We Call It Processing — But It’s Just Talking Trash With Justification

Let’s be real: gossiping is not new. It’s not rare. And it’s definitely not something we like to admit we do — but let’s not lie to ourselves. Gossip feels… validating. At first. There’s a weird comfort in having a group of people who you can spill your thoughts to. The group chat. The coffee shop crew. The post-Mass parking lot debrief. Wherever it happens, it starts as connection. You’re “processing” something. You’re just venting. But slowly, it shifts. At some point, it stops being about you and starts being about them. Their outfit. Their voice. Their choices. Their entire personality. It stops being venting and becomes target practice. And sometimes? It’s not even about people we actually know. It’s someone from school. From work. From church. Someone who probably doesn’t even know we exist. But we know them. Through hearsay. Through one-off moments. Through rumor and assumption. And we talk. We spill. We laugh. We share the tea. And call it bonding.

We’ve all done it. Myself included. We’ve called it venting. We’ve said, “I just need to get this off my chest,” and then proceeded to drag someone like it’s a full-time job. But when does venting become full-blown character assassination? Where is the line between being honest about a situation and using someone else as a verbal punching bag to feel better? The real question is this: Would I say this to their face? And if not, why do I feel so okay saying it behind their back? Because if the answer is no… what are we doing?

Gossip Is a Coping Mechanism That Makes Us Feel Powerful. It gives us a false sense of control. When we feel overlooked, insecure, or left out, gossip hands us a sense of superiority. We don’t even realize we’re doing it. But it helps us feel “in the know.” Like we have the upper hand. And that false power hits especially hard when you’re feeling powerless in other areas of your life. So tearing someone else down — even subtly — becomes this tiny dose of emotional dopamine. But that doesn’t make it right. And that definitely doesn’t make it holy.

We see the worst of this online. TMZ. Tabloids. Gossip accounts. TikTok drama breakdowns. Reddit threads. You name it. The entire media economy is built on tearing people down. And somewhere along the way, we stopped noticing how disgusting it really is. It’s never just about someone’s bad behavior. No, it’s:

• Paparazzi photos of an actress in a bikini two weeks after giving birth
• Screenshots of a celebrity crying on a livestream
• A leaked clip of someone in a breakdown being passed around like entertainment

It’s exploitation. Of pain. Of trauma. Of mental health. Of humanity. And it works. Because we eat it up. We consume it. We laugh at it. We share it. We participate. It’s become so embedded in our online culture that it bleeds into our everyday lives. We hear a rumor and feel entitled to comment. We hear someone made a mistake and suddenly it’s the highlight of the group chat. Gossip has become the entertainment we don’t even question. And yet — God forbid someone talk about us. Suddenly, it’s too far. It’s unfair. It’s rude. So what happened? When did we lose respect for others’ privacy? When did we lose respect for ourselves?

We weren’t made to live like this. Scripture tells us: “Let no unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up.” (Ephesians 4:29). But somewhere along the way, we swapped conviction for commentary. We replaced accountability with amusement. And we forgot that every single person we talk about — online or offline — is a soul. A soul made by God. Loved by Him. Even when they mess up. Even when we don’t like them. Even when they’ve hurt us. So maybe it starts with us. With choosing silence over slander. Compassion over commentary. Truth over tea.

Still convicted. Still transforming. Still biting my tongue (one group chat at a time).