People don’t trust experts anymore. Or at least, not the way they used to. In a post-truth world, where misinformation spreads faster than facts, where anyone with an internet connection can sound authoritative, just being right isn’t enough. You have to be interesting. You have to be engaging. You have to be… a little quirky.

Quirkiness is underrated in academia. It’s often seen as unserious, unprofessional, even distracting. But the best communicators, the ones who actually get people to listen, tend to have something unexpected about them. A scientist who explains climate change using weird metaphors. A historian who turns dry facts into a gripping story. A researcher who isn’t afraid to poke fun at their own discipline while making people care about it.

It’s easy to assume that in an era of misinformation, the solution is more facts. Just explain things clearly, provide the data, cite the sources. But facts alone don’t change minds. People don’t share information because it’s accurate. They share it because it’s surprising, emotional, or just fun. Misinformation thrives because it tells a better story than the truth. The only way to fight back is to make truth just as compelling.

Being quirky doesn’t mean being silly. It means being memorable. It means breaking expectations just enough to make someone stop scrolling and actually pay attention. It means letting people see the human behind the research. Because people trust humans more than they trust institutions.

You don’t have to reinvent yourself. You just have to lean into the things that make you, or your work, unique. Maybe it’s the way you explain things, the weird connections you make, the small rituals in your lab that somehow stick. Maybe it’s a strange but effective way of teaching, or a habit of seeing patterns where no one else does. That’s where the magic is. That’s where people stop, listen, and actually care.

In a world where misinformation is polished and confident, truth needs an edge. And sometimes, that edge is just a little bit of quirk.

— João