Toxic Positivity Is Dead: How Gen Z’s Betrayal List Trend Became the Antidote to Wellness Culture

Introduction

Hot take: the decade of curated glow-ups, gratitude reels, and hustle-ethic manifestos just met its most Gen Z nemesis — the “betrayal list.” What started as a chaotic, high-drama post from Ye in September 2025 mutated into a social-media movement that reads like a collective group chat for everything that’s quietly — or loudly — been annoying people for years. In less than a month the format moved from celebrity spectacle to meme-to-movement, with TikTok and Instagram feeds full of everyday confessions framed as betrayals: bad Wi‑Fi, coworkers who schedule 5 p.m. meetings, cold fries, paper straws, and the emotional labor of being forced to smile through stress.

This trend lands at a precise cultural moment. Wellness culture has dominated social media for most of the 2020s: a steady stream of aspirational mornings, breathwork tutorials, crystal displays, and the messaging that you can optimally grind, heal, and glow if you buy the right product or habit. But what if you’re allowed to be annoyed, tired, fed up, or petty — publicly? The betrayal list does exactly that. It flips the “good vibes only” script by making a virtue of complaining, combining sincere frustration with performative humor to create a space for authenticity over curated calm.

This piece is a hot-take deep dive for the social media culture crowd: where the trend came from, why it matters, who’s involved, what we actually know (and what we don’t), how creators and brands should respond, and what this means for the broader backlash against toxic positivity. I’ll use the reporting and details available from the trend’s emergence in September 2025 through the October 2025 viral wave — including the original Ye post, the rapid repurposing on TikTok and Instagram, the Notes-app aesthetic, and the lack of hard metrics in reporting — to make sense of why Gen Z turned a rage list into a cultural corrective.

If wellness culture told us “fix yourself, stay positive, monetize your healing,” the betrayal list says: “No thanks — people and systems can suck, and that’s allowed.” Read on for analysis, examples, and actionable moves for creators, brands, and users who want to meet this moment without tone-deafness.

Understanding the Betrayal List Trend

Where it began: The immediate origin of the format traces back to September 2025, when Kanye West — now popularly referred to as Ye in media coverage of the incident — posted what he called “THE BETRAYAL,” naming dozens of people and entities as having wronged him. In that post he wrote, poignantly and dramatically, “in pain no person that no one person can fix,” and listed everyone from ex-spouses to public figures and fictional characters. That high-emotion, exhaustive list was itself a spectacle — a celebrity airing of grievances — and it contained the key ingredient that made the format contagious: drama paired with specificity.

How Gen Z retooled it: Within weeks of Ye’s post the format was repurposed. Instead of listing betrayals against a personal life, creators started listing everyday betrayals — from the mundane (cold fries, slow loading screens) to the systemic (hustle culture, predatory ticketing platforms). This viral second wave — taking off in early to mid-October 2025 — flipped the intent. It wasn’t about revenge or celeb feud receipts; it was a communal airing of petty truths and structural annoyances, framed with the same hyperbolic solemnity Ye used but with far more humor and relatability.

Platform mechanics matter: TikTok’s algorithm and audio culture accelerated the spread. Users remixing the same dramatic audio created a recognizable template. Instagram, particularly in feed posts and Reels, mirrored the trend with a Notes-app-on-screen aesthetic and text-based lists that read like conversations you’d see in a group chat. The low-production style — plain text, deadpan delivery, or melodramatic music — contrasted sharply with the polished aspirational content that wellness influencers produce, and that contrast is key to the trend’s point: it’s not curated; it’s cathartic.

What the lists contain: Examples run the full spectrum. People list Wi‑Fi failures, printer jams, meeting scheduling norms, cold fries, underwire bras, skinny mirrors in dressing rooms, and the emotional labor of answering “when are you having kids?” alongside bigger grievances like Ticketmaster’s pricing, Snapchat’s memory monetization, and Apple’s storage limits. By putting minor irritations and structural irritants on the same stage, creators democratize complaint — they say all these annoyances deserve naming.

