# A Gentle Warning Against Contempt

Be careful with contempt.

It may not look dangerous at first.
It often shows up with a shrug, a joke, or a roll of the eyes.
It can even sound clever, protective, or wise.

But contempt, especially when it becomes a habit, is rarely what it seems.

# What it really is

Contempt is often not cruelty, but fear in disguise.
It is the soul’s attempt to shield itself from shame, vulnerability, or uncertainty.
Freud saw it as one of many ways the ego defends itself.
Klein noticed how children use it to push away unbearable dependency.
Kierkegaard described it more deeply—as a refusal of the self to face its own need for transformation.

And in relationships, John Gottman found something chilling:

Contempt is the number one predictor of divorce.

Not because it’s loud.
But because it signals the death of curiosity, of compassion, and of shared humanity.

# What it does

Contempt numbs us to wonder.
It silences the trembling voice inside that says, “Maybe I care more than I want to admit.”

It builds a wall—between us and others, between us and ourselves,
and sometimes, between us and God.

When C.S. Lewis let Ransom mock a mother’s distress,
it was not cruelty—it was defense.
A moment of inward flinching, afraid of looking like a fool
for caring too much.

# A better way

Instead of contempt, try curiosity.
Instead of ridicule, try silence.
Instead of scorn, try the small prayer:

“Help me bear the weight of caring without needing to mock it.”

You do not need contempt to stay safe.
You need truth, and truth always arrives hand-in-hand with mercy.