why the world hates introverts
on the preliminary question: “why are you so quiet?”
I have existed in the more extreme end of introversion my entire life, and if there’s one saying I’ve heard more than any other, it’s this: “I thought you were a bitch before I actually met you.”
The line isn’t always delivered in that exact way. I’ve also heard things like, “You know, I always thought you hated me for some reason,” or “You’re actually quite sweet once you open your mouth” (spoken with a faint ‘who would’ve thought?’ intonation).
On one hand, I’ve always been aware that I am often presenting (subconsciously) what some may call a ‘resting bitch face’. On the other hand, I simply refuse to believe that numerous people have independently formed the same assumption about my character solely based on an expression. It’s likely a contributing factor, sure, but it feels more like supporting evidence people attach to a conclusion they’ve already drawn - one that starts somewhere entirely else. Somewhere much deeper.
So what does this mean?
For one thing, I know for a fact this is not an individual experience. It’s something a very specific group of people are deeply familiar with, even if the accusations are never spoken aloud. Sometimes they’re communicated through strange energy, subtle social discomfort, and interactions that leave us confused and worried that maybe we’re just unlikable. This is the experience of the introvert.
The number one truth is this: people, no matter who they are or how self-assured they claim to be, care deeply about what others think of them. And when they can’t figure out what someone thinks about them, it scares the shit out of them. The world has consistently failed to perceive introverts in a fair or generous way, largely because it is intimidated by them.
Beyond assumptions of hostility or coldness, I’ve also been inadvertently picked on for being introverted for as long as I can remember.
This hasn’t always looked like straight up bullying, and more often than not it has been the kind of bullying only really appears as such to the person experiencing it. The kind of disapproval which introverts face is very individual, very inconspicuous, very subtle. Probably because it is not an offence deserving of disapproval in the first place.
It can look like the extroverted, ‘popular’ person (I use this juvenile terminology in lack of another description which feeds my point quite as accurately) asking “why are you so quiet?” infront of an audience - a rhetorical question designed less to be answered than to spotlight your difference. It can look like a teacher constantly calling on you in class, simply because they know you don’t particularly enjoy speaking in front of people.
These kinds of scenarios are sparked always by a failure to understand the innate quietness in my manner, which in their eyes, appears more like a failure to ‘figure me out’. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed being an introvert, it’s that people want to know what is going on in my head more than anyone else’s, precisely because it isn’t freely offered. My silence becomes a curiosity, then a challenge. It becomes a delicacy to tap into my thoughts, and so it becomes their mission to mine out as much of that rare and precious gold as they possibly can.
More than that, people seem to feel they have some sort of right to knowing. Because others choose to share their opinions and inner monologues without bar, they think I must do the same. As if it is some kind of rule for being a human being. And if I don’t, it must be because my thoughts are dangerous, judgmental, or defective in some way. Silence, to them, cannot simply be neutral.
And this is how it first becomes an issue: there is a complete lack of empathy for introverted people.
Because extroverts cannot experience the inward pull to retreat, to recharge internally, to exist comfortably without constant external engagement, they assume that something must be wrong with those who do. It’s never considered that we simply don’t feel the need to speak as much. That we find our deepest companionship within ourselves. That we sooner prefer tossing thoughts around or own heads than out into the void.
Instead, we must be keeping secrets. We must be judging you. We must be cynical, bitter, or socially defective.
But the truth is that our minds function just the same as anyone else’s - they’re just not laid out for public analysis. Just because we are quiet does not mean our words would burn you if they happened to slip out. Silence is not malice. Privacy is not hostility.
And truthfully, I have always carried a quiet anger toward a world that thinks this way. Toward being constantly interrogated about my quietness, when it is a thing so innate it feels like being asked why I rise out of bed each morning. Toward my quietness being treated as more threatening than the careless, sometimes cruel words people speak aloud without hesitation.
It’s always, “why are you so quiet?” Nobody asks the loud people why they are so loud. And this, I think, is what has always bothered me most of all.
But I’ve come to know that all forms of unnecessary antagonism always stem from within, and this is a case no different. Maybe the real discomfort isn’t with introversion at all, but with the mirror it holds up. A quiet person doesn’t provide instant reassurance, doesn’t perform warmth on demand, doesn’t dilute themselves for the comfort of others. And in a world that values the constant output of opinions, explanations, personalities made palatable, that kind of restraint does not sit well with most people.
Introverts are not puzzles that need solving. We are not problems that need fixing. Our silence is not a challenge, nor is it an invitation. It is simply a different way of existing, in which we don’t owe anyone access, explanation, or proof of kindness.
The problem is not with introverted people, and it never has been. The problem is that the world does not know how to sit with the discomfort of not being centered in someone else’s mind.
And that’s not our burden to carry.
as an introvert, i completely relate - you described this dynamic so perfectly !
The point about social norms favoring loudness and surface‑level interaction rather than depth and quiet presence felt especially clear. It makes perfect sense that someone who values stillness and thoughtfulness would feel out of place in a culture that rewards performance and volume.