Why it resonates: The betrayal list scratches a particular itch. Gen Z grew up in a world saturated with performance: performative positivity, performative productivity, performative self-care. The list creates permission to be petty, tired, and un-optimized. It acknowledges normal frustration rather than framing it as a personal failing to be fixed with another habit loop or paid course. That’s the opposite of toxic positivity, which insists you stay upbeat regardless of context or that you “work on yourself” alone to solve problems often rooted in systems.

What we don’t fully know (yet): Reporting so far describes viral spread and tone but lacks hard metrics — view counts across platforms, demographic breakdowns beyond “Gen Z and younger millennials,” or platform-level commentary from Meta or TikTok. There are few formal expert quotes in mainstream short-form reporting at the time of writing; much of the analysis is interpretive. The result: we can reliably say the trend is prominent and culturally revealing, but not precisely how big it is in quantitative terms, or whether its popularity will translate into long-term behavior change.

Key Components and Analysis

Let’s pull the trend apart. What makes the betrayal list effective, and what does each component reveal about the culture that birthed it?

The origin-story energy

- Analysis: When a high-profile, emotionally raw post by a celebrity enters the cultural feed, it provides a template and permission structure. Ye’s post had performative rawness: “I’m wronged, and I will list every offense.” That blueprint is magnetic; it invites everyone to copy the form for their own grievances. The celebrity origin also gives the format cachet: it’s dramatic by design.

Audio-visual memetics

- Analysis: TikTok’s algorithm privileges audio trends — once a sound becomes sticky, the format replicates rapidly. Users join partly for the social signal (everyone’s doing it) and partly because the audio provides comedic punctuation. Instagram adapted the trend in static or short-form ways (Notes screenshots, Reels), proving the idea is platform-agnostic.

The Notes-app aesthetic and anti-polish

- Analysis: The minimalist, low-production look is purposeful. It communicates authenticity. Where wellness content is hyper-curated (glass-of-water morning routines, carefully stylized breathwork), the betrayal list aesthetic says: no filters, fewer illusions, all grievances. It’s a visual middle finger to influencer gloss.

Humor + seriousness blend

- Analysis: The trend’s genius is its tone ambiguity. A list that includes both “cold fries” and “hustle culture” lets creators toggle between comedy and critique. That tonal flexibility broadens appeal — some people watch for laughs, others for catharsis, and others for critique.

Democratizing complaint and emotional normalization

- Analysis: Toxic positivity tends to police emotional expression: gratitude only, no complaining. The betrayal list refuses that policing. By airing petty grievances publicly, users normalize ordinary irritation and institutional grievance. That’s emotionally liberating for many — you don’t have to medicalize or monetize your feelings to be heard.

Anti-wellness subtext

- Analysis: Wellness as a monetized ecosystem sells optimization. The betrayal list undercuts that by making public what wellness culture asks people to fix privately. There’s an implicit critique: you can’t meditate away predatory platforms, systemic inequities, or the grind culture that exploits labor and mental health. Calling those betrayals reframes them as external, not personal failures.

Lack of formal metrics and academic analysis (for now)

- Analysis: The absence of rigorous data can be a double-edged sword. On one hand, the trend’s cultural meaning is clear in tone and spread. On the other, without numbers or expert interviews, punditry risks overclaiming. The current discourse is mostly interpretive — expect more empirical work if the trend persists.

Who benefits (and who could get it wrong)

- Analysis: Creators who are nimble can use the trend to build community via shared grievance. Brands that respond inauthentically or use the format as a hollow marketing opportunity risk backlash. Wellness influencers who pivot solely by “joining” the trend without acknowledging the critique may appear performatively tone-deaf.

Practical Applications

This is where the rubber meets the road. If you make content, manage a brand, or study social media culture, here are practical ways to respond to — or leverage — the betrayal list moment without being performative, exploitative, or tone-deaf.

