DEAR MAYA: Humanity is the differentiator
Editor’s note: Dear Maya is a series of letters written for anyone navigating a career transition, questioning their path, or searching for something more meaningful in the work they do.
Humanity’s unique complexity is our greatest strength
“Unique” is a tired word. A placeholder we use when we know something matters, but haven’t made space to understand why.
I see it everywhere. LinkedIn bios, personal websites, resume headers. “Unique thinker.” “Bringing a unique perspective.” It’s become a flattened stamp of individuality, a whisper of something rich and complex compressed into a single, overused syllable.
But when I think of you, where you are right now, the questions you’re asking, I don’t think of “unique” in that way. I think of complexity. I think of everything you’ve carried, everything you’ve let go of, and the quiet patterns that have shaped the way you move through the world.
I think about what it means to be human at a time when so much is automated, optimized, and templated. When there are a thousand ways to imitate, replicate, even synthesize a person’s voice, but no way to replace what lives in the marrow of your experience. That, Maya, is the real differentiator. And it’s something no tool, no model, no job title will ever fully capture.
You’ve probably been told to “tell your story” before–I know I have. Maybe you’ve stared at a blank page trying to figure out how to frame your work history so it looks coherent. Maybe you’ve tried to distill your skills into something clean and clickable. That pressure to sound clear and confident, to "position" yourself just right…it flattens things.
What if the truth is messier? What if the truth is that your career hasn’t followed a straight line, and it’s precisely that curve, those pivots, pauses, leaps, that’s made you capable of seeing what others miss?
We don’t talk enough about how much of our career is shaped by things outside our control: an unstable job market, shifting industries, cultural barriers, burnout, invisible care work. We’re taught to frame it all as personal branding, as if we’re the product. But you’re not a product. You’re a person. And your story isn’t a sales pitch–it’s a landscape.
Your complexity holds power. Not because it makes you impressive, but because it makes you real. It teaches you how to listen deeply, how to spot patterns others overlook, how to adapt with grace, how to care for others, how to create space for possibility. That’s what employers, collaborators, and communities will come to value in the future if they’re paying attention.
The thing is, we’re entering a new kind of work era. One shaped less by rigid roles and more by fluid identity. Where AI can scan, sort, and summarize faster than we ever could. But it struggles with nuance. It can’t feel grief or joy or tension in the room. It can’t pull wisdom from lived contradiction. You can.
In a world saturated with sameness, your humanity becomes your greatest differentiator.
It’s not your job to commodify that, it’s your job to honour it. To show for you and as you.
So, when you find yourself doubting whether you have anything valuable to offer, I want you to come back to this: your perspective is not generic. Your experience is not trivial. The way you’ve moved through your life, the risks you’ve taken, the values you’ve defended, the versions of yourself you’ve outgrown, is a body of knowledge. It deserves to be in the room.
You might not know exactly what comes next. That’s okay. This isn’t a letter about certainty. It’s a letter about remembering what’s true. And what’s true is this: you don’t need to erase your humanity to become “hireable.” You don’t need to simplify yourself to belong.
You are already the proof–not of perfection, but of becoming.
Keep writing your story. Not to impress, but to connect. To make meaning. To move forward with integrity.
You are not behind. You are not broken. You are in process.
And that is a powerful place to be.
With care,
Josh
