The Truth About Lies: Where Do We Draw the Line?

We’ve all told a little white lie, haven’t we? That tiny fib to get out of trouble, or maybe to avoid an event we’d rather not attend. It’s almost second nature—a quick fix to spare someone’s feelings or save ourselves from an awkward situation. But here’s the question: Is it right? Should we prioritise honesty, even when the truth might sting? And why do we lie to the people we care about most? Is the truth really that terrifying, or are we just afraid of how others might see us if they knew the real story? When does a little lie become a big problem, and how do we deal with people who lie to us?

I still remember the first time I learned that telling the truth doesn’t always guarantee fairness. As a little girl, I lost my lunch money during break time. I searched for it frantically with my friends, but it was gone. When I got home, I told my aunt the truth, expecting understanding. Instead, she didn’t believe me and punished me anyway. That moment stayed with me. It taught me that sometimes, telling the truth wasn’t enough to keep you safe. So, I began telling little lies to avoid punishment. I know many can relate to this—learning to bend the truth out of fear rather than malice. But as I grew older, I realised that integrity is something I deeply value. If I expect honesty from others, I must first demonstrate it myself.

However, there are lies that go beyond self-preservation or convenience—lies that manipulate, deceive, and betray. And those? I have no patience for.

Take this story, for example. A few years ago, I was excitedly preparing for my first big outing after lockdown—a party I’d been looking forward to for weeks. I had booked an appointment with an acquaintance who’s a beautician. Now, I’ve always believed in supporting people I know, so I’d been a loyal customer of hers for years and may I add that I never expected mate’s rates from her. But here’s the kicker: She never treated me like a loyal customer. My appointments were constantly rescheduled, and I always felt I was an afterthought. On the day of the party, she left me waiting while she attended to other customers, even though I’d booked days in advance. I ended up rushing, stressed, and late to the party—missing a key part of the event. That was the final straw. I stopped using her services. It wasn’t just about the makeup—it was about the repeated dishonesty and disregard.

But the night got worse. At the party, I met a man who introduced himself as a lawyer, single, with no children. It sounded great—until I found out later that every single part of his introduction was a lie. Why did he feel the need to fabricate his entire identity? Was he afraid of rejection? Did he believe the real him wasn’t enough? When his lies began to unravel, he acted as though I was being unreasonable for expecting honesty. I never even got an apology. He denied his own wife and children, and that level of deception disgusted me. He’s long gone and blocked on every platform. It’s one thing to embellish a story; it’s another to manipulate someone by hiding fundamental truths about yourself. Too many women can relate to this—meeting someone who pretends to be something they’re not, only for the truth to surface later. And it is never okay.

What baffles me most about liars isn’t just their dishonesty—it’s their assumption that I’m someone who can’t handle the truth. It’s as if they think I’m not worthy of their authenticity. And that, more than anything, is what annoys me. Over the years, I’ve learned that I can’t control how others behave, but I can control how I respond. And my response to lies? Zero tolerance. I refuse to entertain dishonesty that is to my detriment.

Lies have consequences—sometimes devastating ones. I had someone share their story with me about how they had almost been raped because of a lie told by a close family member. When they were children, one of her sisters had lied to their mother, claiming their father wanted them to visit him and his new wife. Without verifying the story, their mother sent them off. The truth? The father had never requested a visit. At only eight years old at the time, she found herself in an unfamiliar house with teenage boys and no proper supervision. One of them attempted to rape her, and had it not been for her brother’s intervention, the outcome could have been tragic, but the emotional scars remain. The sister continued to lie for years, and this dear lady eventually had to cut ties for her own peace. Lies can destroy lives.

Stories like this remind me of the devastating impact lies can have. They’re not just harmless little fibs—they can destroy lives. I can understand lying to escape danger, but lying to manipulate or deceive? That’s where I draw the line.

In my Ghanaian Akan culture, there’s a beautiful tradition when naming a baby. Part of the ceremony involves a family member dipping a finger in sugar and touching the baby’s tongue and then repeating that process with table salt. The message is clear: “Whether you taste salt or sugar, tell it as it is.” It’s a powerful reminder of the importance of honesty. Yet, as a society, we often fall short of this ideal. We go through these meaningful rituals, only to raise children in a world where lying is almost normalised. It’s heartbreaking, and it’s something I hope we can change.

One movie that really struck a chord with me is *Atonement*. The narrator’s lie destroys lives, and by the time she finally tells the truth, it’s too late. The damage is done. It’s a fictional story, but it mirrors real life. Lies don’t just hurt in the moment—they have lasting consequences. Before you tell that lie, ask yourself: Who are you protecting? And at what cost? If you feel that your true self will be rejected, then work on how you see yourself—because deception isn’t the solution. We all are not perfect, but we can choose honesty.

Lies destroy relationships, erode trust, and manipulate people into making decisions they wouldn’t otherwise make. They cause untold harm. And while some say the truth hurts, I believe it’s not the truth itself, but how it’s delivered that makes the difference. The truth doesn’t have to hurt if it’s delivered with kindness and compassion. Life is hard enough without the added weight of deceit. Let’s strive to be honest—with ourselves and with others. And let’s not tolerate those who lie to manipulate or control us.

Thank you for taking the time to read, share, and reflect. Let’s continue to effect change by sharing our stories and holding ourselves accountable. After all, the truth may not always be easy, but it’s always worth it.