The term “self-care” has become a pervasive cultural touchstone, often presented as a solution to the anxieties of modern life. It suggests that the remedy for burnout, exhaustion, and despair lies in individual acts of consumption, ranging from scented candles to expensive skincare routines. This highly individualistic framing of well-being subtly absolves systems of their responsibility for the harm they create.
It places the entire burden of repair onto the shoulders of the individual. This is a core component of the neoliberal ideology, which privatises our pain and markets us a temporary relief rather than lasting liberation. A closer look reveals that what we call “self-care” is more often a commodified distraction from the root causes of our collective suffering (Walker, 2018).
The commodification of self-care has transformed a political act of survival, first championed by Black feminists, into an accessible lifestyle brand for those with disposable income. For many, the expectation to engage in these practices becomes another item on an already overwhelming to-do list, creating more stress rather than less. We are sold a fantasy of individual tranquillity that is ultimately a poor substitute for authentic community and systemic change. This approach neglects the fact that our physical and emotional health are deeply intertwined with the health of our communities and the political systems we live under.
The illusion of the bubble bath is that it can wash away the dirt of a society designed to extract labour from us until we have nothing left to give. It creates a cycle of temporary relief, followed by a return to the same conditions that caused the harm in the first place, leaving us perpetually searching for the next quick fix. The promise of individual healing is a mirage that keeps us from seeing the power in our shared struggles.
The Neoliberal Mirage of the Bubble Bath
Instead of a genuine solution, this framing encourages us to blame ourselves for our inability to cope with an untenable reality. It makes us feel as though our burnout is a personal failing, a sign that we simply have not tried hard enough to “manage our stress.” This is a profoundly cruel and isolating narrative that ignores the political dimensions of exhaustion and trauma. This model of care is a perfect symptom of a society that values production over people, seeing human beings as resources to be managed rather than souls to be nurtured.
This is where we must start: by asserting that, beyond self-care feminism is not just an idea but a vital political project. The focus on the individual is a deliberate tactic to fragment our movements and prevent us from coming together in solidarity. We are taught to retreat into our private worlds when what we need most is to reach out and connect. The solitary practice of self-care, therefore, serves to maintain the status quo by keeping us focused on personal maintenance rather than collective organising. It is a form of social control disguised as a personal choice.
The political deconstruction of “self-care” must begin by acknowledging that its roots lie in resistance, but that its current manifestation has been co-opted. Early Black feminists understood that caring for oneself was a radical act in a world that actively sought to dehumanise them. This was not about consumerism, but about survival, a fierce declaration of one’s humanity in the face of brutal oppression.
Today, however, the meaning has been distorted and its radical potential neutered. We must reclaim this original spirit of care, not as an individualised product, but as a community-based practice of survival and liberation. This is not about asking ‘what can I do to feel better?’ but ‘what can we do to make a better world?’ A truly feminist approach to healing must address the systemic issues that make us unwell in the first place, and that means we must think and act collectively. This begins with a rejection of the idea that our well-being is a private matter.
Trauma, Isolation, and the Patriarchal Grind
Patriarchal and capitalist systems are expertly designed to isolate and burn out individuals, placing the burden of emotional and physical repair squarely on our shoulders. This is especially true for women and marginalised people, who are disproportionately subjected to the unique forms of systemic violence and oppression. The pressure to be productive, to care for others, and to maintain an emotional front for a society that does not care for us in return is an exhausting and deeply traumatising experience.
The system profits from this exhaustion, as our individualistic struggles for coping mechanisms fuel the wellness industry while distracting us from the sources of our pain. This cycle of harm and commodified healing is a core feature of the patriarchal grind, which demands an endless supply of labour and emotional resilience without offering any genuine support. We are constantly being told to “be strong” and to “push through,” a toxic mantra that erases the reality of our shared pain.
The experience of trauma, particularly that caused by systemic oppression, is fundamentally isolating. It creates a sense of profound loneliness, as if our pain is ours alone to bear and no one else could understand it. This isolation is not accidental; it is a tool of control, a way to prevent us from identifying the common threads of our suffering and organising in response. In direct opposition to this, community healing for survivors of systemic oppression is a powerful antidote. It builds a sanctuary where we can share our stories, validate one another’s experiences, and recognise that our trauma is often a product of political oppression.