For creators and influencers - Join the conversation authentically: If you participate, pick grievances that align with your lived experience. The trend values honesty; superficial participation reads as content farming. - Use humor plus nuance: Lists that mix petty and structural betrayals land best. A Reel that zings with cold coffee but also names predatory ticketing platforms shows range and depth. - Avoid monetizing the catharsis: Turning the format into a sales funnel (e.g., “Here’s my betrayal list — buy my course to fix it!”) undermines the core critique and invites ridicule.

For brands and marketers - Don’t co-opt the format for generic promos. If you must participate, center your brand actions: show policy change, customer-friendly refunds, improved service. Authentic response > viral mimicry. - Use the trend to surface product pain points genuinely. If multiple users list “terrible customer support” or “hard returns,” pay attention and fix it — then quietly share the fix with customers. - Be humble and human: If a brand’s policies are on the list, acknowledge it and outline steps for improvement. A transparent, small-scale fix is better than a marketing stunt.

For community managers and platforms - Amplify context: Where lists include systemic betrayals (like Ticketmaster pricing), add resources and context about consumer recourse. - Resist algorithmic overpromotion of harmful content: If lists veer into doxxing or sustained harassment, moderation should protect targets. The format itself isn’t harmful; specific uses can be. - Observe, don’t weaponize: Platforms should collect data on trends to inform policy but avoid manipulating trends for engagement without ethical guardrails.

For users and everyday participants - Use the list as a boundary tool: Publicly naming what’s unacceptable can be a way to set social expectations (e.g., “Anyone who texts me at 10 p.m. about work is on my betrayal list”). - Pair humor with action: If your list names a structural problem, share resources or petitions that address it, rather than treating the trend as only entertainment.

Actionable takeaways (quick list) - Creators: Be authentic; mix petty + systemic grievances; don’t monetize the emotional moment. - Brands: Use the trend as user research — fix the problems people list and communicate fixes. - Platforms: Track the trend for moderation risks and for signals about user dissatisfaction with platform dynamics. - Academics/analysts: This is a ripe, early dataset for studying anti-positivity social movements once quantitative metrics are available. - Everyone: Remember the format democratizes complaint — name grievances, but don’t weaponize personal attacks.

Challenges and Solutions

Any viral cultural moment has friction points. Here are the real challenges around the betrayal list, followed by practical solutions to address harm and maximize the constructive potential of this backlash against toxic positivity.

Challenge: Weaponized grievance and harassment - Problem: A format that encourages listing people can be used to name-and-shame or perpetuate harassment, especially when users include private individuals or unverified allegations. - Solution: Platforms and creators should draw a line between social humor and targeted harassment. Creators should avoid listing private individuals; governance teams need clear policy language about doxxing and coordinated attacks.

Challenge: Superficial brand hijacking - Problem: Brands trying to “be relatable” by running betrayal-list ads risk ridicule and accusations of tone-deafness. - Solution: Brands should only engage if they can back it with concrete change. For instance, if a brand’s shipping often appears on betrayal lists, commit to a shipping speed improvement and public reporting on progress.

Challenge: Erosion of empathy (normalize complaining without solutions) - Problem: Normalizing complaint is cathartic, but if it stays purely cathartic it can become echo-chamber venting rather than action. - Solution: Encourage mixed-format posts: a list followed by one suggestion or resource per systemic gripe (e.g., a petition link, consumer-rights resource). This channels energy into potential change.

Challenge: Data scarcity and premature theorizing - Problem: There’s a lot of interpretive commentary but few hard metrics or academic studies yet, opening the door to overblown claims. - Solution: Journalists and researchers should track reach metrics, demographic breakdowns, and longitudinal engagement. Platforms can help by enabling aggregated trend data sharing with researchers.

