“This gives me trauma!”

“I am the way I am because of my childhood trauma…”

Sounds familiar? This is the monologue of an average Gen Z in daily life. Scroll through TikTok or Instagram and you’ll find it: “My trauma response is…” insert trendy audio and a hyper-specific childhood anecdote.

But isn’t this unsettling? Since when did we normalise personal pain and experiences as everyday lingo? When did someone’s hurt become a badge of honour? Has Gen Z made trauma their whole personality?

Trauma is no longer something to process; it’s something to post. And somewhere along the way, it stopped being a stage of healing and became a core part of Gen Z’s personality.

Trauma Response or Just Misuse

Not all is black and white; there is no doubt that Gen Z has lived through one of the most difficult times. From COVID-19 to wars being waged on a random Tuesday, one can only imagine what the new normal will be for Gen Z.

Mass shootings, climate threats, political upheaval, and the COVID‑19 pandemic defined their formative years. You name it, and they would have gone through it. So, yes, it is understood that exposure to such crises must have amplified their emotional awareness.

Gen Z should be applauded for destigmatising mental health, yes. They’ve done more in five years than previous generations did in fifty. But let’s not pretend everything branded as “healing” is actually healthy. Not when every inconvenience is “trauma” and every emotion is pathologised for likes and sympathy.

It is no excuse for the current standardisation of trauma narratives. Look around you: the 15-year-olds are now engaging in trauma competition. They are indeed spotlighting minor events as deeply damaging. This can blur the line between genuine struggle and performative victimhood.

A BMC Psychology study from 2023 found this behaviour linked with higher anxiety, attention-seeking behaviour, and worsening depression.

Yes, one has the right to cope however they want, but let’s not romanticise victimhood to the point where recovery becomes irrelevant. If your trauma is your whole aesthetic, do you even want to get better?

What are the Consequences?

This romanticism comes with its cost, too. Experts warn that this can promote emotional dysregulation more than emotional healing. And the worst part of all is that the real trauma that already doesn’t seek an audience will be sidelined even more. Why? Oh, simply because it’s not “traumatic” enough.

In Pakistan, a 2022 national study found that over 80% of domestic abuse survivors never speak up. What do you think will happen once their trauma is rebranded as “aesthetic” and is competed over? They will stop mentioning it because real trauma survivors don’t have the energy to do so.

What’s more troubling is how this obsession with trauma can actually stunt emotional growth. If every toxic behaviour is excused with “It’s my trauma,” where’s the accountability? It’s just a deflection that no one will be able to point fingers at.

Rather than declaring trauma a personality quirk, society could:

• Validate real trauma without romanticising struggle.
• Encourage post‑traumatic growth, not perpetual identity in pain.
• Elevate emotional literacy as a strength, not a weakness.
• Provide systemic change in access to mental health services, economic stability, and community support.

Stay tuned to Brandsynario for latest news and updates