Whataboutism, Triggers, and the Sacred Pause: A Call to Deeper Reflection
- lissawhiteman
- May 12, 2025
- 3 min read
There’s something I’ve been witnessing a lot lately in conversations online, in circles, even within sacred communities. It’s a sneaky pattern, often masked as moral concern or fairness. But underneath, it holds a very different energy.
It’s called whataboutism.
You know it when you see it. Someone shares their lived truth, something real and vulnerable, and instead of deep listening or curiosity, another voice jumps in:
"But what about [this other issue/person/group]?"
Suddenly, the truth that was being shared is derailed, hijacked, or diminished. The person sharing is left questioning whether they even had the right to speak it.
The Emotional Hijack
Whataboutism is often less about dialogue and more about deflection. It rarely invites expansion; it shuts down exploration.
It can sound like empathy, but it’s really an avoidance tactic. It says, "Let’s not sit with this truth, it makes me uncomfortable. Let's redirect."
Ponder this:
When someone’s truth makes you bristle, can you pause before responding?
Can you ask yourself, "Is this discomfort about them, or is it about something in me that hasn’t been met yet?"
The Difference Between Being Seen & Centering Yourself
Here’s the thing: Wanting to be seen is holy. We all deserve that. But centering yourself in someone else’s sacred truth? That’s a wound speaking over a revelation.
Not every conversation is meant to include everyone. Sometimes a space is carved out to speak to a particular experience, and your job isn’t to wedge yourself in, but to listen, learn, and honour it.
Let’s take the example of "not all men." When women speak out about violence, oppression, or the fear they live with, it is not an invitation for men to defend themselves. Saying "not all men" derails the conversation. Of course it’s not all men—but it is some, and that should be a call to action for those who aren't part of the problem to actively become part of the solution. Speak up. Call out the bullshit. Protect women, children, and other men from harm.
Personally, as a white Pākehā woman living in Aotearoa New Zealand, I see this dynamic play out a lot when I follow and learn from Indigenous creators. When Māori or Pasifika voices share their pain, their anger, their lived experience of colonisation, racism, and intergenerational trauma, there is always some white person who pops in and says, "But not all Pākehā!" Again, that’s not the point. That response is taking up space and making it about you. It’s a perfect example of whataboutism cloaked in fragility.
They are not saying all , they are sharing their truth. And if you’re listening properly, with a soul that's willing to be uncomfortable, you will hear it for what it is: a powerful and often painful perspective, not a personal attack.
Ponder this:
Have you ever taken offense at something not meant for you?
Can you begin to tell the difference between exclusion and specificity?
Triggers Are Doorways, Not Debate Invitations
If something triggers you, that’s not always a call to speak out, it’s often a call to go inward.
Not all triggers are wrongs being done to you. Many are reflections of untended places within you.
Try saying:
"Wow, that brought something up for me. I need to sit with it."
"I feel triggered, and that’s my invitation to heal, not to interrupt."
Ponder this:
What has triggered you recently? Did you sit with it or speak from it?
What would it look like to turn the trigger into transformation instead of turmoil?
Responding With Compassion + Clarity
When whataboutism shows up, you don’t have to burn bridges or retreat in silence. But you do get to set the tone:
You might say:
"I hear you, but right now we’re holding space for this specific truth."
"This may not be your story and that’s okay. You’re invited to listen, not debate."
"This truth doesn’t invalidate yours. But this is not the moment to compare."
For Those Doing the Work
Here’s the raw truth: If you’re genuinely doing your inner work, if you’re showing up, healing, reflecting, staying open, most of this won’t trigger you. You’ll have the spaciousness to hold someone else’s experience without needing to assert your own.
If you are triggered, it’s not a failure. It’s an invitation. The discomfort is where the medicine lives.
Ponder this:
Are you using whataboutism to protect an identity you’re afraid to outgrow?
Are you reacting from a wound, or responding from a place of wisdom?
This world doesn’t need more loud opinions. It needs more sacred pauses.
More brave listeners. More people willing to sit in the murky, messy, misunderstood moments and still choose compassion.
If we want real change, we must start by making room for truth, especially the ones that aren’t our own.
Let truth speak. Let the trigger guide you. Let the sacred pause be your teacher.

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