When Social Justice Turns into Gatekeeping

On shame, trauma, power and how liberation work can slip into control

Jan 12, 2026

As a French-cultured person who lived in Australia and now lives in Canada, I often find myself at the edge, constantly learning and unlearning, trying to understand how culture, history, and trauma (personal, familial, and systemic) live in my body, my mind, and my instincts. Through ancestral healing and trauma studies, I’ve come to see how easy it is, even with the best intentions, to repeat the very patterns I want to dismantle.

Decolonization and liberation work aren’t only about systems “out there”; they’re also about the nervous systems “in here.”

I keep reflecting on how the same survival strategies that shaped colonization - control, certainty, dominance - still move through us, especially when shame or fear is activated. An invitation to all of us, especially those who speak of social justice and liberation to ask: what part of me is leading right now? The part that longs for connection, or the part that reaches for control?

Shame and guilt can easily disguise themselves as virtue.

In social-justice and spiritual spaces, I often notice white people (myself included, at times) slipping into gatekeeping roles, defending, translating, or speaking for those harmed by the system. The intention may be sincere, but when our own ancestral grief, guilt, or trauma haven’t been tended, that energy often turns outward. It can look like preaching, correcting, or shaming other white people, rather than building real solidarity rooted in humility and relationship.

The pattern repeats itself: moral dominance replaces structural dominance. Control becomes a new form of inner safety.

When a white person positions themselves as the protector or interpreter of justice for Black, Indigenous, racialized or marginalized voices, it can quietly slide into saviourism, a subtle recentering of the self. It becomes, “I will correct my people,” instead of, “I’m learning how to live in right relationship.”

Underneath, there is often inherited shame (or ancestral guilt) many settler descendants carry alongside privilege. Instead of metabolizing that shame through grief, humility, and repair, our (nervous) systems flip into control, moral performance, or intellectual dominance. I’ve come to see this as a kind of trauma-informed bypass: appearing anti-supremacist while still operating from a dominance physiology. It’s the body memory of the colonizer archetype: control as safety, righteousness as regulation.

And while we speak about dismantling supremacy, we may unknowingly reenact it: through judgment, tokenizing, or dividing people into the “good” and the “bad”.

Showing up with integrity doesn’t come from guilt. It grows out of grounded presence. It asks that we learn to feel our discomfort instead of discharging it onto others. That we replace the impulse to control with the courage to feel and relate.

Because not everyone’s experience of privilege or oppression looks the same. Yes, white skin grants social advantage in a racialized world, that’s undeniable. But whiteness also holds enormous diversity: class struggles, disability, intergenerational trauma, and the loneliness of hyper-individualism that comes with land and cultural disconnection.

If we want real change and solidarity, we need nuance. An intersectional lens that doesn’t flatten people’s lives or assume we know their story from the outside.

This is where trauma work deepens justice work. It helps me see that what looks like domination, collapse, or moral policing is often a nervous system trying to feel safe. Naming that doesn’t excuse harm, but it does open a different path. One where repair can happen without humiliation, and where harm is addressed without dispossession or exile.

Because in the end, this work isn’t about being “the good ones.” It’s about becoming people who can stay with multiple truths, grief, and difference without turning away, and without turning against.

Some questions to ask ourselves

What does my body feel like right now? open and curious, or tense and defended?
When I speak about justice or power, am I rooted in connection (ventral vagal, for those familiar with nervous system language), or in urgency and fear (sympathetic or dorsal)?
Do I feel safe enough to pause and listen, or do I need to act or speak to relieve inner discomfort?
When I correct or teach others, what’s underneath? a wish to connect, to protect, or to control?
Do I equate being “right” with being safe or worthy?
When things feel complex or ambiguous, can I stay with not knowing, or do I rush to fix or define?
Am I mistaking moral clarity for nervous-system regulation?
How do I respond to disagreement or criticism? with curiosity, withdrawal, or domination?
Do I unconsciously seek hierarchy (teacher–student, good–bad, woke–unwoke) to feel oriented or safe?
When I’m in a position of influence, do I leave room for others’ agency, or do I unconsciously gatekeep?
How do I hold power? as control over, or responsibility with?
When do I suppress my truth, intuition, or anger to maintain belonging or avoid conflict?
Do I confuse calmness with safety, or compliance with peace?
Am I performing harmony while carrying quiet resentment, fatigue, or grief underneath?
How do I know when I’m appeasing versus genuinely choosing compassion?
When shame arises (about privilege, mistakes, or harm), do I collapse, attack, or stay present and curious?
Can I tell the difference between guilt that calls for repair and shame that shuts me down?
Do I unconsciously use my “goodness” or activism to manage shame instead of integrating it?