WWhat do you like most about yourself? Stylist Love Yourself campaign asked more than 400 women about it and published eight pages of their responses. People mostly chose discreet, very specific things – “I can cook something out of nothing”; “I am very strong”; “I can talk to anyone”; “I have a great butt” – and it was nice and touching to see women affirming what they like about themselves. It was also strange—almost shocking? The stylist called the compliment “chill-inducing,” and yes, the thought of doing it myself made me cringe.
I feel something similar when I see people online expressing uncomplicated, justifiable pride in their accomplishments or vocally liking who they are—it's sort of a “is this allowed?” I feel like the rules have changed and no one told me. If toxic humility is a thing, then I definitely have it, because I get a masochistic thrill from self-deprecation, especially when it provokes someone to contradict me. I have a shopping list of things I hate about myself that I take out and enjoy sleepless nights, but deep down I don't really believe that I'm a worthless, incorrigible worm (even typing that seems transgressive!); Although I hate the idea of telling anyone about it.
It's weird, but I guess it's not that unusual – try it for yourself and see what it's like. Do you also squirm or are you a balanced person with healthy self-esteem? I'm sure I'm not the only one unable to express anything resembling self-love, and we can't all be deeply, individually, confused – it's our conditioning. “Humble” and “humble” are almost universally unambiguous compliments; most spiritual traditions value humility, and many peoples have a dysfunctional relationship with pride. In Scandinavia there is “Jante's law“, an expression coined to describe social disapproval that attracts a sense of specialness; in Ireland there is an idea that can easily be used as a weapon: “concepts' and in Britain the most unseemly thing you can be is to be yourself – we paradoxically pride ourselves on how humble we are.
And of course there is the cautionary tale of people who go too far in the other direction. In the age of LinkedIn bragging ( recent study found that praising oneself on an online platform helps mask professional incompetence), and stable master genius Donald Trump claiming he deserves or has received the Nobel Peace Prize “one of the highest” IQ and “strong common sense”. We've all met someone who says they're “very empathetic” or “easy-going” but exhibits the compassion of Caligula and the laid-back energy of Kim Jong-un. There is something very winning about the opposite: Claudia Winkleman – who certainly knows how brilliant she is – always claims that she's an orange doll who only gets jobs because she has distinctive bangs – and we adore her for it.
I also think that we are a species of storytellers, and a lack of self-belief makes for better storytelling—both the stories other people make about us and the ones we tell ourselves. If someone says they are good at something and then shows that they are really good at it, what's the surprise; What is the redemptive arc?
It's hard to go against all this, and maybe we don't need to: telling people we're lazy and stupid is an honorable tradition. But sometimes I wonder wistfully what it would be like to post a proud selfie at the gym or a piece of writing I'm happy with (I did it once, discovered I'd gotten something wrong, and nearly died of embarrassment – never again).
But can we at least whisper to ourselves that we are okay? Because it's clearly good for us. A meta-study A review of 129 articles published in October this year on self-affirmation (reflecting on your values and positive qualities) found that it had a positive effect on people's well-being and self-esteem that lasted about two weeks. When we tell ourselves that we are doing well, do we feel good? I can't decide whether this makes us simple or intricately complex creatures, but it makes me think more of us should give it a try.
Maybe we should start small and gradually build up (ugh) our self-love muscles? I'll go first: I'm pretty good at meeting deadlines. It's your turn.
