Self-care has become the go-to buzzword of our burned-out era. And let’s face it—queer people need it. We’ve survived enough: familial rejection, spiritual trauma, political erasure, and the daily microaggressions that cut deeper than they should. So when the world feels like too much, yeah—sometimes a face mask, some candles, and a full Netflix blackout feel like the only sane choice.
Courtesy of Eron Vito Mazza
But let’s not get it twisted: not all self-care is actually healing. Sometimes, it’s self-erasure in a prettier costume.
The wellness industry will sell you anything to feel better—but it doesn’t always ask why you’re hurting. It’ll invite you to “align your energy” but not talk about systems that keep you in survival mode. It’ll say, “just focus on gratitude” when you’re seething with righteous anger. It tells you to rise above when your soul is begging to dig down and root.
Here’s the difference: real self-care calls you back to yourself. Avoidance lulls you away from yourself. And the line between the two is razor-thin.
So how do you tell the difference?
Ask yourself:
– Am I resting or escaping?
– Is this practice nourishing me or numbing me?
– Is this solitude, or am I isolating because I don’t feel safe being seen?
It’s okay not to always know the answer. But queer care—real, radical care—means being brave enough to ask the question.
Let’s be honest. Many of us were taught early on that our bodies, our desires, and our identities were “too much.” That we needed to tone it down, clean it up, “make it make sense.” So when we dissociate under the guise of “me time,” it can feel like coming home. But the real homecoming happens when we stop hiding—from ourselves and the world.
Self-care isn’t inherently bubble baths and matcha. Sometimes, it’s messy. Sometimes it looks like crying in a parking lot. Sometimes it’s cancelling that plan and telling your chosen family, “I need help.” Sometimes, it’s deleting the app, not for a curated detox, but because you’re done pretending you’re okay.
We have to reclaim queer care from the algorithms and corporations trying to flatten it into something bland and brandable. Our care is gritty, sacred, and born from survival. It’s not about polishing ourselves to perfection—it’s about honoring the whole truth of who we are, even when it’s uncomfortable.
So before you hit “Do Not Disturb,” take a moment to ask: Am I tending to my spirit—or trying to disappear from it?
Only one of those leads to liberation.
Eron Vito Mazza is the author of The Living Lenormand, and is the host of the podcast The Witching hour with Eron Mazza.
