You’ll Never Be Right, for the Wrong Person(s)
Real talk: the weight of others’ expectations often lingers heavily in our lives. Social media, workplace evaluations, and even our closest relationships amplify this feeling. Our evolutionary wiring—makes us seek belonging and validation (not a good thing or a bad thing, just an ‘is’ thing). Historically, this made sense: to be cast out of a community once meant peril from a physical death. But today, the digital gaze magnifies this instinct, and it means peril from a “social death,” distorting our sense of self. (Deaths of Despair is probably good reading, and Johann Hari’s work, also.)
So, let’s get into it - it’s not simply that “other people’s opinions don’t matter”—because they do, deeply. Human connection and mutual accountability are vital to thriving communities. The problem lies in how these connections have been commodified and weaponized by systems like capitalism, colonialism, and patriarchy.
Consider the act of judgment. We rarely pause to unpack it—a fleeting thought, a casual remark, or a glance over the hedge. In conversations with one of my patients (who has kindly invited me to share this), they reflected on a life spent feeling unsure, insecure, and deeply lonely. Through our sessions, it became clear that these feelings stemmed from never truly feeling present as themselves (or whatever that was supposed to feel). They described being “at your service” for everyone in their life, shaping themselves to fit their mother’s expectations, their father’s ideals, their friends’ desires, their teachers’ demands, and their bosses’ needs. It wasn’t simple people-pleasing; they believed they were challenging themselves, growing, and being flexible. They saw these shifts as healthy, as ways to improve.
Now, when someone sizes you up, they’re rarely seeing you for who you are. Instead, they’re measuring themselves against you, a reflection not just of personal biases but of a culture steeped in comparison. My patient explained how they often filled gaps for others—for other’s insecurities, their victimhoods—believing this to be a form of self-improvement. It wasn’t until they entered a relationship with someone who didn’t need or want those gaps filled, someone who took accountability and responsibility for themselves, that the difference became clear. For the first time, they understood the contrast between shrinking themselves to fit others and growing into their fullest, most authentic self. Growth wasn’t about erasing their edges; it was about expanding into their true potential.
Morgan Housel touches on this: when communities shared similar resources or lived in relative equality, as in tribal societies or the heyday of the middle class, there was less of this constant sizing up. No one was eyeing a Cyber Tesla across the fence—there wasn’t a fence. Social media amplifies this by presenting curated, often unattainable mirrors. It invites us to consume images of disparity—both those doing far better than us and, occasionally, those worse off. But here’s the twist: when we see someone struggling, it’s a fleeting moment of relief, a non-threat to our social standing. It’s the upward comparisons—to those doing better—that linger, shaping our perceptions of ourselves and others. The judgment isn’t truly about your worth; it’s about someone else trying to locate themselves in the social order.
This brings us to a central idea: You’ll never be right for the wrong person(s). This doesn’t mean you should abandon accountability or the effort required to nurture meaningful relationships. Rather, it’s an invitation to examine the delicate line between growth and conformity.
Before we go there, let’s recap:
We judge. Mainly for the purpose of figuring out where we fit in society and how safe we think we are. Many of us (some still are at home and abroad however) are not worried about physical survival but social survival.
We care about what other people think - refer to #1
Social media and globalization have made the amount of “people” so much larger, and the opinions of what and how you should do have become even more difficult to navigate, especially for people who have historically and continue to be minoritized.
It is a losing game, no one wins, but we all get sick.
Growth vs. Conformity
Growth in relationships—whether romantic, platonic, or professional—demands mutual effort. It’s about expanding into fuller versions of yourself, enhancing authenticity and connection. Conformity, on the other hand, asks you to shrink, to mould yourself into someone else’s vision of comfort or acceptability. The distinction between these two can be subtle but profound.
Healthy growth challenges us—but with care and reciprocity. A partner might encourage you to confront fears because they believe in your potential to overcome them, not because your fear inconveniences them. They may ask you to reexamine harmful patterns, not for their benefit, but because they trust in your ability to live more freely. Growth is mutual and life-affirming.
Conformity, however, feels transactional. It often requires silencing parts of yourself to maintain an illusion of harmony. If you constantly find yourself changing your speech, appearance, or boundaries to appease someone else, you’re not growing—you’re erasing yourself.
How Systems Shape the Pressure to Conform
This pressure isn’t just interpersonal; it’s systemic. Structures like white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism thrive on conformity, cloaking it in terms like “fitting in” or “professionalism.” From an Indigenous perspective, this demand for sameness is a profound violence against relational ways of being, where diversity and collective care are celebrated.
Feminist and queer critiques reveal how conformity disproportionately impacts those whose identities challenge societal norms. Womxn—especially those who are racialized or queer—are often expected to make themselves smaller, less threatening, and more palatable to succeed. Social media exacerbates this, inviting public commentary on who we should be.
Moving Toward Relational Accountability
How do we distinguish between healthy growth and harmful conformity? Here are some guiding questions:
Does this change align with my values? Growth feels expansive and rooted in your principles. Conformity feels restrictive and disconnected from your core self.
Is this change reciprocal? True relationships involve mutual investment. Are both parties equally committed to each other’s growth?
Am I silencing myself? If your voice, desires, or identity feel muted, it’s likely conformity, not growth.
Who benefits? Does this change enhance your well-being and strengthen your community, or does it primarily serve someone else’s comfort or power?
Indigenous teachings remind us that relational accountability extends beyond individuals—it includes our responsibilities to communities and the land. Feminist and queer frameworks emphasize that our liberation is interconnected; it requires recognizing our shared humanity and dismantling systems that demand conformity.
You’ll never be right for the wrong person(s), but you are enough as you are—broken, imperfect, learning, and trying. True connection begins with worthiness, and you need to know that you already have it. This understanding isn’t about rejecting relationships or resisting change. It’s about honouring your values and integrity. It’s about discerning when a connection invites you to become more of yourself and when it demands that you become less.
Remaining true to yourself in a world that constantly judges and compares is an act of resistance. But it’s also an act of grace—for yourself and for those who see you for the complexity, imperfection, and worthiness that define being human.
