5 Health Benefits of Complaining
listicle (n): an article consisting of a series of items presented as a list
Listicles annoy me and I find them to be overused, but I’m told I should write them. So here I am, presenting you with a (longform) listicle. Consider this my experiment of writing a listicle while also being true to myself.
Recently while facilitating a conflict coaching session, I joked that I’m a big believer in complaining. “Can you say more about that?” asked my client, thoughtfully. “Complaining is generally considered a negative thing, so I’m interested in hearing more.”
I paused and thought about her question before briefly explaining myself.
Then I kept thinking about it.
Being a white woman from the American South, I’ve often felt like an outsider because of my communication preferences for open, honest, direct communication. Chalk it up to my personality type, neurodivergence, or trauma history (or some combination of these), but I’ve always found it difficult to stay silent when I–or others–are being disrespected or mistreated.
I’ve also never understood why we don’t just talk about what’s really going on. I frequently find myself encouraging others to speak up or open up conversations about things that are bothering them. While I’m no stranger to avoidance, I tend to be made more uncomfortable by avoidance than by confronting and addressing issues. I’ve learned this puts me in a minority.
I don’t connect to the memes about women crying in their cars and then wiping their tears and going about their business without anyone the wiser. “Not me!” I’ve commented. “If I’m crying, you’re going to know about it.” Full disclosure: this is partly because my face gets red and puffy when I cry. It’s not easy to hide, even with makeup. And as it turns out, I don’t believe in staying silent about my pain.
“If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.” - Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God
In mulling all of this over, I had what you might call a breakthrough. I recalled a core childhood memory–a traumatic experience that I’ve remembered and recounted many times. In this experience, I wailed and used my voice to express myself.
For the first time, I looked beyond the pain of it and saw my strength. I realized that by crying and speaking up, there was unpleasantness but I ultimately got what I needed. The result? A complainer was born.
This insight was a reminder of how our communication and conflict styles are greatly informed by our personalities, early childhood experiences and the examples set by our families of origin. That incident may or may not have been the genesis of my orientation toward complaining, but it was definitely a seminal moment. I’ve continued complaining in various ways throughout my life. Have my needs always been met as a result? No, but I’ve found more than a few ways that the practice is beneficial.
Complaining is a form of self-advocacy.
I was recently talking with a friend who was struggling with symptoms of illness and felt dismissed by her doctor’s office. She was anxious about her health but feared that by being more assertive she would be overstepping and viewed as combative or difficult–an unfortunately reasonable fear for a woman to have. She was second-guessing the seriousness of her symptoms and trying to decide what to do, caught between two anxiety-filled options.
Having navigated similar experiences, I urged her to “complain” more to her doctor. We shared stories of medical neglect with one another as a reminder that even if everything was okay in this case, sometimes things are not okay and it’s important to advocate for one’s health. Fortunately, she was able to access care through another medical provider, her symptoms resolved and she is doing well today. She followed up to thank me for the push to be more assertive with her health.
Our conversation reminded me that, tied to our fear of complaining, is the fear of being perceived as oversensitive, difficult, or weak. (I could write a whole other piece in defense of oversensitivity.) We fear the potential repercussions or retaliation that may come from those who hold power over us, if we push too hard. These are valid concerns which lead to the next benefit of complaining.
Complaining helps us identify our supporters and allies.
The instances where I’ve complained and been called “difficult” or “too sensitive” were learning moments for me. They taught me who will listen and support me through my pain, and who is made so uncomfortable by it that they’d rather minimize and dismiss my complaints than provide comfort or make changes. It has helped me to see which relationships—personal, professional, and medical—to further invest in and which I can’t depend on. This information is useful in building healthy, mutually supportive relationships, and in disengaging or distancing from those that don’t meet my needs.
Don’t get me wrong, I believe in mutual accountability in relationships. I don’t advocate for 100% support and validation all of the time, for instance if our behaviors are harming others. But when we share about our own pain, how do we want our loved ones to show up for us? I want mine to listen, offer comfort, and help me to navigate difficult situations. That’s also how I want to show up for those I care about.
My practice of complaining has helped me to identify what I value in relationships and who has the tools to meet my needs.
Complaining illuminates a need for change.
As with anything, too much complaining is a problem. It’s not advantageous to stay mired in negativity all of the time. Connections founded solely upon shared complaints are not healthy. And we have to consider how our complaining impacts the health of those around us.
Similarly, complaining without action gets old. We’ve all experienced frustration with someone who complains about the same thing over and over without doing anything differently. Maybe we’ve been that person. Repetitive complaining (or “venting”) can be bad for us and our relationships. It often reinforces feelings of powerlessness, even when we do hold some power to make a change.
The above tweet from Nedra Glover Tawwab stopped me in my tracks when I first read it. I find it powerful because it doesn’t tell us to stop complaining. It guides us to pay attention to what we’re chronically complaining about and invites us to locate our power to make a change within our locus of control.
Complaining can be a cry for help and a starting point. We may not know where to begin to address what’s wrong, but if it’s never spoken about, there’s even less of a chance of finding a solution to—or improving—a situation. And though not everyone is looking for solutions when they complain to their loved ones, and in fact sometimes the search for solutions can be unwanted and unhelpful in the moment, chronic complaining about the same thing is an indicator that change is needed.
