You have to learn to be okay with making other people unhappy
It's not selfish to pursue ideologies, lifestyles, or relationships that are controversial.
In another world, I never deconstructed, and I never moved to Richmond. I’m a proud resident of Cleveland, Tennessee, and I’m part of the Westmore Church of God women’s ministry. I’ve got two kids who are being raised as mini-federalist Republicans, a husband with a long, storied career at some family friend’s small business, and somehow, we have enough money to make it work. Maybe my grandmother never disowned me? Maybe I even became a Trumper — a world of cliches and something I genuinely can’t recognize in myself since the sorts of Republicans I did support during my short years of voting GOP as an adult were ones like Ron Paul and John McCain. My parents are Republicans, but they are not Trumpers. They get vaccinated, think of themselves as accepting people, and consider anything QAnon-esque to be idiotic. My mom liked Ben Carson. My dad liked Marco Rubio. Now, they (like me) don’t like anybody in American politics. You get the vibe.
Perhaps I only had one tattoo — visible tattoos can still render long stares from the folks in my hometown. If I had any foray into non-monogamy, it might have been adultery, and that would become decades-long lore all around the city. Or maybe I’d be miserable and in the midst of several mental crises.
Regardless, I always wonder if this would have made my family and friends happy. Would my parents be proud of me, and would they share my articles if they were about mundane topics or sanitized Christian beliefs? Hey, maybe.
Obviously, that’s not the world I live in. I’m here now. I’m polyamorous, and I have a family structure that the majority of people either explicitly dislike for various reasons or, at the very least, would certainly never partake in themselves. I’m bisexual, which, while more common among younger people, is still subjected to both homophobia and biphobia. I’m a progressive Christian with a theology that the majority of other Christians consider heretical. I get downvoted on progressive Christian subreddits when I bring up non-monogamy or communism. I can name several Christian LGBTQ+ organizations or individuals who refuse to affirm non-monogamous people.
I have decidedly leftist views: most other Americans are to my right on almost every issue and consider my perspectives to be “too much.” They won’t bring up Palestine or capitalism in their lectures, Substacks, or books, and the idea of any actual organized labor overthrowing anyone or actually dismantling a comfortable-for-them American political system shakes them to their core.
Needless to say, I’m not exactly popular or well-liked overall, despite my very modest success. Now, in person, I can be charming. This is because I genuinely enjoy spending time with other people. I pride myself on the ability to have “extreme” (to me: Christian) beliefs and views without affecting my interactions with other human beings. The majority of people on this planet are not like me in any way, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t human beings created by a loving God and worthy of connection, safety, and basic necessities.
But I don’t try to make them like me anymore. I don’t try to make them happy. I used to, don’t get me wrong. I still have elements of people-pleasing in my life, and I generally think it’s healthy to be on good terms with folks in your community and family and to do what you can. But I know my boundaries (actual boundaries, not just invisible rules I impose on other people) and my priorities in my day-to-day schedule. While most of us wish we had more time or better time management, I’m pretty secure in my life. And open because I have nothing to be ashamed of, and I refuse to make my life a source of shame due to other people’s discomfort.
Stop caring what other people think because that just means you’re trading your own happiness for theirs.
Currently, I’m going through a fit of homebodyism. This happens to me occasionally: it’s just lifelong clinical depression, my least favorite but most recognizable and publicly acceptable mental illness. It’s not as trendy as my other mental illness, ADHD, or as taboo as my BPD. It’s not as easy for me to overcome as my anxiety disorder is. Depression is the worst one for me because my other mental illnesses might make my life and relationships more difficult and complicated, but they don’t make everything feel worse all the time. One of the ways I get over it is to just sit at home and rest a bit while gradually forcing myself to stay active in the ways I most appreciate: parenting, cooking, spending time with my primary partners, taking care of animals, working, and leaving the house to do a thing at least once a week. (Usually church.) I also make myself exercise, which, unfortunately, always helps.
As such, I watched all of Baby Reindeer on Netflix in two days. This is a show I cannot recommend if you have any sort of easily triggered trauma or are just a sensitive person in general, but you can read up on it if you wish. If you’re an artsy person burned out on perfect victim and perfect villain media, exhausted and upset by pop psychology Tumblr social justice trends, or just really feel like a fucked up (real) person; however, I do recommend it. I loved how fucked up the show was. It’s not really a drama, despite being about traumatic subjects: a man being stalked by an older woman and separately experiencing rape and sexual assault at the hands of a career superior, then questioning his sexuality as a result of that. It’s a black comedy. And for me, that made it easier for me to watch.
Hopefully, I will not post any spoilers, but one of the things I best liked about this show was watching the main character continually make terrible decisions that led to worsening outcomes for him. Why? He loves attention, he gets something from it, and he’s totally avoidant of conflict. Worse than that, he really cares what other people think and wants to make other people happy. He stated that one of the things he most loved about his stalker was making her laugh. This fear of what others think is what causes him to mistreat his trans girlfriend and make other questionable choices. If you watch this show, you might be crying or screaming at the main character, or if you do a little bit of introspection, maybe you’ll find you have a little bit in common with both the victims and the villains.
