I’ve been thinking about how strange it can feel to share good news. You tell someone about a new opportunity, something you’ve been working towards, or a possibility you’re genuinely excited about, expecting to leave the conversation feeling even happier for having shared it. Instead, something feels off: maybe a pause that lasts a little too long, a smile that feels forced, or a sudden change in the mood. Nothing obvious enough to call out, but enough to make you wonder why you suddenly wish you had kept it to yourself.
Over the past year, I’ve become increasingly aware of how competitive people can be, even when there is no reason for there to be any competition at all. We compare careers, relationships, milestones, and the pace at which we seem to be figuring everything out. At some point, someone else’s success can start to feel like a reflection of our own lives, reminding us of what we haven’t achieved or where we thought we would be by now. I think most of us want to believe that the people around us are happy when good things happen to us. And, for the most part, I believe they are. But the difference lies here: Some people might genuinely want you to do well, but better than them?
I find this difficult to accept because you don’t always expect to feel this way around people you know. You aren’t trying to prove anything or make anyone feel behind; you’re simply excited about something happening in your life. Yet, sometimes, sharing that excitement leaves you feeling as though you’ve made someone uncomfortable without meaning to. I don’t think every strange reaction comes from jealousy, and I know that people have their own struggles. But I’ve started to realise that, while we can’t always know what someone else is thinking, we can pay attention to how certain interactions make us feel.
This is why the evil eye hasn’t left my mind. According to Alan Dundes (1992), the evil eye is a cultural belief that a look charged with envy or ill will can cause harm or misfortune to another person. I’m not sure I believe another person’s jealousy can magically undo something good in my life, but I understand why the idea has endured. Perhaps the evil eye gives a name to a fear many of us recognise, whether or not we believe in it literally.
Lately, this has also changed the way I think about sharing things before they have fully taken shape. When you tell someone about a plan, an opportunity, or something you’re hoping will happen, you’re sharing more than information; you’re sharing a possibility that still feels fragile. I’ve started to understand that not everything needs to be discussed while it’s happening. Sometimes, I’d rather let something become real before opening it up to other people’s opinions. Not because I’m afraid someone will take it away from me, but because I want to experience it without worrying about how it might be received.
To me, moving in silence isn’t about becoming secretive or assuming everyone has bad intentions. It’s about being more intentional with what you share and recognising the difference between people who genuinely celebrate you and those who turn everything into a comparison. I still want to tell the people I love when something wonderful happens, and I still believe that most people are capable of being genuinely happy for one another. I just don’t think everyone needs to know everything, especially when something is still new or meaningful enough that I want to keep it close.
I don’t know if the evil eye is real. What I do know is that envy exists, and that comparison can make it difficult for people to celebrate one another. What I’m still in the process of learning is that perhaps protecting your happiness doesn’t have to mean protecting yourself from everyone else. At times, it simply means allowing a good thing to belong to you before it becomes something to explain, discuss, or share.
Image credit: Walker Evans; ’89 Portraits and Snapshots: Carrol Cooney and Bocce Tournament Spectators‘, 1967–68