Glennon Doyle's Departure

Reflections on Judgment and Kindness

I was truly disheartened to receive Glennon’s newsletter this afternoon saying that she’d decided to leave Substack, after being on it for less than a week. She apologized for disappointing her community, but she said that Substack didn’t feel safe for her afterall.

Glennon, I truly understand, and it is heartbreaking.

The way people treated her was awful.

She was essentially bullied into submission, and reading her words today reminded me of how cruel others can be. Glennon had also just quit Instagram, echoing the feelings of many others who found the platform unpleasant and harmful. The prevalence of trolls, negativity, and general toxicity made it an unwelcome environment for her.

I too dropped off Instagram and Facebook over a year ago, so I know where she’s coming from. I found Substack to be a safer, kinder, less judgmental community though, and I could focus on what I came here to do - which is to write. I’m also not a famous celebrity with millions of followers. No one cared when I arrived!

I typically avoid the center of contentious issues, and I don't intend to stir up trouble in the debate surrounding Glennon Doyle's presence on Substack. But in my view, she was entitled to be on the platform, just like any other writer. However, this point is now irrelevant because she’s no longer here.

I was so happy when Glennon joined Substack last week. I even said something to my husband! She liked one of my comments, and I got so excited! Then, I started to see the backlash, and I didn’t understand why everyone was so upset. I thought I was missing something.

As I started to read notes and essay, I learned that people felt Glennon was taking away paid subscribers from the “smaller, lesser known writers.” Well, that just seemed silly, I thought. Glennon was bringing in thousands and thousands of new readers to Substack - some of those people could be potential new readers for us all, small name writers. Why are people acting so selfish? I wondered. Besides, I believe that people will pay for your writing if they want to hear what you have to say. End of story. There’s space for everyone.

Others felt Glennon came in too “loud.” Her entrance was looked at as attention grabbing, and it wasn’t appropriate for Substack. In my opinion, this seems callous and judgmental. Who are we to comment on how one introduces themselves, especially in an online space?

Other people felt that her arrival was like a Walmart moving in next door to a local boutique shop - completely altering the established conventions of Substack.

People’s reasons for wanting her gone go on and on. I understand some of these points, and I can respect other’s opinions to some extent. Everyone’s just trying to survive the storm. People want their voices heard.

But ultimately, to me, the mass hysteria felt off putting, and it hit too close to home. It sounded like mean girl behavior, again and again, and it all looked like bullying to me.

It appeared as if a large group was attempting to ostracize one person because of who she was, and that right there felt way too familiar.

In AA, we talk a great deal about the importance of self-focus and personal responsibility - keeping our side of the street clean. I’ve spent a good amount of time this past year learning to let go of a lot of pain and resentment towards many people. And I’m starting to recognize the things I have control over and to let go of the things I can’t control.

It's impossible for me to control the behavior of others, but I can learn from them. And I can accept people for who they are as well as manage my own response to them.

I can take what I’ve learned and use it to teach my children how to be more compassionate, kind and caring humans. I can talk to my three kids about how hurtful it is when we stand in judgment of others, because you never know what the other person is going through on the inside.

Glennon Doyle has bravely shared her personal battles with mental health, offering the world glimpses into her journey of recovery with remarkable vulnerability and tenderness. This openness has fostered a deep connection with her audience, built on trust and shared human experience. However, beneath this resilient exterior lies a sensitive individual, capable of experiencing profound pain.

The recent events on Substack have undoubtedly caused her significant distress, serving as a stark reminder that even those who appear strong and articulate in their vulnerability are still susceptible to hurt.

It's a reminder that public figures, despite their platform and perceived resilience, are ultimately individuals with emotions and sensitivities that deserve to be acknowledged and respected.

Moving forward, let's hope this serves as a lesson for all. I hope everyone might consider how to be more compassionate and accepting of one other, for the future of Substack and for all of us, as writers and people in recovery.