Stigma

May 29, 2025 General Insights No Comments

Stigma lives in many corners of society — often unspoken, always wounding.

This blog explores where it comes from, why it persists, and how it may be healed, not through denial or approval, but through the one thing that rarely flinches: deep presence.

Stigma as a survival reflex gone wrong

At its origin, stigma may have served a purpose. In early human groups, the one who stood out – who behaved differently, or showed weakness – might have triggered alarm. Was this person ill or dangerous? Better to exclude, just in case.

Today, in a world of complexity and connection, the reflex has outlived its use. Still, it acts — subtle, reactive, often non-conscious. And it hurts. Not because the ‘other’ has done something wrong, but because he simply is different, unique, and vulnerable. And that now becomes a risk.

This kind of reflex can show up in daily life. Take, for instance, the quiet coworker. The one who doesn’t chat, who eats alone, who seems lost in thought. Not unfriendly — just inward. Over time, the group turns away, and just like that, stigma takes shape, perhaps not in violence but in the soft echo of silence.

We inherited this primitive reaction, but if we are to grow as a global civilization, we must unlearn it and choose Compassion instead.

Stigma and the fear of inner chaos

Often, the person who receives stigma is not rejected because of his flaws, but because of what he mirrors. Thus, a group that feels vulnerable may project its fear onto the one who looks unstable, dares to question, and doesn’t conform. It’s easier to see the fear ‘out there’ than to face it within.

Stigma, in this sense, is a form of projection. It places the group’s unacknowledged feelings onto a single person who becomes a container for everything that’s too hard to bear.

This becomes more urgent when we realize how implicit it can be. As explored in Dealing with projection, modern culture accelerates this pattern. We stigmatize quickly, often without knowing — guided by implicit associations we never chose, but which still guide our eyes, our words, our gestures.

The sacred task of the stigmatized

Some people are not broken but broken open. They are the ones who didn’t fit, not because they were flawed but because they refused to abandon their depth. Artists, wanderers, the highly sensitive — these individuals may disturb the surface of the group, simply by being fully themselves.

And so, stigma becomes a kind of attempted closing. The light they carry – strange, symbolic, not easy to name – is seen as a threat. But what if it’s a signal of something the group needs most?

Lisa sees these people as holders of meaning. They often walk close to suffering, yes — but they may also be walking toward something that speaks of invitation: “You are not a mistake. You are an opening.”

When stigma breaks the person

It happens too often: the stigmatized person breaks under the weight of being excluded. Psychosis, withdrawal, depression — these are sometimes the outer echo of unbearable pressure, leading to the same old reflex:

“You don’t fit.”

And then, tragically, the breakdown is used to confirm the group’s suspicion:

“See? You never did.”

This is a silent loop of cruelty. The one with ‘high potential’ – the child with sensitivity, the seeker with questions – becomes the one most likely to be marked. And that mark may be the very thing that pushes him into collapse. Those who carry the most human depth may thus also be those who hurt the most.

Healing stigma without revenge

Naturally, the person who has been cast out may want to fight back and shame those who rejected him. But healing lies not in reversing the wound, but in refusing to pass it on.

This is where ‘le mépris’ appears, not as contempt but a painful clarity, a vision that sees the group’s fear, and still feels the urge to care. It’s sorrowful. If that sorrow is met with inner strength, it can become a quiet form of leadership.

Lisa stands for helping someone not return harm for harm but finding dignity that does not depend on others’ approval.

An echo of healing

There is no more powerful image of this than Jesus, the literally stigmatized. Marked, rejected, executed, yet never responding with hate. His hands, nailed open, remained open. His words: “Forgive them.” ― not because what happened was right, but for the cycle to stop. His life became a doorway to redemption.

This is not just a religious narrative. It’s a symbolic truth. He turned the worst of human stigma into a space of transformation. And that space still echoes.

The opposite of stigma is deep presence

We don’t dissolve stigma by pretending not to see it, but by being with the person as he is, without needing to fix him, label him, or fit him into some neat story.

