If toxic humility is a thing, I definitely have it. But perhaps there’s another way | Health & wellbeing

Wis your favorite thing at home? Stylist’s Love Yourself campaign asked more than 400 women this question and published eight pages of their answers. People mostly chose discrete and fairly specific things: “I can cook something from nothing”; “I am really strong”; “I can talk to anyone”; “I have a great butt” – and it was beautiful and touching to see women affirm what they like about themselves. It was also strange – almost shocking? The stylist called giving yourself a compliment “squirm-inducing” and yes, the idea of doing it myself made me squirm.
I feel something similar when I see people online expressing simple, justified pride in their accomplishments or loving who they are out loud – it’s a kind of “is this allowed?” I feel like the rules have changed and no one told me. If toxic humility is a thing, I definitely have it, because self-deprecation gives me a masochistic buzz, especially when it incites someone to contradict me. I have a shopping list of things I hate about myself and that I go out and enjoy during my sleepless nights, but deep down I don’t really believe that I’m a worthless, irredeemable worm (even typing that seems transgressive!); However, I hate the idea of letting anyone know.
It’s weird, but not that unusual, I think – try it yourself and see how you feel. Do you also squirm or are you a balanced person with good self-esteem? I’m sure I’m not the only one who is incapable of expressing anything resembling self-love and we can’t all be deeply, individually, messed up – it’s our conditioning. “Modest” and “humble” are unequivocal compliments almost everywhere; most spiritual traditions value humility, and many nations have a dysfunctional relationship with pride. In Scandinavia, there is “Jante’s Law”, a phrase coined to describe the social disapproval that comes with feeling a little special; Ireland has an easily weaponized idea of ’notions’, and in Britain one of the most unseemly things you can be is to be full of yourself – we are paradoxically proud of our humility.
Then, of course, there is the cautionary example of people who go too far in the other direction. There’s plenty of that in the age of LinkedIn swagger (a recent study found that getting big on the networking platform helped mask professional incompetence), with stable genius-in-chief Donald Trump claiming he deserves the Nobel Peace Prize, or that he has “one of the highest IQs” and “common sense.” We’ve all met someone who calls themselves “very empathetic” or “laid back,” but who displays the compassion of Caligula and the laid-back, anything-goes energy of Kim Jong Un. There’s also something very winning about the opposite: Claudia Winkleman — who surely must know how brilliant she is — always pretends she’s an orange puppet who only gets work because she has distinctive bangs — and we love her for it.
I also think that we are a storytelling species and that lack of self-confidence allows for a better narrative – both the stories that others construct about us and the stories that we tell ourselves. If someone says they are great at something, then goes on to show that they are indeed great at it, what’s the surprise; what is the redemptive arc?
It’s hard to argue against all this and maybe we don’t need to: telling people we’re lazy and stupid is an honorable tradition. But I sometimes find myself wistfully wondering what it would be like to post a proud gym selfie or piece of writing that I like (I did it once, found out I’d spelled something wrong, and almost expired in shame – never again).
But at least, could we perhaps whisper to ourselves that everything is okay? Because it’s obviously good for us. A meta-study published last October examining 129 articles on assertiveness (reflecting on your values and positive traits) found that it had positive effects on people’s well-being and self-esteem that lasted about two weeks. Does saying we are good do us any good? I can’t decide whether this makes us simple or bizarrely complex creatures, but it makes me think more of us should try.
Maybe it’s about starting very small and gradually building the (new) self-love muscles? I’ll start: I’m pretty good at meeting deadlines. Your turn.