This shift from individual pain to collective understanding is a critical first step towards building a truly resilient community. By coming together, we can begin to mend the wounds that the system has inflicted upon us, not with a temporary bandage, but with the deep, communal work of genuine repair. Our shared narratives become a source of strength, not a cause for shame.
The need for healing is not universal in its intensity; it is particularly urgent for women of colour, disabled individuals, and queer communities who face intersecting oppressions. Intersectional theory teaches us that our identities are not single strands but are woven together, and that the harm we experience is magnified at these points of intersection. This is evident in recent UK data, which shows that in the year to March 2023, Black people were 3.6 times as likely as white people to be detained under the Mental Health Act (NHS England, 2024).
The burden of healing justice vs. self-care frameworks is thus disproportionately heavy for those who are targeted by multiple systems of oppression simultaneously. This is why a one-size-fits-all approach to care is not only insufficient but can be actively harmful, erasing the specific struggles of those at the margins. A truly liberatory approach to healing must be trauma-informed and must centre the voices and experiences of those most impacted by systemic violence. We must create spaces where the specific nature of this intersecting pain is not just acknowledged, but is held and witnessed in a spirit of empathy and solidarity. This is a critical step in building a movement that is genuinely for everyone.
The capitalist ideology tells us that our value is determined by our productivity and our ability to endure hardship without complaint. This ideology is especially insidious for those in caregiving roles, a burden that historically and predominantly falls on women and non-binary people. The emotional labour of holding space for others, of managing household needs, and of performing the invisible work of care is not only uncompensated but is actively devalued by the system. This relentless grind can lead to severe burnout, a state of total emotional and physical depletion that the system then tells us to fix with a yoga class or a new gratitude journal.
Healing justice activism is a powerful rejection of this narrative, as it declares that our worth is not tied to our output and that our well-being is a fundamental human right. It is a movement that pushes back against the patriarchal demand for endless resilience, offering instead a vision of sustainable care and shared responsibility. Our ability to care for ourselves and one another is a form of revolutionary resistance.
Collective Healing as Radical Resistance
We must now walk the path from individual self-care to collective healing in the UK, embarking on a political journey—from ‘bubble baths to barricades’—that moves us from isolated resilience to communal power. Collective healing is a radical practice rooted in mutual aid, solidarity, and the recognition that our trauma is a political issue. This framework understands that true healing cannot happen in a vacuum; it requires a deep, communal shift away from individualism and towards a sense of shared responsibility.
This is not about simply “feeling better” on an individual level, but about creating the social and political conditions for our communities to thrive. It is about building a world where our well-being is not an afterthought, but is at the very heart of our movements and our everyday lives. This is a bold rejection of the idea that our well-being is a private matter.
The healing justice movement is a political project that intentionally connects our healing to our collective liberation. It asserts that we cannot build a just society without also addressing the harm that we have endured under unjust systems. This approach reframes healing not as an endpoint, but as an ongoing process that is integral to our activist work.
It recognises that our pain, our grief, and our joy are all interconnected and that we must hold space for all of these emotions within our movements. This is a crucial reorientation of priorities, one that places our emotional and physical well-being on par with our political goals. It understands that a revolution built on the backs of burnt-out activists is not a sustainable one.
This new framework for feminist healing justice requires us to challenge the very foundations of how we think about care. We must move away from the idea of “self-care” as a temporary fix and embrace collective care, not self-care as a long-term strategy for building power. This means creating and sustaining communities that are built on a foundation of mutual aid and support, where we hold one another accountable while also holding one another close.
This shift requires a profound change in our personal and political behaviours, demanding that we prioritise interdependence over independence. We must learn to ask for help, to offer help, and to see our well-being as inextricably linked to the well-being of those around us. This is the radical front in the fight for feminist liberation, a powerful declaration that our collective health is the foundation of our collective power.
A radical front in the fight for feminist liberation, collective healing is a forward-looking strategy for our movements. It is an act of defiance against a system that profits from our isolation, and a powerful declaration that our health and our liberation are the same. It is a process of reclaiming our power, our humanity, and our joy from the systems that have sought to take them from us. When we heal together, we not only mend our wounds, but we also create the kind of world we are fighting for. The act of caring for one another becomes a living example of the just and equitable future we are working to build.
UK Case Study: Trans-Led Care and Mutual Aid
Within the UK, trans-led collective healing is not a theoretical concept; it is a lived and vital practice that is building resilience and fostering authentic community in the face of immense systemic hostility. Organisations like Gendered Intelligence, a UK charity, stand as a powerful example of this work, moving far beyond the simple provision of information and support groups. They have worked to cultivate spaces where trans, non-binary, and gender-diverse individuals can not only find community but can also actively shape and define what their well-being looks like.
