Imagine you’re in middle school, visiting a friend’s house. Your friend launches into an argument with their parents, transforming their living room into an emotional battleground. You sit there, awkwardly studying the family photos on the wall, trying to become invisible. Everytime someone bashes themselves in front of me this is how I feel. Not only do I lack sympathy but I feel like I’m put in a ZONE for no reason whatsoever. It pisses me off.
For starters, I don’t know the right course of action to proceed with. Do I console? Do I compensate? Why am I invited to this performative shaming ritual?
It particularly grinds my gears because I feel like many people use this for compliment fishing. It’s like when teenagers post photos with “NOOO I’M SO UGLY DON’T LOOK AT ME” captions. It feels insincere. It is insincere.
That being said, we all grapple with our demons. Moments of insecurity, sadness, and shame visit us all – those times when the world feels too vast and we want to shrink into nothingness. From that space, reaching for connection is natural, even necessary. But surely there must be a more authentic way to bridge that gap.
The 2010s birthed a particular mode of social interaction that still echoes today: performative darkness wrapped in hyperbolic cynicism, relentless self-deprecation masquerading as humor, an allergy to sincerity that forces everything through the filter of sarcasm. (I know you’re already picturing someone!)
Beyond being the hallmark of a certain alt culture, self-deprecation serves another function: performative humility. While narcissism dominates our cultural conversation, we rarely examine its quiet counterpart – humility. Our collective understanding of humility has become twisted, warped into something that bears little resemblance to its true nature.
Humility is the quality of having an accurate understanding of yourself. Therefore, when we spiral into monologues about our terrible, irredeemable nature, we’re operating from the same distorted mindset as arrogance and narcissism. True humility neither denies earned pride nor condemns ambition. Rather, it demands we acknowledge our desires honestly, recognizing that having aspirations doesn’t elevate us above the human condition.
Last year one of my research topics was pride & hubris and it was a deep dive. My initial intrigue became a bit of a roller-coaster but I’m quite content with where I ended up.
What is hubris?
Hubris has two qualities 1) It makes you lose touch with reality 2) It’s a transgression against the divine order
When we perceive ourselves to be better or worse off than we actually are we are operating from a narrative rather than reality. This misalignment prevents us from occupying our earned place in the world, making genuine connection impossible. We become phonies, shells of ourselves. Even babies can tell if we earned our pride or if we’re faking it. Pride connects, hubris disconnects.
Yet, if we had always accepted our rightful place in life the human civilization would not have gone so far. Prometheus would never have dared steal fire from the gods.
Hubris isn’t an artificial construct or modern invention – it’s woven into our essential nature, our fundamental operating system. We aren’t living in an unprecedented age of narcissism; we’re simply expressing our species’ inherent arrogance. We will always have a small fire in ourselves telling us to go further. All this is more of a reason to cultivate humility within, so that fire lights the road and paves the way instead of burning us to the ground.
Humility includes where hubris excludes. Humility adapts to life’s realities while hubris demands exception. Humility acknowledges desire openly; hubris operates in denial.
I completely agree with Kierkegaard here. The only way to meaningfully engage with life is through vulnerability and the only way to achieve this is to wave our hubris goodbye and land back in reality. Even when it’s painful.
Going back to my initial example, in our difficult moments, is it possible to embrace a more raw approach? Facing the difficult, the painful. Instead of hanging on to a false narrative. Letting people in particularly at those times. Not completely perhaps but gradually. Wouldn’t this approach build a more resilient foundation for selfhood? I think it would.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth, no amount of sarcasm or cynicism can prevent or protect any one of us from suffering. When loss, heartbreak or grief hits, we all suffer. By hanging on to any of these, we’re not gaining immunity to pain, we simply live in exile.
Call your long lost best friend, send that apology, ask for the help, and tell someone you love them.
Merry Christmas,
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