The Psychological Toll of Cancel Culture

It Doesn’t Happen All at Once

Getting “canceled” is rarely a thunderclap—it’s more like a slow erosion. At first, a couple people stop liking your posts. Then, friends don’t reply to your messages. Invitations dry up. One day you realize the silence isn’t random.

People don’t always unfollow—they just look away. You’re still shouting into the void, but the void doesn’t echo back anymore. It’s not dramatic. It’s quiet.

The Pressure to Apologize for Existing

The worst part isn’t that you said something outrageous. Often, you didn’t. You just held a view, shared a thought, or stood your ground on something you were raised to believe was fine. Maybe you changed. Maybe you didn’t. But you weren’t trying to hurt anyone.

Cancel culture doesn’t ask for explanations—it demands submission. And if you don’t submit, you’re branded. Not because of what you did, but because you didn’t break the way they wanted you to.

The Isolation is Real

I’m not here to complain. I’m not a victim. But I’ll be honest: it hurts.

Humans are social creatures. When your creative world turns its back on you, you start to question your worth. You question your voice. You even question reality—like, am I the crazy one? But you’re not. You’re just swimming against the current.

That kind of solitude isn’t glamorous. But over time, it makes you sharper. Quieter, maybe—but also stronger.

Why I Stayed Online Anyway

I could’ve quit. Vanished. Started over with a different name, or just made music and designs in private. But that would’ve been letting fear win.

So instead, I built Mall Relics—a home for the misfits, the nostalgic, the thinkers, the artists, the weirdos. It’s a project that emerged from the ashes of disconnection. It’s not just a shop—it’s a statement. Every product, every blog post, every bizarre pixel is a piece of my creative rebellion.

Cancel Culture is a Spiritual Problem

What we’re facing isn’t just political—it’s existential. It’s not about right or left anymore. It’s about meaning. It’s about the soul.

Cancel culture thrives on fear, and fear is a terrible god to serve. You end up policing your thoughts, living small, apologizing for things you haven’t even said. It shrinks the human spirit.

But creativity? That’s expansive. That’s divine. It reaches across divides. That’s why cancel culture ultimately loses—because it can’t create. It can only destroy.

What I’ve Learned

Here’s the truth:

• You can survive being canceled.

• You don’t need everyone to like you.

• You don’t owe silence to people who want your erasure.

• And you’re allowed to keep building, dreaming, expressing—even when it’s unpopular.

Mall Relics exists because I refused to vanish.

Join Me

If you’ve ever felt exiled, censored, misjudged, or just weirdly alone, you’re not. You’re part of a growing undercurrent. We’re the ones asking real questions. The ones who still believe in individuality, nuance, and imagination.

Follow @mallrelics and @xylemusic on X. That’s where the real story is being told.

And if you’re curious, wander the aisles of mallrelics.com. It’s part retro, part rebellion, and all heart.

Still here? Good. That means you’re not afraid to think for yourself.

Let’s build something new.