Humility is upheld as a virtue. In fact, it is celebrated as such. But is it really a virtue, always?
We have been conditioned to think that we need to be modest about ourselves and need to downplay our accomplishments. When we shine a light on our achievements, we are quickly labeled as ‘arrogant’, ‘proud’, and ‘show-off’.
And I don't get it.
I do understand that flaunting our material gains- that flashy new car, or that shiny new gadget- things that our parents bought and not earned by us should be discouraged. But what about the wins we genuinely earn? That win in the race, we did earn it. That position in the exam, we worked hard for it.
Alas, we still don't own it. We are not allowed to. These wins are attributed to Divine Intervention, or because it's our parents nurture (and not our nature) that got us there, or just plain luck. The messaging is clear. Our wins are not ours to own enough to celebrate.
This might have been acceptable if the blame for our failures wasn't put squarely on us. However, the rules change here mysteriously.
Imagine this. You were doing well in school. In fact, you excelled. Your parents proudly boasted about how good a student you were. They basked in the glory of the congratulatory remarks of their family and friends who credited it all to how well they raised you as a responsible, studious young child. You are a trophy kid. Your parents may have humbly mutter, yes, all praise to the Almighty, he gave us such a great kid, while patting themselves on the back.
Fast forward to college and your grades start to dip. Perhaps, you were distracted or maybe the competition was fiercer in the Ivy League. Maybe you were trying to cope with the challenge of living independently for the first time. Does that matter? The fact is that your performance has taken a hit, and you are not a trophy kid anymore. No one wants to share this burden, let alone own it. In fact, your parents call you and tell you how disappointed they are in you. They think you have not worked hard enough, or that you don't know how to manage your time, or some other reason. The verdict is clear: YOU FAILED!
Read that again! YOU FAILED. This time though, the responsibility is solely yours. Divine Intervention, or exemplary parenting are suddenly out of the equation. Your failures, it seems, are yours alone!
And this is where my understanding starts to falter. Growing up, I was told that I was doing well because of who my parents were, or how they brought me up, or because God was super pleased with me for being nice. The successes therefore were never truly mine to own or celebrate. And if I did want to, humility came into play. I had to stay humble.
Yet, when it came to failures, I was also to keep it hush hush. It seemed like my parents didn't want to tarnish their image of exemplary parents. Or perhaps, they didn't want the world to know that God did not favor me anymore.
This is where I start to get confused. If I am expected to own my failures, why aren't my successes equally mine to celebrate? As a fairly religious person I don't attribute my failures to God. I understand that results are based on effort and sometimes they may not come immediately. I also appreciate and acknowledge my parents’ role in shaping my life. However, why must I downplay my achievements and yet fully own my failures all alone?
This imposed modesty, this facade of staying humble yet hollow, is what I have come to identify as Toxic Humility.
Toxic Humility is when we are asked to suppress our accomplishments, suggesting we never truly deserved them. It is the wrong expectation of us to remain silent about our achievements, as if we were never capable of such feats. Toxic Humility happens when if we even dare to share our success stories so others can also learn and get inspired, we are labeled as boastful. And it's toxic because we are expected to bear the burden of our failures, but the glory of our successes has other claimants, and we are not on the list.
The impact of this toxic humility is profound. The obvious is the dent in our confidence and self-esteem, among other repercussions. Delving into these requires another discussion entirely, something I’d take up in an upcoming article. For now, just remember, your successes, whether you choose to celebrate them or not, are as much YOURS as your failures. Own them and be proud of the journey you are undertaking. It's worth every moment of it!
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