We're Complaining About the Culture We're Creating

Every few weeks I hear someone complaining about how shallow and materialistic our community has become. People complain that everyone is focused on looks, money, status, and image. They say people don't care enough about character anymore, that friendships feel fake, that the dating world is shallow and superficial, and that relationships have become more about what someone has than who they are.

A lot of those observations are true. What I struggle with in these complaints is the lack of self-awareness.

Some of the loudest critics of superficiality spend every day reinforcing the very values they say they can't stand. Sometimes that happens on social media, where feed after feed is filled with bodies, luxury, dramatic weight loss, expensive vacations, designer everything, and perfectly curated lives. But it doesn't stop there. It happens in the compliments we give, the people we admire, the conversations we have, the way we talk about success, and the people we celebrate. Then we turn around and wonder why people care so much about appearance, money, and status. How could they not?

The problem isn't any one post, conversation, compliment, or decision. The problem is the pattern. When the same messages are repeated often enough, they stop feeling like individual opinions and start feeling like the norm.

We like to think people learn our values from what we say. But people pay just as much, if not more, attention to what we celebrate, reward, excuse, and admire. Over time, those messages become the culture we live in. That's true in every community, and it doesn't just happen on social media.

It happens when influencers criticize superficiality while building brands around appearance, luxury, and status. It happens when matchmakers say middot (kindness and good character) are what matter most, yet continue to prioritize wealth, family name, appearance, or social status when making introductions.

It happens when community leaders preach humility, modesty, and character, yet the people who often receive the most attention, access, and admiration are those with the most money or influence.

It happens when people with status are held to a different standard, their behavior overlooked or excused while others are expected to be accountable. What we excuse teaches just as much as what we celebrate.

It happens when we acknowledge the damage caused by shame and silence around sexuality, while continuing to erase women from magazines, advertisements, and community events.

It happens when we criticize a culture that's obsessed with thinness, but also excitedly celebrate becoming thinner as though we've finally reached the finish line. If the message people keep hearing is that being thin is something to aspire to, something to congratulate, something to envy, we shouldn't be surprised when they start believing that too. We can't keep saying, "I wish people cared less about being thin," while treating thinness like a prize.

On their own, none of these things define a culture. Together, repeated over and over again, they do.

Of course people are responsible for their own choices. Adults are responsible for the decisions they make. But that doesn't mean influence isn't real. We like to hide behind the idea that "everyone is responsible for themselves," as though that somehow erases our own influence. It doesn't.

If people are constantly receiving the message that the bodies worth admiring are the thinnest ones, that success looks like the biggest house, the nicest vacation, the biggest bank account, the most prestigious job, the perfect aesthetic, or the most conventionally attractive face, we shouldn't be surprised when those become the things people chase. We've been teaching those lessons for years. Dating is one of the places where the culture we've created shows itself most clearly (and, IMHO, most terribly) and where the consequences feel impossible to ignore.

This isn't about never sharing your workout, your outfit, your vacation, or your beautiful life online (though I wouldn't tell you to NOT do it). It's not about never having nice things or doing nice things. Sharing joy and having nice things isn't the problem. The question is much bigger than that.

What are your words, actions, and choices consistently teaching people to admire?

What are you rewarding, even if you don't realize it?

That question isn't just for influencers. It's for parents. Educators. Community leaders. Matchmakers. Rabbis. Therapists. Friends. Every one of us helps shape the culture around us.

Real self-awareness isn't just recognizing what's wrong with the world around us. It's being willing to ask how we might be contributing to it. Before we criticize the culture, we should be willing to ask how we're helping create it.