Last Friday, as I walked through the spot where Bed-Stuy, Bushwick, and East Williamsburg converge—the spot where you feel like you're in all three places but nowhere at once—on a bitingly cold December evening, I saw my friend in the distance. I hadn't seen this friend in a while, and the sight of them, as well as the anticipation of the dinner we were about to share and all that we would catch up on over skin-contact wine and shareable plates, brought me joy. I felt myself starting to smile, starting to truly let myself feel joy over the simplest thing, but my instinct was to stop myself, to literally force the smile away. These days, even if subconsciously, I feel like putting my joy on display will result in it being taken away, like I would be jinxing myself. Remaining neutral has been my ethos for my entire life—because if no one knows how you feel about anything, no one can hurt you. It made me think: does happiness feel embarrassing right now? Perhaps what feels embarrassing to me, is revealing my inner world, with happiness being the scariest, because it’s what I want to hold onto the most.
IMDB
Happiness feels embarrassing and social media seems to want us all miserable. Social media’s current cultural trajectory has turned into a sort of misery Olympics, in which everyone competes to share the worst traumas, experiences, and life stories. When it’s not personal anecdotes, it’s a particular brand of chronically online whataboutism that attempts to steal joy from innocent posters until they are miserable too. Recently, a woman in her early 20s shared a photo of her friends lounging in her cozy living room, a room decorated with healthy and thriving plants and decor that she chimed in to note is from Goodwill. The photo, posted on X, simply and wholesomely captioned “man i love my friends. first snow day!!” was met with a barrage of disgruntled X users who seemed to be particularly peeved that this woman was sharing a nice moment with her loved ones. One user wrote “I’ve been reminded of the friends I’ll never get.” The fact that she has a nice place to live, the fact that she has friends that she loves and, most importantly, the fact she was sharing both with the world was a direct threat to either A) their own happiness or B) their ideology that we should all be suffering and that no one deserves to be happy.
@tellthebeees #twitter #discourse #tellthebeees
Our collective misery is partially understandable. For an extended period of time, my Instagram algorithm has been a continuous loop of devastating videos of innocent people impacted by a genocide, dangerous hot takes from the president of the United Sates, warnings about the future of planet earth, the occasional reel of an influencer's outfits of the week or spotlight of a New York City restaurant that I decide I must check out and save to an overflowing folder. Along with many other people, I am experiencing a level of compassion fatigue, cognitive dissonance, apathy and overstimulation that humans have not yet totally been able to process. The result leaves me feeling insane for just consuming such devastating media and then even considering an evening out at a restaurant or new pair of shoes only moments later—the whiplash I experience on the heels of this overload has begun to feel embarrassing.
IMDB
Joy and happiness are some of the most vulnerable feelings, especially at a time where there is more bad news than good and our moments of joy are constantly being co-opted. "Opening oneself to the possibility of joy also means exposing yourself to potential disappointment and shame," psychotherapist Joseph Burgo writes. In turn, expressing joy is a vulnerable thing and, in my experience, can feel precarious—because disappointment and joy being snatched away can feel soul-crushing. Even just the initial feeling of joy, like that moment when I saw my friend in the distance on that freezing night, felt vulnerable for so many reasons: people seem to not want others to be happy. Colloquially, this is known as schadenfreude, and in our current cultural climate, people seem to carry more shame about being happy than they do about feeling comfortable celebrating other’s misery. In turn, being happy feels out of touch and, therefore, embarrassing.
@emmamastone the “just a reminder that this is not realistic” and it’ll be able like someone making hot cocoa and watching a movie before bed
'Foreboding joy' is a term coined by researcher and author Brené Brown to describe the feeling of dread that comes along with the feeling of joy. She describes joy as the most terrifying and difficult emotion that human beings experience. "When we lose our tolerance for vulnerability, joy becomes foreboding," she said. "What we do in moments of joyfulness is we try to beat vulnerability to the punch." So how do we, as a collective, express joy without being wary of ridicule, embarrassment, or impending doom? According to Brown, the key is to practice gratitude and reminding ourselves that “vulnerability is the birthplace of everything we’re hungry for.” While vulnerability can lead to rejection and backlash, it’s also the only way to achieve pure joy and connection which, at the end of the day, is what we all want.
By this thinking, the answer is quite simple. We feel compassion for those suffering, but also allow ourselves to go out for a nice meal. We try our best to be happy for those who are content. We let ourselves smile when we see a friend we love.
