For over three decades, Joy Behar has been a defining voice on daytime television. Sharp, candid, and unapologetically herself, she has weathered every storm that comes with fame — from political firestorms to public criticism — without ever losing her sense of self. In a recent candid discussion on The View, Joy peeled back the curtain on what really keeps her grounded in an industry built on pretense and performance.

It began as a lighthearted chat between Joy and her co-host, who joked about how the morning had been unusually pleasant. The reason? They skipped the notoriously stressful “Hot Topics” meeting — a daily ritual where producers and hosts debate which stories will make the cut for the live show. “The hot topics meeting is killing us,” Joy admitted, laughing with relief. “It was like Christmas morning not having to go through it.”

But the moment quickly turned introspective. Joy began to reflect on what it means to stay authentic — both on camera and off. “The secret to my longevity is not that I’m so brilliant,” she said. “It’s that I’m just who I am.”

It’s a statement that sounds simple, almost cliché, until you realize how rare authenticity truly is in television. After thirty years of watching hosts, celebrities, and politicians rise and fall, Joy knows that audiences can always tell who’s genuine. “People can see through that stuff,” she added. “When you’re not authentic, it doesn’t work over time.”

Her co-host chimed in, recalling encounters with several U.S. presidents — each one, he said, carried a sense of authenticity that made them memorable. Joy agreed, connecting that same principle to success in television. “I work with people who are exactly who they are on and off screen,” she said. “That’s what makes this job worth it.”

The conversation meandered — as only a Joy Behar conversation can — through humor, personal anecdotes, and unexpected life lessons. They joked about Halloween costumes, debating why the show won’t do them this year. “You don’t want to talk about the Middle East while dressed as Little Orphan Annie,” Joy quipped. Last year’s costume-free Halloween episode turned out to be The View’s highest-rated in years, proving once again that maybe authenticity, not theatrics, draws the audience in.

Then came a lighter — yet unsettling — moment. Her co-host confessed he planned to scare his daughter with a Michael Myers mask. Joy’s reaction was instant and sharp: “Don’t do that. She’ll be terrified.” What followed was a rare glimpse of her motherly side. “When I was a kid, I saw a movie that haunted me for life. You carry those fears forever,” she said, her tone shifting from comic to compassionate. “I would never traumatize a child like that.”

It was a striking moment of vulnerability from a woman better known for quick wit and biting humor. But as the conversation continued, it became clear that Joy’s humor has always been her way of facing life’s darker corners.

She spoke about her upcoming play, set in 1981 — a time, she noted, when workplace sexism was rampant. “In my play, the executive producer is a sexual harasser,” she explained, unapologetically. “Because at that time, you could be that. I think it’s an important element, because the play is about a TV show — and that was the reality back then.” When her co-host joked that people might assume the character was based on someone real, Joy shot back, “The world doesn’t revolve around you. The play is about the period.”

That blend of humor and fearless honesty has always defined her voice — both on and off the screen.

Joy also opened up about her personal life, describing a recent trip to Florida to celebrate her husband’s aunt turning 95. “My husband deserves good behavior from me,” she laughed. “He’s very good to me. He protects me, takes care of me — I have to reciprocate once in a while.” The affection in her voice revealed a softer side that her audience rarely sees.

But perhaps the most poignant moment came at the very end, when a young aspiring writer named Alexandra asked Joy how to overcome the fear of being judged. Without hesitation, Joy replied, “Everybody has that fear.”

She recalled performing her one-woman show Me, My Mouth and I at the Cherry Lane Theater. It was a hit — packed houses every night. Yet one review from The New York Times cut deep, not because it was negative, but because it was dismissive. “He didn’t even review the play,” Joy said. “He just wrote that if you don’t like my politics, you won’t like the show — even though it wasn’t political at all.” Her voice carried the mix of frustration and humor that comes only with experience. “Now,” she added dryly, “he writes obituaries.”

Her message to Alexandra — and to anyone struggling with judgment — was both tender and empowering. “Everyone suffers from rejection,” Joy said. “The key is to be in an environment that’s not judgmental. That’s why I have my writing groups. You can form your own — no criticism, just creation.”

It was the kind of advice that only someone who’s spent a lifetime in the public eye could give. Not sugarcoated, not idealistic — just real.

In the end, Joy Behar’s secret to longevity isn’t a secret at all. It’s the courage to stay the same person when everything around you changes. It’s the willingness to laugh, to feel, and to speak your truth — even when people judge you for it.

And that, more than anything, is why she’s still here.