The Phrase That Misses the Bigger Picture
“Not everything you see online is about you.”
It’s meant to sound grounded and emotionally intelligent—a reminder not to take everything personally. And in many contexts, it’s good advice. Every post can’t possibly speak to every nuance of human experience.
But here’s the truth: the people who say it most confidently are often the ones who already see themselves reflected everywhere. They have the luxury of representation. Their experiences are the baseline, the default, the “normal” that everything else orbits around.
When you already see yourself in the story, it’s easy to keep scrolling.
When you don’t, it’s harder to stay silent.
When “Keep Scrolling” Becomes Complicity
For those of us who didn’t ease into menopause naturally—who were thrown into surgical or medically induced menopause overnight—“keep scrolling” doesn’t feel neutral.
It feels like a quiet reinforcement of the same narrative that’s erased us again and again.
Because when the menopause conversation only centers perimenopause, gradual transitions, and hormone fluctuations that follow a predictable arc, everyone who doesn’t fit that pattern is left out of the dialogue entirely.
Scrolling past those gaps isn’t maturity. It’s complicity.
Privilege Hides in Representation
Here’s what’s often missed: “Just keep scrolling” is a mindset of privilege.
It’s spoken by people who are accustomed to seeing themselves reflected—in research, imagery, advice, and community spaces.
If you’ve never had to search three layers deep just to find one voice that remotely mirrors your own, it’s easy to tell others not to take it personally. But when nothing you see online ever feels like it’s about you, disengaging isn’t an act of peace. It’s a reminder of how invisible your experience has become.
Being BIPOC Adds Another Layer
And when you’re BIPOC, that invisibility runs deeper.
Because “not everything is about you” often translates to “it was never meant to be.”
Health and wellness conversations—especially around menopause—are still overwhelmingly built around white, cisgender women who experience slow, natural transitions. Indigenous women, Black women, and women of color rarely see their realities reflected in the research, the marketing, or the language.
So when we disrupt the conversation, it’s not because we want every post to be about us.
It’s because if we don’t, it never will be.
Why Disruption Matters
Representation doesn’t expand by staying comfortable. It expands when someone is willing to interrupt the pattern—when someone raises their hand and says, “Hey, this isn’t the full picture.”
Not every post needs to include everyone.
But every movement that claims to be inclusive should make room for the people who’ve been left out of the story.
Because sometimes, the most powerful act isn’t to keep scrolling.
It’s to stop, speak up, and shift the lens—so the next person doesn’t have to go searching to see themselves in the story.
If this resonates:
You’ll love Movement as Medicine: A Joy Audit for Indigenous Athletes and The Central Governor Guide. Both explore the intersections of mindset, identity, and representation in sport—and how reclaiming your narrative is the ultimate performance tool.