Why I walked away from the gossip circle

Every week, PhilSTAR L!fe explores issues and topics from the perspectives of different age groups, encouraging healthy but meaningful conversations on why they matter. This is Generations.

In 2006, I joined a youth leadership and missionary program and was assigned to live with a community of consecrated women living in Guanajuato, Mexico. For a year, the three other youth missionaries and I had to follow their schedule. This included waking up at 5:30 a.m. every morning so we could shower and make it in time for daily Mass at 6:30 a.m. 

As part of their norms, breakfast and dinners were often taken in silence. What fascinated me was how the person next to you at the dining table—no matter who it was—always seemed to anticipate what you needed: salt, water, dessert, even without you asking. It was part of what they called a culture of charity. It means that you are always attuned to the needs of others, and always looking for an opportunity to be of service.  

But what I loved most about that culture was how everyone tried to think and speak well of other people. We were eighteen women, with our own moods, dispositions, and shortcomings, living in a cramped two-storey house, so you can imagine how difficult that must have been for everyone. But as one of the consecrated women once pointed out, isn’t it freeing to be part of a community where you never have to worry that other people are talking badly about you behind your back? 

Their genuine commitment to charity, and the emotional safety it created, left a deep impression on me. I promised myself that it was something I would always try to carry with me when I returned home. Of course, once I left that bubble and re-entered the real world, I quickly discovered that always thinking and speaking well of others can feel almost impossible. What it did do is help me be more aware of the moments and circumstances that bring out a less generous and less compassionate version of myself.

One of those things, I realized, was being around people whose main way of bonding was talking about other people. As I recently shared in an episode of the She Talks Asia podcast, there is no denying that chismis can be fun in small doses. We are Filipinos, after all, and storytelling is one of the important ways we make sense of the world. It becomes quite problematic, however, when gossip becomes the main language of friendship. 

For me, the clearest sign of an unhealthy dynamic is how a group of friends speak about those who are not in the room. The moment someone leaves, it was almost guaranteed that they would become the topic of conversation for the rest of the evening. Oftentimes, the piece of gossip is framed as concern or intention to help. Before long, however, the whole conversation starts to feel more hurtful than helpful, as damaging details are exchanged and moral judgments are made about someone else's life. 

Another red flag is when a friendship seems to be held together by a common enemy. After that podcast aired, a friend shared she and her former officemates seemed to be bonded by how much they hated their former boss. Even after they had all moved on to different organizations, much of their get-togethers were still spent rehashing their negative experiences. She said it had been comforting at first, but eventually the anecdotes and complaints started to loop, and their friendship seemed stuck in that period of their lives. 

Psychology teaches us that when people talk badly about others, it rarely has much to do with the target and everything to do with the speaker's internal state. People with low self-esteem frequently criticize others as a defense mechanism. By tearing someone else down, they temporarily elevate themselves and mask their own perceived inadequacies. Negative talk is also seen as a "lazy" way to build a connection with a listener. By subtly or overtly criticizing a mutual acquaintance, speakers create an “us vs them” dynamic— a false sense of intimacy through shared judgment. 

I used to feel incredibly tired after these kinds of meet-ups. I eventually realized that you can’t spend that much time talking about other people without eventually asking: Am I better than them? Am I worse? Am I happier or am I behind? The constant comparison was draining, and that mindset was making me feel small. 

It also made me realize that it is hard to build a profound connection with people when most of the conversation is about someone else. These friends of mine are wonderful individuals. Funny, smart, interesting, generous in many ways. But our group dynamic made it difficult to have the kinds of conversations that actually bring people closer.

Perhaps the most uncomfortable insight to sit with was how I also enabled and contributed to our unhealthy dynamic. It is much harder, and much more important, to recognize the parts of yourself that feel validated, entertained, or comforted by criticizing other people.

In our podcast episode, my co-host Iza pointed out that if a group talks badly about others, they probably talked badly about me too once I stopped showing up as often. And while I try not to dwell on that, I would be lying if I said it never crossed my mind. 

There are moments when I wonder if they think I stepped away because I felt too good for them. But the truth is, I distanced myself from this group because I felt the exact opposite. I didn’t like the person I was becoming, and I knew I needed to step away if I wanted to become a better version of myself.

I wanted to become the kind of person who can listen to other people’s stories and experiences without immediately resorting to judgment. I wanted to be able to recognize my own shadows—jealousy, insecurity, and unhealed wounds—rather than hide behind criticisms about someone else's life. I have come to see that chapter as a kind of pruning. Sometimes, we have to gently cut away habits, dynamics, and versions of ourselves that no longer help us grow.

The older I get, the more mindful I become of the kind of energy I bring into my friendships. Yes, chismis is fun in moderation. But I’ve learned that the best and most fulfilling relationships are built on trust, meaningful exchange, shared growth, laughter, and the comfort of knowing that when you are not around, you will still be treated with kindness and empathy. 

That, to me, is the kind of friendship worth keeping.

Generations appears weekly at PhilSTAR L!fe.