Complaining is an opportunity to learn about, communicate about, and meet needs.
I consider myself a lifelong learner, and I’ve found that complaining helps me to learn. Getting curious about my own complaints helps me to learn about myself: my triggers, needs, values, and why I feel the way I do. Similarly, approaching others’ complaints with curiosity helps me to learn about them and life experiences that are different from my own.
Usually, we are complaining because we have a need that is going unmet. Complaints are a jumping off point to identifying, voicing, and addressing unmet needs. Approaching complaints with curiosity unleashes potential for growth, learning, and strengthened connection.
How we navigate complaints in relationships has a big impact on relational health, but the issue goes beyond the individual and interpersonal. Our cultural approaches to complaining have implications for our institutions and society overall. Which leads us to…
Complaining is a path to liberation.
Not to turn this into a poorly-written school paper, but with all of this talk about complaining, what are we really talking about? A quick Google search turns up the following definitions of complaining:
“the expression of dissatisfaction or annoyance” (Oxford Languages)
“to express grief, pain, or discontent” (Merriam-Webster)
“the act of saying that something is wrong or not satisfactory” (Cambridge)
What’s so bad about the act of complaining as described in these definitions? Is complaining too direct? Too honest? Are the wrongs we point out too inconvenient, uncomfortable or challenging?
Is complaining a subversive action predicated on the belief that when things are wrong, we should speak up and seek to correct them?
In the article, “In defence of complaining,” Sarah Kendzior writes:
The surest way to keep a problem from being solved is to deny that problem exists. Telling people not to complain is a way of keeping social issues from being addressed. It trivialises the grievances of the vulnerable, making the burdened feel like burdens. Telling people not to complain is an act of power, a way of asserting that one’s position is more important than another one’s pain. People who say “stop complaining” always have the right to stop listening. But those who complain have often been denied the right to speak.
Complaints are at the root of consciousness-building and social movements. The collective identification and expression of shared complaints are the foundation of much protest and resistance against harmful systems. They are a jumping-off point for envisioning and enacting new paradigms. No wonder complaining is so frowned upon; it is a challenge to the powerful and to a harmful status quo.
Complaining at Work
Why am I, an organizational culture consultant, defending complaining? After all, toxic work environments are in part characterized by intense and persistent negativity, or ”the echo chamber of discontent,” as a good friend of mine so eloquently put it during one of our conversations.
Complaining in organizations is often frowned upon and can contribute to an unhealthy work environment, but what are employees complaining about? What needs of employees are going unmet? Are those in positions of power and authority listening and responding to complaints, or do they have no resolution or redress?
Are there trust and communication breakdowns between leaders and staff that are perpetuating disconnection and mutual resentment? Does organizational culture generate productive or unproductive complaining? Or does it stifle it altogether?
Even employees in organizations with a mostly positive culture can be hesitant to complain about or criticize organizational practices because complaining is viewed so negatively in the broader culture. They don’t wish to be perceived as ungrateful or disloyal by drawing attention to what’s not working or what could be improved.
The thing is, organizational risks are more likely to go unidentified when employees do not feel safe and supported to complain. Unfortunately, people who speak up about issues in organizations are often treated as the problem, while the problems they speak about go ignored. This common practice is a form of institutional betrayal, which is institutional action or inaction that causes harm to its members.
The Center for Institutional Courage presents an antidote to institutional betrayal: you guessed it, institutional courage. It outlines 11 steps to promote institutional courage, one of which is: “Cherish the whistleblowers; cherish the truth tellers.” This is a rare practice, but it doesn’t have to be.
Shifting culture to encourage and appreciate those who voice concerns, frustations, and complaints is not only possible, it is necessary. Creating space for institutional members to routinely identify issues and building systems for following through to address concerns is key to creating safer and healthier environments.
I’m also reminded of the visionary call for Love WITH Accountability, a message from Aishah Shahidah Simmons that focuses on preventing and healing from child sexual abuse, but which has resonance from the interpersonal to the geopolitical. Imagine a culture where we normalize accountability along with love: for ourselves and others. Imagine a culture where loyalty doesn’t require tolerating violence, dehumanization or disrespect.
Healthy relationships, organizations, and alliances recognize that accountability must be present alongside love, care and connection. Denying or attempting to justify the wrongs within our families, communities, organizations and societies compounds harm.
Complaining can be toxic in excess, as is true with most things, but there is such a thing as a healthy dose of complaining. The absence of complaining–by definition, the suppression of grief, pain, and dissatisfaction–is also toxic for individuals, relationships and organizations.
A complaint does not negate love, nor gratitude. It can be a bid for connection that invites curiosity, learning and growth. It can be an opportunity to acknowledge conditions that are causing harm and to innovate and get creative within systems and relationships.
A culture that suppresses complaining is a culture opposed to learning and growth.
A culture that instead meets complaints with the questions: “What is the problem, what can we learn and how can we grow?” is a culture that will ultimately create conditions where less complaining is warranted.
I’m a culture nerd who leads culture assessments to assess and enhance organizational health. Contact me to learn more about culture assessments and other organizational strategies for decreasing stress and improving well-being at work.
This has been extremely helpful, Rebecca! This not only encouraged me, but it helped me prepare for a courageous conversation. I went in feeling confident & feeling that my concerns mattered. Thank you for this!
Love, love, love!