Before You Comment: What’s Really Driving the Need to Say Something?

I’m seeing it more and more on my feed lately—videos of creators being their most joyful, vulnerable, expressive selves… followed by a second video. A response. A clarification. An emotional processing session because someone in the comments had something to say.

“You’re beautiful, but that’s not your colour.” “Love you, but this isn’t flattering.” “I just think if you wore something different, it would show off your figure better.” “Have you considered giving the money that was donated to your family to someone else in need?”

It’s often not the openly cruel comments that land the hardest. It’s the ones delivered with a smile. The ones that begin with “just trying to help” or “coming from a good place.” The ones that come from you.

So this isn’t a post for the trolls. This is a post for the well-meaning people. The ones who truly believe they’re being supportive, or helpful, or kind—but still feel compelled to point out something that wasn’t asked of them.

And I’d like to gently ask: What’s really behind the need to say it?

Your Comment Is a Mirror

When you see someone show up with confidence or joy, and your first instinct is to suggest how they could do it better, it’s worth pausing. Because often, that impulse has very little to do with the person in front of you—and much more to do with what their expression stirs in you.

• If their joy feels too much, is it because you’ve learned to mute your own?

• If their outfit feels unflattering, is it because you’ve been taught to scrutinize yourself the same way?

• If their confidence makes you uncomfortable, is it because you haven’t been allowed to take up that kind of space?

We are trained to believe that feedback is a gift—but unsolicited advice is not the same thing as support. Especially when it targets someone’s body, voice, emotions, or way of being. When someone chooses to express themselves online, they’re not asking for a performance review. They’re offering a moment of themselves to the world. And if it triggered something in you, that’s your invitation to pause—not project.

Ask Yourself This Before You Hit "Send"

Before you leave a comment—especially one framed as “just trying to help”—ask yourself:

• Was I asked for my opinion?

• Do I know this person’s full story—or just the 15 seconds I saw?

• Am I actually offering support, or am I trying to manage my own discomfort?

• What part of me feels unsettled by their joy, vulnerability, or freedom?

  
  

That last question might be the hardest one. But it’s also the most powerful. Because if someone else’s self-expression makes you feel the need to offer correction, advice, or restraint—it’s not about them. It’s about you. And that’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s something to be curious about.

Kindness Isn’t Always Comfortable

Kindness doesn’t always feel like comfort. Sometimes it feels like holding your tongue when everything in you wants to jump in and fix. Sometimes it means sitting with the part of you that feels triggered instead of handing that discomfort to someone else to carry.

And sometimes kindness looks like letting people be, even when you wouldn’t have made the same choice they did.

If you truly want to support someone, the kindest thing you can do isn’t to point out how they could change—it’s to accept who they are now.

Because That’s What You Want, Too

You want to be seen. Not managed. You want to be celebrated. Not corrected. You want your joy to be witnessed, not weighed against someone else’s preferences.

So if you’ve ever commented in a way that came from a good place, but didn’t land that way—this isn’t about guilt. It’s about growth.

We all want to live in a world where people feel safe to be themselves. And that starts with learning how to see others clearly—without needing to change them.

Sometimes, that means celebrating in silence. Sometimes, that means offering a heart instead of advice. Sometimes, that means turning inward and asking: What is this bringing up in me?

The comment you don’t leave is the one that lets someone feel safe being themselves. Because intention doesn’t erase impact.