Victimhood is Poison

Embracing a victimhood mentality might seem empowering, but it’s the most disempowering thing you can do.

Before I became an advocate for boys and men, I considered myself a feminist. My passion was fierce and focused: I wanted to lift up girls and women in parts of the world where they face real oppression, like forced marriages and denial of education. Those battles still matter to me. But something shifted when I noticed a false equivalency in Western culture. Here, in the land of opportunity, a different kind of poison was spreading: the female victimhood mentality.

Girls and women are taught since they’re in elementary school that they’re treated and viewed as “less-than”. Men are the problem! Women have an instilled belief of “poor me” that they carry throughout their lives, and it fuels a gender war. I wrote children’s books to fight the female victimhood mentality. I traveled to DC to beg them to stop perpetuating female victimhood to get votes. I even got into a spontaneous debate with the late Senator Dianne Feinstein in a room full of her constituents, accusing her party of using women. I was determined to change the narrative that I believe is poisoning women, relationships, college campuses and communities.

But when I began calling out the injustices facing boys and men like the higher suicide rates, biased family courts, educational neglect, and endless cultural blaming and shaming, I was accused of the very thing I despise: pushing victimhood.

That accusation stings because it misses the point entirely. I’m not here to hand men a list of grievances but to raise awareness that we live in a society mistreating men when most people think it’s the other way around. I don’t want to preach to the choir, sending messages to those who already agree with me. I want to reach the people who don’t agree with me!

I’m still here to expose how victimhood, in any form, destroys lives. It doesn’t matter if you’re a woman or a man. The moment you wrap your identity in what was done to you, you surrender the power to decide what happens next. True empowerment isn’t found in memes or therapy-speak that keeps you circling the drain of blame but it’s forged in the fire of facing adversity head-on and choosing to take charge of your own life.

Over the past decade, victimhood has become a strange kind of currency. Suffer publicly, and the rewards flow in: likes, retweets, book deals, speaking engagements and even job promotions. Scroll through social media or flip on a reality show, and you’ll see it everywhere. Contestants don’t just share their stories—they weaponize them. “I’m a survivor of this, a victim of that,” they say, as if trauma is a badge that entitles them to special treatment. It works because our culture has been conditioned to respond with instant compassion, often at the expense of accountability. We’ve swapped “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” for “the system broke you, and someone else owes you repair.”

This isn’t harmless. Ideological thinking amplifies it. We slot people into identity boxes (oppressor or oppressed) based on race, gender, or background, then treat them accordingly. A woman’s struggles become proof of patriarchy. A man’s struggles? Often dismissed as “toxic masculinity” or privilege in disguise. It turns into division dressed up as justice. We discriminate with a clear conscience because, hey, we’re on the side of the victims.

Who really wins when everyone is competing to be the biggest victim? No one. Society fractures, relationships sour, and individuals stay stuck.

Camille Paglia, a great thinker I deeply admire, always nailed it: “We cannot have a world where everyone is a victim. ‘I’m this way because my father made me this way. I’m this way because my husband made me this way.’ Yes, we are indeed formed by traumas that happen to us. But then you must take charge, you must take over, you are responsible.” Yes. Trauma is real. Childhood wounds, betrayals, and systemic biases—they shape us. Denying that is naive. But wallowing in it? That’s surrender.

I see this play out with my girlfriends who swear by therapy and self-help books. They can recite every childhood slight, every ex who ghosted them, every boss who undervalued them. They name the traumas like trophies. “This is why I can’t commit.” “This is why I’m anxious.” The sessions feel productive at first because validation feels good, but too often they stop there. The focus stays on the people or systems that hurt them, not on the daily choices that could heal them.

Forgiveness sounds old-fashioned, almost offensive, in these circles. Yet without it, they remain chained to the past. I’ve watched bright, capable women shrink themselves into perpetual victims, wondering why happiness never comes. The answer is simple: they traded agency for sympathy.

The same trap waits for men. The injustices are undeniable. Boys are falling behind in school, diagnosed and medicated at higher rates, and entering a workforce that views masculinity itself as “the problem.” Family courts can strip fathers of their children and all of their resources with shocking ease. Male suicide rates are staggering. When I speak about these realities, I’m not asking men to play the victim card. I’m begging them not to. Blame women. Blame feminists. Blame “the matriarchy.” Do that long enough, and you spiral into helplessness. You stop seeing your own strength. You stop building the discipline, the resilience and the networks that could defy every odd stacked against you.

I’ve spoken with men who lost everything yet emerged stronger. They didn’t pretend the pain didn’t exist. They felt it, named it, then refused to let it define them. One father told me, “I could have spent years angry at my ex and the courts. Instead, I focused on being the best dad I could be on the weekends I had. That choice saved me.” That’s the difference between victimhood and victory. One keeps you small. The other forces you to grow.

I’ve said for a long time that a victimhood mentality leads to a victimhood reality. As a woman, if you believe you are a victim, weak, that men are the enemy, you leave yourself vulnerable which could bring in the exact situations you don’t want to happen.

Years ago, during my early days in Hollywood, I endured the typical “me too” experience with a Hollywood producer. I remember feeling stuck in a situation because “this is what happens to women.” Years later, when “me too!” became a chorus and women were calling out inappropriate men, I didn’t jump on that train. There were very legitimate accusations made and many women suffered horrible experiences including genuine rape. But I recognized how my beliefs and actions helped lead to the experiences I endured. Rather than call out the man, I offered to send him my empowerment books for his daughters. He has since owned up to his power trips and set becoming an amazing, loving dad as his top priority.

Victimhood is toxic because it lies to us. It whispers that external forces control our destiny. It convinces us that healing requires endless acknowledgment from others rather than quiet, gritty work within ourselves. It erodes relationships. It stalls careers and progress. Why innovate when the deck is supposedly stacked? Worst of all, it robs children of role models. Boys and girls learn from what they see. If Mom or Dad models blame instead of bravery, the cycle continues.

True empowerment looks different. It starts with honesty: Yes, this happened. It hurt. It wasn’t fair. Then comes the pivot—acceptance. Not approval of the wrong, but an acknowledgment that the past cannot be rewritten and our biased systems can only limit you so far. Forgiveness follows, not for the offender’s sake, but for yours. It frees you from carrying the weight. Finally, action. You take charge. You build skills, seek mentors, set boundaries, and pursue purpose.

Life is not a level playing field. Adversity is the rule, not the exception. Some face more than others, like poverty, abuse, and discrimination. But the human spirit isn’t defined by what it endures. It’s defined by how it reacts to it. History is full of people who turned suffering into fuel. They didn’t wait for society to validate their pain but claimed their power anyway.

We need a cultural shift. Let’s stop rewarding the loudest victims and start celebrating the quiet victors—the ones who face hardship without fanfare and emerge with character intact. Let’s teach both our sons and daughters that challenges and biases are inevitable but victimhood is optional. Identify your own wounds from traumas. Tend to them. Then move forward with your head high and your hands busy building something better.

Victimhood is poison. It tastes sweet at first with the attention, excuses, and community, but it slowly kills your potential. Reject it. Not because your struggles aren’t real, but because you are stronger than them. Man or woman, we all have the same choice: stay chained to what happened, or step into the life we were meant to create. The latter is harder, but it’s also the only path to real freedom and joy.