No Silver Lining in a Hellscape
Unlearning Evangelical Optimism
“God won’t give you more than you can handle” is just a churchier way of saying “suck it up.”
I used to think I was resilient. The kind of person you want in a crisis, fast thinker, big picture planner, solid under pressure. It served me well when going toe to toe with the FBI, or in summoning the strength to leave two abusive marriages. I wore that like a badge of honor, maybe because I was taught to. But lately, I’ve been wondering if that wasn’t resilience so much as weaponized competence?
Weaponized Competence: The expectation that if you can, you must. That if you survive something once, it becomes your job to do it again, quietly, & without complaint.
Because when everything’s on fire, politically, personally, planetarily, what does it say about people like me that we’re still out here looking for silver linings? Frankly, it stunts processing your trauma. I’d know.
Trained to Smile Through Suffering
I was raised in a world where pain was proof of God's plan, where cheerfulness was a kind of moral hygiene. You didn't just have faith, you had to perform it, with a smile. Gratitude, joy, & deference were survival skills. Suffering was your opportunity to “glorify God.” Complaining meant you lacked perspective.
This wasn’t just toxic positivity. It was weaponized hope. A system designed to keep people compliant while they’re being crushed.
Growing up evangelical taught me that resilience means overfunctioning. Smiling through pain. Earning your right to rest by pushing yourself to collapse.
So of course I became the person who looked for the bright side in everything, who could find a lesson in every tragedy, a purpose in every breakdown, a calling in every crisis. And for a long time, that got me applause.
But you know what never came with that applause? Rest. Or grief. Or the space to just… fall apart. To be vulnerable. To be comforted.
Silver Linings Are a Distraction
When we rush to find the bright side, we skip the part where people get to name the harm. That’s not optimism, it’s gaslighting.
Saying “everything happens for a reason” is a tidy way to sidestep the messy truth: that some things should not happen. That cruelty isn’t a lesson. That grief doesn’t need to be cosplayed into purpose to be valid. That there is no moral prize for being the most emotionally functional while you’re bleeding out.
In activist spaces, this mindset sneaks in too. We’re so good at flipping trauma into talking points, so practiced at staying upbeat for the cause, that sometimes we forget the cause includes us. You don’t owe your community a smile while you’re unraveling. You don’t have to tap dance every injustice into a teachable moment. You don’t have to couch your beliefs in the status quo. You’re allowed to be passionate & your lived experience matters.
There’s no bonus round for being the most stoic in the face of systemic collapse.
What Happens When We Stop Performing?
I’m unlearning this in real time. Peeling off the mask that says “I’m fine”, not saying “I know, I’m a LOT” apologetically anymore & letting myself grieve what I was never allowed to name. That includes the church that raised me & betrayed me. That includes the years I spent trying to be “gracious” instead of angry. That includes the small child I once was, the one who thought if she just stayed grateful enough, obedient enough, good enough, she’d be safe.
Pro-tip: Avoid religion based therapists.
It’s unacceptable that often the only mental healthcare available to the low-income is offered by the same belief system we need deprogramming from.
No silver lining fixes that kind of hurt. Only truth can.
Hope Doesn’t Have to Be Happy
There’s a difference between hope & optimism. Optimism is often shallow, a demand that things will work out, even if we ignore the evidence. It’s insisting that we can just 'manifest’ a good outcome. Hope is something else. Hope can hold sorrow & still fight. Hope can sit with you in the dark without trying to flip on the light. Hope says: this is unbearable and we keep going.
The more I unlearn that old evangelical optimism, the more I realize that true solidarity lives in the shadows, in the moments where someone says, “Yeah, it’s awful. I’m here anyway.”
So, the next time someone, including ME tells you to look on the bright side of a bad thing? Tell us to STFU. Me especially. Because we’re gaslighting ourselves.
No need to smile. No need to make it okay. Just presence, honesty, & the freedom to fall apart without losing your people. That’s all we should ask of each other.
I’m over being optimistic. I’m going to try being a hopeful realist. We’ll see how it goes.
~AK