The Mirror They Can’t Stand

When you reflect truth, some people only see what they hate.

By: Rebecca Witherspoon, June 26, 2025

I’ve noticed something that keeps happening over and over, and if I’m being perfectly honest, I’m done pretending to be surprised by it.

Every single time I write anything with even a hint of compassion or a call for unity—every time I try to have a conversation that isn’t about fighting or scoring points—there is a certain group of people who cannot help but jump in, not just to disagree, but to attack. Not with ideas. With venom. Every. Single. Time.

It doesn’t matter how carefully I say something. It doesn’t matter how balanced or thoughtful or fair I try to be. It doesn’t matter if I literally write a post calling for kindness, or understanding, or just basic human decency. For that same group of people, that’s a threat. And the minute I don’t fall in line with whatever script they’ve written in their heads, they can’t help themselves—they show exactly who they are. Every. Single. Time.

At first, I used to second-guess myself. I’d wonder if I’d missed something, if I could’ve worded something better, or if I could have tried harder to avoid conflict. But now I see it for what it is. It’s not that I’ve said something particularly offensive—it’s that I’ve said something they can’t control.

They don’t want conversation. They want conformity and obedience. They want people who nod along, never push back, never question, never challenge. And if I don’t play along, they go straight for my jugular with character assassination regardless of actual truth or evidence. I am like a mirror that must be destroyed because it reveals they have become the very thing they hate most.

Here’s what I’ve learned, especially over these past six months, if you give people enough space and enough rope, they’ll show you exactly who they are. And when they do? Believe them.

I don’t have to call anyone out by name. They reveal themselves to the world without any help from me, loud and clear. I write something that comes from the heart—and right on cue they respond by lashing out, twisting my words, painting me as the enemy. Over a message of unity. Think about that.

If you’re genuinely the kind of person who wants to build a better world, you don’t flip out when someone says, “Let’s try to find common ground.” You don’t lose your mind when someone says, “Maybe we can agree to disagree without being enemies or trying to destroy each other.” But when people are committed to outrage, when they’re addicted to hate and the feeling of being morally superior, unity feels like a loss of power. It threatens their entire identity. And that scares the shit out of them.

So they reveal themselves. Every. Single. Time.

And while it used to hurt—hell, some days it still does—I’ve stopped taking it personally. Because I’ve come to realize it really isn’t about me. I’m just the mirror they don’t want to look into. And when people are determined to live in bad faith, when they refuse to see any other viewpoint but their own, there’s nothing I or anyone else can say that will satisfy them. Their problem isn’t my words—it’s my audacity to speak at all.

So I’ll keep speaking.

I’m not here to placate people who’ve made it their mission to misunderstand me and paint everything I say or do with some evil ulterior motive. I’m not here to be small so they can feel big. I’m not here to be their doormat or punching bag so they can feel better about themselves. And I’m certainly not here to stay silent when their abusive behaviors cause harm and division. I’ll keep showing up. I’ll keep saying what I believe, even if it makes some people uncomfortable or even angry.

And I’ll keep letting them show me who they really are. I don’t need to guess anymore. They’re telling me. Loudly. Every. Single. Time.

Let them.

Because clarity is a gift—and they keep giving it to me, whether they realize it or not.