Many of us are people-pleasers because we think it’s selfless. People raised in Christianity — especially women, I might add — believe we need to sacrifice our own comfort to make other people happy. This leads people to stay in abusive relationships and situations or generally think of lifelong misery as some sort of heavenly sacrifice for the good of others and, therefore, the good of “the kingdom” or whatever. We have to constantly forgive.
I deeply believe in forgiveness; I find it vital not only in our love for each other but also in our love for enemies. I know that patriarchal Christian beliefs centered around “forgiveness” have set a path for women and children to be meek and submissive when their parents or husbands abuse them. These Christians are told again and again to sacrifice their own safety, much less happiness, for people who harm them. It’s a difficult mindset to get out of.
I am often called “brave” for… existing. The worst is when I wear a swimsuit or something revealing as a bigger woman, and I’m called “brave” for doing it. This is just my body? But I’m also called brave when I publicly decry something immoral or express more leftist beliefs than the liberal, sanitized exvangelical influencers would dare to, lest they lose book endorsements from older progressive hippies or see a loss of income. I’m called brave for talking about being polyamorous, which, to be honest, I do believe is brave. But still, it shouldn’t be. It should just be my normal life that I live, and I wish people’s reactions to it were nonplussed.
Regardless, the “bravest” thing I seem to do is just to be myself. Unashamedly. And yeah, I have an audience, sometimes. But if I didn’t, I would still be myself and live my life in a way that brings me happiness. Sure, I still struggle with depression. I’m struggling with it right now! But I don’t feel alone — more importantly, perhaps, I don’t feel trapped.
Some people, especially southern conservative Christians, worry about the “pain” their decisions about politics, identity, sex, and lifestyle might cause their family. I don’t think it’s wrong to consider how our actions affect other people. I have deep respect for my parents and other members of my family. But there isn’t anything “disrespectful” about being LGBTQ+, non-monogamous, non-religious, or having wildly different political beliefs from whatever the standard is.
I’d argue it’s worse for culture overall to lie to ourselves, lie to our families, and lie to society about who we are and what we want to pursue in our lives. It’s true that not giving in to conformity puts us in danger of isolation from our communities, which has happened to me many times in many different kinds of communities. But I’ve always picked myself back up and gotten closer to the people who mattered and who didn’t abandon me as I stayed true to my values, my needs, and my wants.
It goes without saying: those who actually love you will understand. They won’t abandon you just because you give up religion, come out as LGBTQ+, or have multiple relationships, and if your politics change, maybe they’ll try to consider why and ask themselves what it is that people like us see in differing opinions.
You can’t always make everybody happy, you know. You shouldn’t try, either. It’s not going to succeed, and you’ll end up sacrificing your joy. Trying to please everyone else is like digging a hole into the sand on the beach and trying to fill it with water: the sand will keep soaking up the water forever and ever. It will never be enough. And sure, if you dig deep enough, the water will come up from below — and by the time you’re there, you’re in a greater danger of falling in.
There are a lot of people out there — Side B Christians, for instance — who think they’re doing something noble by sacrificing elements of personal happiness for God and their conservative families and for God. Like forgiveness, I think sacrifice is important; in fact, my entire economic philosophy is based on the idea that those of us with too much should share with those who don’t have enough. I would certainly exchange my life for the well-being of others in an emergency, or at least I’d like to think so. It seems to me, however, that people are unwilling to sacrifice what would actually be beneficial (money, ambition) and would rather sacrifice the things they think will make other people the most comfortable.
Renouncing every scrap of joy and pleasure isn't beneficial to you or your relationship with God. I practice Lent and believe in moderation in all things, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sacrifice my family and my lovers at the altar of propriety on vague, ancient theological notions about what sex and love are supposed to look like according to same scriptures that saw women traded as property between father and husband. I’m not going to deny my attraction to people of the same gender, and I’m not going to censor my political opinions to make raging conservatives or uncomfortable liberals feel better. I’m going to continue to wear and eat what I like, and that’s that.
In Baby Reindeer, we see elements of how the main character sacrifices his own safety and happiness to achieve acceptance, attention, and ambition. He’s miserable, but he wants to continue on a path that keeps the peace at all costs. In a way, the series demonstrates that it’s almost as selfish to act that way as to be a more stereotypical self-serving person who puts their own needs above those of others. It’s not good for the people around him, the people who may also be affected by his tormentors or his tormentors themselves.
I realize how cliche it is for a progressive Christian to quote Mary Oliver, but Mary Oliver’s poem “Don’t Hesitate” changed my life and my perspective. If you’re unfamiliar (and I’m guessing at least half of my readership will be familiar), I hope it has a similar effect on you:
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.
Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.