Challenge: Monetization pressure - Problem: Ad-driven platforms incentivize creators to exploit every viral format for monetization, which can strip a movement of authenticity. - Solution: Creators should be mindful about what feels like exploitation. If you monetize, do it transparently and ensure your audience sees value beyond a list format.

Challenge: Trend fatigue and brevity - Problem: Social media moves fast; what’s cathartic today might be forgotten tomorrow. This undermines the potential for long-term cultural shifts. - Solution: Convert momentum into sustained projects — community docs of shared grievances, advocacy campaigns tied to persistent systemic issues, or series that revisit and track progress on items commonly named.

Future Outlook

Hot prediction: the betrayal list is less a fad than a symptom. Whether the meme maintains its exact format or morphs into new iterations, its core function — permission to be unoptimized and publicly annoyed — is likely to endure.

Short-term (next 3 months) - Widespread mimicry will probably continue across TikTok and Instagram. Expect variations: localized lists, themed lists (work betrayals, dating betrayals), and influencer-led meta-commentary. - Brands and political actors may cautiously test the format; those that do will be scrutinized. Expect PR misfires and a few thoughtful public-policy-adjacent uses (e.g., customer-service pledge updates).

Medium-term (6–18 months) - If the format persists, we’ll see formal analysis. Academics in media studies and sociology will likely study the trend as part of a broader anti-positivity movement. Expect papers and op-eds about performative wellness vs. authentic vulnerability. - Platforms may integrate similar features (text-first trend templates) or create moderation rules specific to list-based content to curb harassment.

Long-term (2–5 years) - The betrayal-list ethos could shift expectations for influencer culture: more room for messy authenticity and less reward for perfection. That would reshape creator branding: audiences may reward creators who admit limitations rather than those who sell aspiration. - Wellness culture might recalibrate. Instead of selling continuous upward optimization, a segment of the wellness industry could move toward “gritty care”: practical mental-health resources that acknowledge systemic barriers rather than offering individualized platitudes.

Possible negative paths - The format is co-opted into performative activism or brand-safe advertising, neutering its critique. - Tribalized versions of betrayal lists could deepen online echo chambers, turning shared complaint into gatekeeping or exclusionary cliques.

Possible positive paths - The trend becomes a tool for consumer accountability: repeated naming of corporate betrayals leads to product or policy shifts. - Creators use the format as a launching point for deeper conversations about mental health that resist toxic positivity and emphasize community-level solutions.

What to watch next - Platform statements and moderation moves — if Meta or TikTok issues guidance or metrics, we’ll know the trend touched broader systems. - Creator pivots — if influencers produce follow-ups with action steps or accountability measures, the trend moves from catharsis to impact. - Scholarly publications — early peer-reviewed analysis will validate and nuance current hot-take interpretations.

Conclusion

Toxic positivity as a cultural default has met a worthy adversary: a trend that publicly names annoyance, injustice, and absurdity with both humor and candor. The betrayal list is more than a meme. It’s a corrective to an ecosystem that historically pressured users to present only polished self-improvement narratives. By democratizing complaint and normalizing petty and systemic grievances side-by-side, Gen Z created a format that decouples emotional experience from marketable perfection.

Does that mean gratitude, therapy, and self-care are dead? Of course not. But it does mean that the obligation to always package pain as a transformation arc is waning. For social media culture, the betrayal list is a reminder that audiences crave authenticity and communal validation more than aspirational consumption. For brands and creators, it’s a warning: respond genuinely or be called out. For platforms and researchers, it’s an early-stage dataset with cultural implications worth tracking.

Final hot take: the betrayal list could be the most wholesome anti-wellness movement yet — not because it’s niceness disguised as complaining, but because it restores an essential human right: to be allowed to complain out loud without being immediately turned into a value proposition. If you’re watching social feeds today, you’re seeing a cultural swerve away from performative repair and toward shared, unedited human experience. In a landscape that monetized our vulnerabilities for years, that feels like the kind of rebellion that could stick.