Mini Essay: On Toxic Positivity and Privileged Disengagement

When artificial positivity and spiritual bypassing become erasure.

Compartmentalizing for the sake of mental health is one thing — it's often necessary. But I really struggle to relate to people who glide through life as if everything's sunshine and rainbows, completely oblivious to the complex social realities simmering right beneath the surface. And don't even get me started on the spiritual bypassing version of that ("healing is only internal"). And then there are folks who only care as long as it doesn't challenge their own carefully curated view of the world.

At best, this mindset is a limiting or unhealthy coping mechanism. At worst, it's a privileged form of willful ignorance that quietly reinforces the very systems we should be questioning. This isn't just personal – it's a collective psychological defense that allows systemic issues and certain power dynamics to remain unacknowledged and unchallenged.

This creates an authenticity barrier. When I have to act like everything's great, stick to surface-level dialogue, or carefully edit my experiences just to keep someone else in their comfortable bubble, I lose a sense of emotional safety and genuine connection. It’s not just about personal comfort – it shows a deep lack of empathy, curiosity for others' experiences, and genuine engagement with the complex realities of our world.

I’ve started feeling deeply disconnected from artifically positive people and increasingly alienated by spaces where it’s the unspoken rule — those so-called spiritual and “radical expression” communities that talk about transformation but recoil from any genuine confrontation with systemic pain, ultimately weaponizing positivity as a form of erasure. These spaces – often dominated by white, middle-class perspectives – transform radical healing into a consumable product. It's spiritual capitalism: individual healing packaged as a luxury good, carefully cordoned off from real-world struggles.

The truth is, our personal choices of disengagement have real consequences. Every time we choose not to see, not to listen, not to engage, we're essentially voting for the status quo. We're perpetuating systemic disconnection in ways both subtle and profound. Personally, I feel caught between sanitized spaces where I feel increasingly alienated and more genuinely conscious, engaged communities where I’m slowly finding my footing.

That said, I recognize that not everyone has the emotional capacity or privilege to constantly engage with challenging social issues. I understand that the ability to process systemic injustices differs based on individual experiences, mental health, and personal circumstances. And there are times where that's just an excuse – a convenient shield against necessary discomfort.

I've noticed marginalized people seem to understand this differently – not because they're more virtuous, but because they don't have the luxury of disconnection. Their lived experience has demanded a deeper read of how the world actually works. Women, BIPOC, people from the global south have seen firsthand the systems and legacies of oppression, exploitation, and marginalization. Their perspectives aren't just opinions; they're hard-won insights carved from direct experience. And because of this, they're often the most powerful voices standing up for global justice – whether it's speaking out about Palestine, fighting for LGBTQ rights, or defending reproductive freedom.

Real connection and genuine conversation demand more than intellectual theory (though I’ll take that over total obliviousness) or performative empathy. They call for the courage to sit with discomfort, the curiosity to explore perspectives unlike our own, and the humility to listen—not to speak louder, but to truly hear, even what’s left unsaid. Genuine solidarity isn’t just about showing support with words; it’s about taking tangible action to uplift others, whether through resources, advocacy, or amplifying their voices. They require recognizing that we don’t have all the answers and that the most powerful insights often come from voices historically pushed to the margins. I want dialogue that doesn’t just acknowledge difference but actively centers experiences that challenge our deepest assumptions about how the world works.

Comfort isn't neutrality. Silence isn't peace. And our individual choices ripple out in ways we can't always see – creating invisible networks of complicity or resistance with every moment of engagement or withdrawal.