This is about more than just surviving; it is about building a world where trans people can genuinely thrive, on their terms. It is a rejection of a medical model that often pathologises trans identity, offering instead a community-based approach that centres lived experience. The work of Gendered Intelligence is a powerful reminder that care must be led by those who need it most.
This grassroots model of care challenges the idea that healing is a hierarchical process, where a few experts hold all the answers. Instead, it asserts that the wisdom and strength needed for healing already exist within the community itself. Trans-led networks in the UK have developed creative and robust mutual aid projects, from resource-sharing groups to peer-to-peer mental health support, that bypass the often-unsupportive and underfunded formal healthcare system.
These initiatives are not just about filling a gap in services; they are about building structures of solidarity and interdependence that actively resist state violence and institutional neglect. In these spaces, individuals become both the givers and receivers of care, breaking down the traditional power dynamics that often exist within therapeutic relationships. This is a powerful form of anti-capitalist well-being, as it operates outside the market and prioritises human needs over profit. It is a living example of how true healing can only happen when we rely on one another.
A vignette of this work might look like this: A trans woman who has faced years of discrimination in the workplace finds solace not in a prescribed therapy session, but in a trans-only support group where her experiences are not questioned but validated. In this group, she finds others who have navigated similar challenges and who can offer practical advice, emotional solidarity, and a sense of belonging she has never known.
This group then collectively organises to create a fund to help another member afford a legal name change, a practical barrier that the state places in the way of trans people. This is how to practice collective healing as activism in a concrete way, moving from the sharing of stories to the redistribution of resources in a radical act of mutual aid. It is a process that understands that our healing is not separate from our fight for justice.
The work of these organisations and communities is a powerful testament to the idea that our collective health is the foundation of our collective power. They are not just providing services; they are building a new kind of society, one rooted in care, dignity, and a profound respect for human life. Their work demonstrates that when we take our healing into our own hands and build our systems of support, we are not only surviving but are also building the very infrastructure of liberation. These spaces are a living declaration that we are not alone in our struggles.
Women of Colour & Community-Driven Resilience
For women of colour in the UK, mutual aid and emotional resilience by women of colour is a form of survival that has been honed over generations of navigating intersecting systems of oppression. These communities have long understood that a one-size-fits-all approach to mental health is insufficient, as it often fails to account for the unique challenges of racism, sexism, and classism. Community-led initiatives, such as those inspired by Sistah Space, a UK-based charity that supports African and Caribbean heritage women affected by domestic violence, have been critical in providing culturally sensitive and trauma-informed care.
These spaces are not just about emotional support; they are about building a framework of feminist collective resilience that is rooted in a shared history and a shared struggle. The work of Sistah Space and similar organisations is a powerful rejection of a system that often fails to protect women of colour, offering a sanctuary of solidarity and safety instead. These spaces are a testament to the power of community in the face of systemic neglect.
This community-driven resilience is a form of trauma-informed activism, where the goal is not to simply “get over” trauma, but to heal from it in a way that fuels political action. A vignette of this might feature a group of Black women in London who meet in a community hall to share their experiences of microaggressions in the workplace. They find a space to vent their frustrations, to validate one another’s feelings, and to collectively strategise on how to address these harms.
This is not therapy in a traditional sense, but communal healing rituals in practice, where the act of sharing becomes a powerful political tool. They are not just processing their pain; they are transforming it into a source of collective power and a pathway to justice. This is a critical example of abolitionist healing practices that seek to dismantle the systems that cause harm rather than simply managing the symptoms of that harm. The power of these spaces is their ability to both heal the individual and to fuel the movement.
The act of building healing circles instead of self-care is a profound statement of resistance, particularly for women of colour. These circles create a container for collective grief, joy, and rage, where all emotions are held with care and respect. These spaces are a crucial antidote to the isolation that systemic oppression can create.
In a world that constantly tells women of colour to be strong and silent, these healing circles offer a space to be vulnerable, to be seen, and to be heard. They are a place to process the emotional toll of living in a world that is not designed for their survival. This is a powerful act of emotional solidarity, as it declares that we are not alone in our struggles.
