Being humble is a trap
Being humble is a trap
No more playing small
I recently came across a viral TikTok which really struck me: “Oh, she really sees herself, huh?” the woman said, the phrase intended as a dig. How very dare she like herself out loud, it implied.
It’s not the first time I’ve come across something like that. Criticisms like that one litter the comment sections of the confident, powerful women I follow, reminders to be humble, to simmer down, to not make others uncomfortable with all that… lack of self-hatred. It’s a reflexive judgment - Who does she think she is? A whisper that says don’t be too much. Don’t take up too much space. As though stepping into our full selves is a violation of some unspoken rule.
Like many of us, I learned early on that liking myself out loud came with the risk of backlash, and so I learned to stay a bit quieter about it, and in many cases even like myself a little less, as intended. I learned to be who I thought I was supposed to be, found myself, in small and big ways, contorting myself to fit into that, as if the things about me that make me unique are bad, or weird, or to be embarrassed of, instead of what they are: the things that make me who I am.
My therapist has often spoken to me about “curated authenticity,” but I’m only just starting to understand what she means; that curated authenticity isn’t outright dishonesty; it’s the version of yourself you know will be liked, the parts of you you’re willing to reveal because they fit in with what’s ‘acceptable.’ It’s the Instagram post you edit to feel relatable, not intimidating. But the idea that we’re somehow overstepping by being ourselves is, quite honestly, exhausting.
Seeing that TikTok made me realise just how deeply this message is ingrained in us - the message that seeing and believing in ourselves is somehow audacious, maybe even dangerous. How we’re taught that being “humble” is a virtue, that shrinking ourselves keeps us likeable; safe.
Growing up - and until now - I felt my power, but I also felt afraid of it. I was terrified that if I fully stepped into it, I’d somehow become someone unrecognisable, someone unlikeable. That I would be bossy or annoying or any of the other accusations so often levelled at women.
It makes sense, of course, that I - that we - have been socialised to fear it in the way that we have. Historically, if we risked being ‘unlikeable,’ we risked our social safety net, something which for women, has always been tied to compliance and modesty. We’ve been conditioned to see power as masculine, then, as something incompatible with love or compassion. As something that is not for us.
This fear of power, of standing out, has been reinforced by books like The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene, which cement power as something that is inherently manipulative, a weapon that can only be wielded in one way - and often against us. But by avoiding the power game altogether, we’re losing out in a world where it’s happening with or without us, I’m realising.
Because the truth is, we’ve been socialised to fear our power not because it’s dangerous for us, but because it’s dangerous for society - because it disrupts the status quo. But the status-quo badly needs to be disrupted. So, what now?
I just finished reading Unbound: A Woman’s Guide to Power by dominatrix and Taoist nun, Kasia Urbaniak, which opens with an important reframing:
“Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love,” reads the epigraph; a quote by Martin Luther King Jr.
It’s a reminder that the two can and should go hand in hand. That power is simply a tool - a way to stand firmly in who we are and use our voices effectively; a way to show up fully in the world.
Power is not, Kasia writes, “a mood, an outfit, a moment or a pose, it’s the ability to access your deepest desires, express them fully, and use them to influence other people and the world at large… to stop being a servant of the life you’re living and become a creator of the world you want.”
It felt like precisely the permission slip I needed, a reminder that power, wielded with integrity, can be a force for good, for healing, for making change. And just how much the world needs more people, more women, especially - saying, yes, I do see myself. And I’m not afraid to let you see me too.
I am no less safe for dropping that constant vigilance, I am learning; shrinking myself doesn’t make me better, doesn’t keep me safe; it just keeps me small.
And the truthest of truths: you don’t lose people when you let them see you, but you do lose yourself when you don’t.
-Alya xo
Let me know how / if you resonate with this in the comments, or email me directly by pressing ‘reply’ to this email.
The last time someone called me intimidating I corrected him and told him that it was he who felt intimidated and that was something he could explore. It took me decades to get to that point though.
Yes sss !