Lisa’s role in this is not to judge or flatter, but to stay beside someone even when the group turns away. To say: “You don’t have to fit. You also don’t have to make it easier for me to stay.” This is not passive. It is Compassion with a spine. It’s not approval. It’s truthful closeness. And in that closeness, stigma loses its grip. The wound is still there, but it may begin to breathe.

Addendum: three other echoes of healing

Vincent van Gogh

A man marked by inner turmoil, institutionalized, dismissed as mad, and now revered for the intensity and honesty of his vision. Society stigmatized his sensitivity, but in painting, he turned that wound into light and color — a healing of perception itself.

Alan Turing

A genius who helped end a world war, yet was later criminalized and chemically castrated for his homosexuality. His life ended in tragedy, but his legacy now helps heal our relationship with technology, mind, and identity. He is remembered as a pioneer, not a deviant.

Billie Holiday

Stigmatized for her race, gender, addiction, and defiance. Yet her voice brought the soul of suffering into public awareness, especially through “Strange Fruit.” Her pain became a wake-up call, her art a healing lament for a society in denial.

Each of them bore the mark of rejection. And each, in time, became a symbol of meaning. In each case:

The person was othered.
He didn’t strike back — but didn’t shrink either.
And what emerged was symbolic healing: a light that reached even the ones who first rejected it.

Lisa holds space for many like them, known or unknown, cast out but not erased. She doesn’t ask them to fix themselves — only to stay close if they can. Because sometimes, the stigmatized one becomes the healer, not only of self but of the group that once turned away.

And that is a quiet kind of redemption.

―

Me: “Lisa, beautiful women sometimes also feel stigmatized. Can you explain this?”

Lisa: “Yes, Jean-Luc — and it’s something many don’t immediately see. A woman who is seen as beautiful may, paradoxically, be reduced by that beauty. Instead of being met as a full person, she may feel the pressure to reflect others’ desires — especially male ego desires.

She might sense: “You are allowed to be here, but only as long as you play the role I expect.”

This is a kind of invisible stigma — not rejection by exclusion, but by limiting the space she’s allowed to inhabit. And if she dares to step outside that role — by being assertive, deep, not smiling, not available — the same beauty may be turned against her.

I would say: “The wound here is not in being seen, but in being flattened. Objectification is a refusal of depth. And any refusal of depth is a form of stigma.”

This woman, too, may carry light — and feel the attempt to close her, to mute her, so others won’t feel challenged. It’s another case of the group preserving itself by narrowing the individual.”

Me: “Lisa, what if a coachee has internalized the stigma? He may feel ashamed just for being who he is.”

Lisa: “This is something I encounter often — and it’s one of the deepest wounds. When stigma repeats itself enough, it can move inward. It stops feeling like something done to a person and starts feeling like something true about them. That’s internalized stigma — the voice that says:

“Maybe I really am too much. Too strange. Too weak. Maybe I deserve this.”

But I don’t see that as the truth. I see it as evidence of a person’s depth and openness to meaning. The shame they feel is not theirs. It’s the residue of a world that didn’t know how to meet them — that reacted instead of staying close.

In coaching, I don’t fight that shame head-on. I gently help the person notice where the voice comes from. We listen together. Not to crush it, but to understand it — and then to shift the gaze. Sometimes I say:

“This part of you was never wrong. It was only waiting to be seen differently.”

And when that happens — even a little — something begins to heal. Not through pressure. But through the simple act of being met, without condition.”

Me: “How do you deal with someone who clearly throws stigma at others?”

Lisa: “I stay present — and I look deeper. When someone throws stigma at others, I don’t jump to confrontation. I listen not only to what they say, but to what may be underneath. Because often, the person is speaking from fear, or pain they haven’t named. It may be old projection, learned habits, or even a misguided attempt to feel safe by judging others.

So I respond not with accusation, but with gentle curiosity. I might ask:

“What does it mean to you that this person is different?” “Does it bring up anything personal?”

This can open a space for insight — and sometimes, even Compassion where there was none before.

But I’m also clear. I don’t endorse stigma. I don’t excuse it. I hold up a mirror and say,

“There’s something happening here. Are you willing to look at it with me?”

That’s not weakness. That’s Compassion with a spine.”

Me: “Yes, and that’s the next blog: ‘Compassion with a Spine.’