I have long considered myself a true queen of self-care, so this blog post will be dripping with hypocrisy. I’ve always been seduced by the newest wellness technology (read: my sauna blanket), and always try the latest supplement (which I can say is “research for work” all day, but let’s be honest: I’m just as desperate to find a miracle pill as everyone else). But a few years ago, I started to be more aware of what was actually caring for myself. I’ve bought countless face masks and love a good massage, but nothing has cared for my self quite like healing my people pleasing tendencies and actually starting to prioritize my joy (not what influencers or experts told me joy was). I also learned how much BS is out there that teaches us that healing is not in our control, which is why I became a health coach to help other women learn that they are in charge and capable of their own healing, growth, and wellbeing. But’s let’s talk a little more about this “self-care.”

In 2022–especially after two years where all you could do was sit on your couch, make banana bread, and Amazon-prime shit you don’t need but swore would give you a jolt of feeling–the self-care industry is a multi-billion dollar industry. Two questions about this fact: why is “self-care” even considered an industry in the first place (when it’s a way of living we should all be abiding by, not an '“industry”) and how did caring for one’s self start to be defined by what you could buy? Think about it: When we think of self-care, most of us think of candles, bath salts, skincare, supplements, journals. It’s all products we need to purchase, which is subconsciously telling us that the way to heal is outside of ourselves (AKA we don’t have the tools or power already within us to feel happy or healthy), and that we will never be “enough'“–there is always something else to buy. The truth is that self-care started as an earnest effort to improve the wellbeing of the individual, but it has become yet another draining form of work. Today, self-care is just a shinier version of toxic productivity: always feeling like we need to be doing more or improving ourselves, which is ironic since the concept of self-care was originally meant to free us of the toxic productivity and consumerist culture.

“Self-care is just a shinier version of toxic productivity: always feeling like we need to be doing more or improving ourselves.”

As Phoebe Robinson points out in her book of essays Please Don’t Sit On My Bed in Your Outside Clothes (great read, BTW), self-care is not a 2000s phenomenon: it was also popular in the 1970s, spearheaded by the Black Panther Party. In this case, it was not a validation of proper grooming and self-growth, but more of a movement that marginalized people are just as entitled to healthcare and wellbeing. Audre Lorde–a political activist, poet, icon–also defined self-care for a totally different purpose (quoted in Robinson’s book), explaining that caring for the self is not self-indulgent; it’s self-preservation and “an act of political warfare.” Ironic that self-care once meant prioritizing individual well-being to retain optimal wellness to fight for the greater good. Wellness was used as the great equalizer.

Today, wellness has become less about the actual wellbeing of the self, and more about data about the self. We use apps to record our REM cycles, pace around our apartments so our Fitbits can congratulate us for hitting 10,000 steps, and work out with mini screens strapped to our wrists to tell us how many calories we burned and average beats per minute. Many times in my life, I have been seduced by the idea of “health data” too. It’s like an immediate pat on the back to remind us that we’re not actually complete garbage, but we tell ourselves we do it for “motivation.” All the obsession with “data” makes me wonder if we actually care about feeling happier and healthier, since we’re motivated by something totally external–not a “feeling” at all.

Instead of worshipping self-care, why don’t we change our world to be one where we’re already properly taken care of?

So here’s my bottom line: Instead of worshipping self-care, why don’t we change our world to be one where we’re already properly taken care of? What if we transformed the way we lived so much that we don’t need to consciously make time, budget, or energy to improve our wellbeing? Why don’t we dig deep and shift our lives from the ground up–doing the non-fluffy things to transition our reality from the inside out–so that candles can just be things that make our homes smell good and data can saved be for research and work, not as tools we use to externally validate our worth. Part of my mission with my content and programs is to change the idea of self-care. There’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to a gym membership or massage (I am huge fans of all these things and do all the above regularly), as long as you don’t do these things out of obligation to show the world how much you try. Spending our money on material things doesn’t have to be “bad,” but it shouldn’t be self-care. Instead, self-care should be redefined to be what The Black Panther Party and Audre Lorde meant, and what Robinson so eloquently explained: doing the work to heal your wounds, recharging your energy, and living out joy in order to make the most of this life, whatever that means to your purpose–bubble bath need not apply.