The focus on collective care in the UK within these communities highlights a crucial difference between individual and communal approaches to well-being. It is a recognition that our healing is not just about our journey, but is also about the health of our community as a whole. This is a powerful rejection of the individualistic ethos of neoliberalism and a return to the long-standing traditions of mutual aid and support that have sustained communities of colour for generations. The resilience of these communities is not a personal trait but a collective strength, forged in the fires of shared struggle and sustained by a profound commitment to one another’s well-being. This is a model for all of us.
Building the Barricades: A Practical Framework
Moving from self-care to collective care in the UK requires us to build the barricades of our liberation. This is a practical, ongoing project that demands intentionality, accountability, and a profound commitment to one another. The first step in this framework is to redefine what we mean by “care” itself, moving it from a passive act of personal maintenance to an active, shared responsibility.
This means creating structures of mutual aid within our communities, where we can share resources, skills, and emotional support equitably and sustainably. This is not about a vague sense of goodwill, but about building concrete systems that can meet our needs when the state or the market fails to do so. We must see this as a form of anti-capitalist well-being, as it operates outside the logic of profit and transaction.
The next step is to create dedicated spaces for communal healing rituals, where we can come together to process trauma, celebrate resilience, and rebuild our sense of collective identity. These can be as formal as a healing circle or as informal as a regular gathering for food and conversation, but the key is that they are intentional spaces for connection and vulnerability.
These spaces must be rooted in an understanding of intersectionality, ensuring that the voices of those most impacted by oppression are centred and honoured. This is a crucial step in building a truly inclusive and equitable movement. We must be willing to do the hard work of building these spaces, as they are the lifeblood of our liberation. We must learn to hold one another in our pain and our joy, and to see these acts as a vital form of political work.
Another key component of this framework is to practice radical care practices, which go beyond the surface level of emotional support and address the root causes of our pain. This means challenging the systems and behaviours within our movements that replicate the harm of the larger world. It requires us to be accountable to one another, to have difficult conversations, and to be willing to grow and change. This is the messy and beautiful work of building a new world in the shell of the old. It is a recognition that our healing is not separate from our fight for justice.
Our feminist collective well-being strategies must also be forward-looking, offering a hopeful vision of what is possible when we heal together. This means celebrating our progress, honouring our resilience, and never losing sight of the world we are fighting for. The act of healing together is a radical act of imagination, as we are creating a new reality where care is not a commodity but a human right. We are not just fighting against the old world; we are building the new one, one act of care at a time. The barricades we build are not just for defence, but are also for the gardens of care that we are planting behind them.
From Barricades, a Garden of Care
The path beyond self-care and toward a truly liberated future is a collective one. By deconstructing the neoliberal mirage of individual well-being, we can begin to see that our pain is a symptom of a political problem. The work of collective healing, exemplified by grassroots movements and organisations across the UK, is not just a form of resistance; it is the very foundation of our power. When we move from bubble baths to barricades, we are not abandoning our need for rest, but are instead elevating it as a strategic component of a larger project of communal liberation. This is a declaration that our health and our liberation are the same.
We must remember that our ability to care for ourselves and one another is not a private matter but a political one. It is a radical act of imagination and a powerful tool for building the kind of world we want to live in. The work of Collective Care in the UK reminds us that we are not alone in our struggles and that our healing is not just for ourselves, but is for our communities and the future we are fighting to build.
So, where do we go from here? The path from theory to practice begins with a single step. Consider joining or donating to organisations like Sistah Space and Gendered Intelligence, whose work is a living example of collective healing in action. Look for local mutual aid networks in your community, or start a simple healing circle with friends and neighbours to share and hold space for one another’s experiences. The simple act of reaching out is a powerful declaration that our collective health is the foundation of our collective power.
References
NHS England. (2024). Mental Health Act Statistics, Annual Figures, 2023-24. Retrieved from https://digital.nhs.uk/data-and-information/publications/statistical/mental-health-act-statistics-annual-figures/2023-24-annual-figures/detentions-differences-between-groups-of-people
Walker, J. (2018). The Wellness Industrial Complex: The commodification of self-care and the politics of resistance. University of London Press.
Community Spotlights
Gendered Intelligence: A UK-based charity that works to increase the capacity for transgender people to flourish, with a focus on trans youth and young adults. Their work includes peer support groups, community events, and training for organisations.
Sistah Space: A UK charity founded to bridge the gap in service provision for African and Caribbean heritage women and girls experiencing domestic violence and abuse. They provide a culturally specific service that focuses on the particular needs of their community.
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