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Brené Brown and others have recently normalized the term “toxic positivity.” My preference remains “oppressive optimism,” but it’s the same basic idea. According to the psychology website Right as Rain, “Toxic positivity involves dismissing negative emotions and responding to distress with false reassurances rather than empathy. It comes from feeling uncomfortable with negative emotions. It is often well-intentioned but can cause alienation and a feeling of disconnection.” It’s this belief that people should maintain a positive mindset no matter how dire a situation is.
Toxic positivity is optimism run amuck. This cultural paradigm insists that the only acceptable and healthy mindset is to be positive 100% of the time and always “declare it good.” You just had a miscarriage? “It’ll be OK. God works all things together for our good!” Your marriage is suffering the consequences of distrust and trauma from an abusive childhood? “Everything happens for a reason!” Got diagnosed with terminal cancer? “Look at the bright side! You have time to get your affairs in order!” These people are obnoxious. Optimism and pessimism aren’t the only options.
Toxic positivity is a self-help cult. It instinctively rejects and represses difficult emotions while seeing this cheerful façade of false-positivity as an absolute moral good and spiritual virtue. In terms of theology, my theory is it reflects a widely (if subconsciously) held view within Christian culture about the pivot from the Old Testament to the New, from a culture of prophetic lament and longing anticipation to one of triumphal salvation and celebratory fulfillment. Think of the Advent wreath‘s symbolism with candles representing feel-good hope, peace, joy, and love.
Beatnik Christianity exists in the sacred tension of the “already” and “not yet” of divine hope. Our complex lives reflect the liminal space of Holy Saturday between Christ’s death on Good Friday and his resurrection on Easter Sunday. The radical hope of the Gospel is paradoxically most beautiful and restorative when we acknowledge the full extent of the individual brokenness and societal injustice in the world. We embrace praise and thanksgiving while simultaneously recognizing the essential role of grief and lament for those things “done and left undone.”
The original beatniks had an interesting relationship with frustration and hope. On the surface there’s resounding disappointment about how bad society sucks, but beneath it is this heartfelt attempt to imagine a more fulfilling way of living. They couldn’t stand oppressive optimism and were trying to cast an alternative vision for human flourishing. Perhaps I’m projecting, but my hunch is that Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, and most of the other Beat Generation writers would’ve appreciated having words for “toxic positivity.”
