There is a quiet shift but a Loud change happening among us; a rot spreading through our community, and it is time we call it by its real name. We have idolized mental health awareness so much and have become masters of new, sophisticated vocabularies; a language of boundaries, red flags, toxic traits, attachment styles, and more.
We use these terms to sound informed and evolved; we are using clever language to hide and get away with our mistakes. Instead of saying "I was wrong," we say "that is just my personality." Instead of saying "you hurt me," we say "that is your attachment style." This sounds smart, but it is actually destroying our community.
When someone treats us unfairly, we no longer confront the behavior with the hope of reconciliation; we explain it away to distance ourselves. We say they are avoidant, narcissistic, or damaged by childhood trauma. We treat every interpersonal friction as a case study, and in doing so, we strip people of their agency and ourselves of our responsibility.
Let us be clear: calling cruelty honesty does not make it integrity. Calling indifference does not make it strong. Calling chronic inconsistency how my brain works does not make it a valid personality trait; it is simply a lack of discipline.
The hard truth is that not every flaw is a disorder, and not every difficult conversation is an attack. Sometimes, we are simply immature. Sometimes, we are being selfish. Sometimes, we are just wrong.
In Rwanda, we were raised with the beautiful idea of "umuntu ni umuntu ku bandi bantu,” which loosely translates to ‘a person is a person through other people.’ This means our behavior matters to everyone around us. In the past, if you did something wrong, the community corrected you.
This was not an attack; it was a form of love. It was how we stayed strong. After the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi, our country did not heal by making excuses. It healed through gacaca; people holding each other accountable and facing the truth together.
It healed because people stood up and told the truth. They owned what they did, and they owned what they suffered. That honesty is what rebuilt our trust.
A community cannot grow where responsibility is constantly renamed to protect the ego. If we continue to hide behind vocabulary, our character weakens, and the wounds we refuse to own remain unhealed. We must remember that people are beautifully messy and inherently contradictory.
They will disappoint us and they will fail. But if we simply label them instead of addressing the behavior, we quietly accept a lower standard for humanity.
We must find the courage to say you hurt me instead of analyzing an attachment style, and I was wrong instead of blaming a personality type. The language of the heart is simple, and it requires no shield.
We are currently at risk of raising a generation that can explain everything but endure nothing. We have become allergic to discomfort, celebrating the act of cutting people off as if isolation were an achievement. We romanticize being nonchalant as if caring deeply were a liability.
But the community cannot survive on constant self-justification. It cannot thrive when everyone is diagnosing and no one is apologizing. A society survives on responsibility, families thrive on discipline, and children flourish through example. We must stop rebranding what is simply bad behavior and return to the restorative power of the truth.
Choosing responsibility over excuses
The community cannot survive if we are always making excuses. We cannot thrive if we are always diagnosing each other and never apologizing. We have started to celebrate "cutting people off" as if it is a victory, but isolation is not growth.
Real healing is found in ownership. It is found in the courage to say "I am sorry" without adding a "but." We can care about mental health without using it as a shield to avoid being better people. We can set boundaries without losing our connection to the community.
Our society deserves a generation that is both emotionally aware and morally firm. We can acknowledge trauma without worshiping it. We can set boundaries without isolating ourselves from the people who help us grow.
Healing is not found in a more expansive vocabulary; it is found in ownership. If you were unfair, admit it. If you were careless, repair it. If you were hurt, express it without dehumanizing the other.
Growth requires effort, and integrity requires the courage to be seen in our imperfection. If we want a stronger society tomorrow, we must become adults who own our character today.