effect Created by Feeling Authentic and Being Fun

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Were you popular growing up? How did authenticity and being fun play out within your childhood peer groups and social circles during adolescence?

In this post, I'm going to filter two recent studies on the importance of feeling authentic¹ and being fun² through my life experience as a kid and deconstruct how feeling authentic and being fun during adolescence influenced my rejection sensitivity and social status as a teenager.

The first study (Gino & Kouchaki, 2020), by a pair of researchers from Harvard and Northwestern, is titled, "Feeling Authentic Buffers Against Social Rejection."

As the paper's title suggests, Francesca Gino and Maryam Kouchaki found that "feeling authentic results in lower feelings of rejection after social exclusion" and that "experiencing authenticity leads people to appraise situations as less threatening." Interventions that increase authenticity also appear to buffer against rejection sensitivity within a social circle. (Grant Hilary Brenner wrote about this research in an April 26 Psychology Today post, "How Authenticity Eases Social Rejection.")

The second recently published study (Laursen et al., 2020) found that kids who are fun to be around may benefit from a "halo effect" that increases social status. Over time, being popular leads to more and more fun-loving behavior, which creates an upward spiral of increased popularity and likability. (I reported on this study in an April 28 Psychology Today post, "Kids Who Are Fun to Be Around May Benefit From a Halo Effect.")

In my mind, these two studies complement one another and dovetail seamlessly. Is it just me, or does everybody secretly want to be more authentic and less thin-skinned about social rejection while simultaneously being perceived as fun to be around and a bit more popular?

For the record: I have mixed feelings about promoting the importance of high social status. Some of the most valuable "character building" lessons I learned in middle school (and again at a homophobic boarding school in the early 1980s) came from being unpopular. As difficult as it is to be socially rejected and ostracized, being unpopular and not well-liked during adolescence may have some long-term benefits. That said, social rejection is traumatic and can break you. (See "Flip the Script: Turning Naysayer Put-Downs into Rocket Fuel.")

Based on life experience, it seems to me that learning self-compassion and being able to say "I am what I am" (warts and all) is the first step towards feeling authentic. Also, once you feel comfortable in your own skin, it's much easier to relax and have fun without being self-conscious or hiding who you really are. In many ways, feeling authentic and being fun are synergistic.

Anecdotally, I know that feeling authentic and being fun can project a halo effect that triggers an upward spiral of being simultaneously less rejection sensitive and more fun to be around. When onlookers see someone who is carefree, comfortable in his or her skin, and fun to be around they're inclined to say, "Get me some of that!"

There is a caveat: Aside from my stifling experience at boarding school, I was fortunate enough to grow up in LGBTQ-friendly zip codes outside of Boston and in Manhattan. It was relatively safe for me to come out at a young age; I'm well aware that this isn't the case for everyone.

When It Comes to Feeling Authentic and Being Fun, Disco Doesn't Suck

As a member of the LGBTQ community, my autobiographical perspective on authenticity and being fun are strongly influenced by identifying as a gay person since the late-1970s.

In 1975, I started spending every penny of my allowance on vinyl 45s. Like many kids my age, I listened to Casey Kasem's countdown every weekend and regularly bought my favorite Top 40 singles on Billboard's HOT 100 at Woolworth's. By the late-1970s, when I was in middle school, I was listening to more urban radio and was buying 12" disco remixes at a "Strawberries" record store in Boston.

In the spring of 1979, when Donna Summer released her "Bad Girls" album, it seemed like I was listening to 120 BPM music 24/7. Every Saturday afternoon, I'd take a Green Line trolley car on the "T" down Beacon Street to a roller disco near Fenway Park called "Spinoff."

Unfortunately, by the summer of '79 (after "Disco Demolition Night") there was increasing societal pressure to join the "disco sucks" movement. (For more on "the homophobic and racist implications" of being anti-disco in the late-1970s, check out this article by Josh O'Connor.)

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In the fall of 1979, I remember having to make a decision: Should I be inauthentic and pretend not to like disco (which would be no fun), or do I stick to my guns and keep having fun by going to the roller disco on Saturdays? I chose to keep going to Spinoff and refused to be discreet about how much I enjoyed dance songs. For me, joie de vivre and disco go hand in hand.

Forty years ago this month, in May of 1980, Diana Ross released her eponymous album "Diana." This album changed my life. The song "I'm Coming Out" became a universal gay anthem that made it infinitely easier for me—or anyone who was still in the closet—to authentically "break out of their shell" in a fun-loving way.

In the spring of 1980, I was in eighth grade. As "upperclassmen," we had the homeroom privilege of a small stereo we could use during recess. Because I felt immune to social rejection, during breaks, I'd blast "I'm Coming Out" on the homeroom turntable and publicly "dance like nobody was watching."

In terms of my social status, this was a risky (and risqué) move. However, because I'd practiced being authentic at Spinoff and felt comfortable in my skin, I didn't care what my classmates thought. Anecdotally, my experience of how feeling authentic buffers against social rejection corroborates the recent findings of Gino and Kouchaki (2020).

Of course, in less LGBTQ-friendly environments, acting openly gay in the early 1980s would probably obliterate one's popularity. Fortunately, at my progressive school in Brookline, Massachusetts, the fact that I was bold enough to be "out loud and proud" seemed to boost my social status. Being authentic gained me some R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Disco music also amplified my halo effect because it made me fun to be around. Anecdotally, this corroborates the latest research on being fun by Brett Laursen et al. (2020).

In closing, I know from six decades of life experience that there's a sweet spot for being fun and authentic, which vacillates depending on your peer group "du jour." For example, during Zoom meetings for work during the coronavirus pandemic, I make an effort to be authentic and [slightly] fun. Obviously, being fun at inappropriate times (especially in a professional setting) is a bad idea.

Exhibit A of this phenomenon: A few weeks ago, I decided to let my guard down and sing a few bars of Lady Gaga's song "Stupid Love" karaoke-style as we were wrapping up a Zoom call. I casually mentioned that I'd been practicing Richy Jackson's choreography for the song during self-quarantine. A few colleagues started egging me on to do some of my "little monster" dance moves on Zoom. I refused, and I do not regret it! The last thing I need professionally is to have a video of me dancing like a fool recorded during a Zoom meeting and then reposted (mockingly) on social media for perpetuity.

Conclusions: Feeling authentic and being fun can create a halo effect that buffers against social rejection while boosting social status. However, like most things in life, there's an inverted-U "Goldilocks Zone" that's just right. Too much authenticity or unbridled fun can backfire. There's a sweet spot of displaying authenticity and seeming fun to be around that can benefit people of all ages.