In the everlasting race to stand out, authenticity is often the first to fall behind.

Hyperindividualism has turned personal taste into a lifelong competition. "With each person sprinting to be noticed, to claim the title of 'niche,' 'nicheness', rather than sincerity, becomes something to brag about.

The concept of wanting to be niche is far from new — it’s been happening for decades in underground music, film and art scenes.

When an artist blows up, there is often a scramble to claim being an original fan —

the implication being that only those who knew them before they hit the mainstream are real fans, and everyone else is just a poser.

This phenomena is exemplified by social media and the new push to become “nicher.” Previously tight-knit communities grow exponentially, and in the desperate scramble to claim being an original fan, niche hobbies and subcultures lose their original meanings and intentions. Trends rise, fall and reduce subcultures to visual aesthetics, in turn erasing an important degree of identity for its former members.

Erasure is glorified to a degree that has never been seen until the rise of social media.

The internet has normalized fakeness.

This newfound behavior spills into everyday life, and nothing embodies it more than the yearly release of Spotify Wrapped. As some rush to post their most-listened-to artist of 2025, others aren't as enthusiastic. Year after year, we hear the same conflict.

“Mine’s not being posted. It’s so basic.”

“I can’t show you — you’ll laugh at me.”

“I swear I’m nicher than this.”

A new degree of shame has been ushered in by the visibility of the digital age. “Nicher” has become synonymous with “better.” People hide what brings them joy because it is “cringe.”

This effect is only a fragment of a much larger problem that continues to grow. By eroding our authenticity, the widespread idea of nicheness collapses into social conformity.

Although most brand themselves as niche, they follow trends just as widely as someone in the mainstream, but with a newfangled aesthetic to cover their tracks. It’s not authentic.

As people attempt to resist the masses and stand alone, they end up reproducing it as the same “underground” artists — Radiohead, Lana Del Rey and Deftones to name a few — and niche fashion styles circulate.

The word “individuality” used to represent free self-expression. Now it symbolizes the replacement of genuine interest with standardized sameness.

In the widespread frenzy to be unique, we've ended up exactly where we began: uniformity, just with a new aesthetic.

Your interests define how the world views you. Faking an interest to appear ‘niche’ gives the world a skewed perception of your hobbies and beliefs.

Though holding a mask to the world is normal to a degree, it can do more harm than good when it starts to impact personal relationships.

Psychologists stress the impacts of inauthenticity on mental health.

Inauthenticity to yourself can cause depression and an intense feeling of emptiness. You create a disconnect between your true self and your actions. This “fake” persona requires constant emotional energy to maintain, with research showing links to poor self esteem.

It’s important to remember that people like you — or, at the very least, the “you” that you present to the world.

When you’re genuinely interested in niche things, it adds to your intrigue.

But if it's all an act, then it begs the question: “Do people desire the real you or the false image you brand yourself as?”

Arguably, the best way to be niche is to find your genuine interests. When you are authentic, you attract authenticity.

Genuine self-expression gets you everywhere in life.

Plastic, however, only ever gets thrown out.

In the lifelong race to appear unique, we've left our authenticity at the starting line — and crossed the finish looking like a monolith.