Proof of humanity required: What constant doubt is doing to us
Updated: Oct 12
I was going to open this article with a story about something I saw on TikTok. I am probably on TikTok too much, but I guess that's a discussion for another day. Anyway, maybe you've seen it. A student talks about his essay being projected up on the screen at the start of class and then finds out after class that he was going to be instantly failed because his professor doesn’t believe he wrote his own paper. The professor told him that he could tell he used AI because in the paper there were uses of an em dash. That was the professor's evidence, believing that the use of an em dash is way too sophisticated to be human. The student in the video talks about how they tried to prove the work was their own by running the paper through an AI detector and showing that it came up 100% human, but the professor fails him anyway because he doesn't trust the AI detector.
It’s a fascinating story. Or at least it would be—if it were true. (See what I did there? I personally happen to like em dashes, and my wrists are a little tired from typing this all by my human self.)
Anyhow, I went back to find the video to link in this article and saw someone else telling the same story. Even down to the part where the essay was projected on the screen. The same exact story. Each presented it as something that happened to themselves, and one of the creators in a later video said it happened to a friend. When called out in the comments, he said, “It happens to lots of people.” That's when I realized that actually they were both hawking an AI detector service.
I've been asking myself whether people are starting to hedge how they speak or write. Are people dialing back their vocabulary, simplifying their sentences, or even making intentional errors all to avoid sounding “too AI”? Could there now be a fear of being judged for using these new large language models (LLMs)? And if so, what does that do to creativity, to confidence, and to the way we signal intelligence or originality? Have we found yet another way to question folks' authenticity?
It feels like we’re living through a time when mistrust isn’t accidental. It’s becoming increasingly intentional. I think it makes us start to question whether everyevery essay, photo, or sentence is human-made or machine-made. Sometimes I come across something online that I think is really cool and I hate that a thought creeps into my head, like, “Is this real, or is this AI?”
This morning I woke up to an email from Microsoft asking me to review the new terms. I don't know about you, but I get so drained thinking about these long terms and conditions, even though they're at least (mostly) written in plain language these days. I popped the terms and conditions into ChatGPT and asked for a summary and highlight of what they wanted to do with my content when I use Microsoft products. I saw that they are planning to start embedding metadata into AI-generated content. Basically, they will be adding digital watermarks that will identify whether something was made using their tools like Copilot or DALL·E. The European Union is pushing for similar transparency through regulation.
I understand the intent. It’s about safety, traceability, trust. But it also raises a new set of questions:
What happens when every idea, sentence, or creative expression comes with a tag that says “this was (or wasn’t) made by a human”? How much proof of humanity will we require—and from whom?
When I discuss AI and LLMs with folks, I often use the analogy of calculators. When I was in school, we weren’t allowed to use them on tests. Teachers wanted us to “show our work” so that we could prove that we understood the process, not just the answer. As an adult, you're not gonna catch me doing long division if I don't have to. I pull out my phone and use the calculator app. Why wouldn't I? I don’t need to prove that I know long division in order to justify using a tool that saves me time and mental energy.
But that’s not how most folks think about AI— at least not yet. We haven’t agreed on what’s acceptable, what’s transparent, and what’s suspicious. We’re still figuring out where the lines are between help and cheating, support and shortcut. And in the meantime, people are starting to doubt each other. Worse than that, actually, I am worried that people are starting to doubt themselves.
If you write too well, you might be accused of relying on a machine. If you generate a powerful insight, someone might ask what tool you used instead of giving you credit. And for people who already face scrutiny—because of how they speak, look, or identify—that suspicion may hit even harder. We used to celebrate sharp thinkers and clever phrasing. Now we second-guess them.
I don’t know if we’re there yet, but I do wonder what happens if this becomes our new default. What happens if clarity starts to feel risky? If creativity gets trimmed down for safety? If confidence is confused with inauthenticity? What happens to young professionals who are still developing their voices but already afraid to use them fully? What happens to people who already feel scrutinized because of how they speak, or where they’re from, or how they show up in the world?
If the fear of being mistaken for a machine keeps us from expressing our full selves, then I think it's possible that fear isn’t just about AI. Could it be about what we’ve come to expect (or not expect) from one another? We’re in a moment where brilliance itself can raise eyebrows. If someone writes something too crisp, speaks with too much polish, or submits work that feels unusually strong, the question is no longer just “How did you do this?” It’s “Did you really do this?” That used to be a compliment. Now, it feels like an accusation.
And that worries me. I was busy working on my book, Mixed Signals: A Multiracial Window into Civility and Belonging at Work, when I wrote this. I am constantly thinking about voice, belonging, and systems of perception. It’s easy to say “we’re all navigating this together,” but not everyone carries the same burden of suspicion. For some of us, being seen as “too good” was already complicated. I've learned from the multiracial folks I've surveyed and interviewed that they are constantly up against perceptions that they are less capable, competent, and qualified merely because of their racial backgrounds. Has the use of AI just added a new layer of scrutiny?
I think about what this means for inclusion, for creativity, and for workplace culture:
What happens when managers start assuming that great work must have come from a tool?
What happens when applicants are asked to prove that their cover letter was typed by hand?
What happens when people feel the need to insert intentional mistakes, or water down their ideas, just to avoid being flagged or dismissed?
We used to worry about imposter syndrome. Now we’ve added imposter suspicion! There is a sense that no matter how much effort, thought, or care went into something, it won’t be taken at face value unless it somehow sounds less smart or has been run through some other tool to determine a human did it (and even then might not be believed).
That’s not just unfair. It’s dangerous. I say this because when we build environments where trust is thin and authenticity is judged by how rough around the edges you sound, we’re not creating safety. Psychological safety has been part of the conversation for years, and now we’re creating pressure to self-sabotage.
So yes, AI is changing how we work, write, and think. But the real issue isn’t the tool. It’s the climate we’re building around it. Here's what I think:
We need better conversations about what counts as original, as human, as real.
We need to develop norms that are based on context, not just suspicion.
We need to be careful not to start punishing people—for sounding competent, for being clear, or for expressing themselves with confidence.
And maybe we need to ask ourselves what kind of culture we’re shaping if brilliance always needs a receipt.
For further exploration:
