From Incel Communities to Our Phones: How Focus Shapes Perception

I haven’t seen the documentary yet, but I recently came across an article about it on CBC. It explores the "incel" community—short for “involuntarily celibate”—and features interviews conducted by the director with men who identify with this group. For context, incels are typically young, lonely men who want romantic relationships but struggle to form them, often due to issues like social anxiety or low self-esteem. Instead of looking inward, though, many place the blame on women.

As you might imagine, some corners of this community can be deeply toxic, sometimes even encouraging violence against women. One chilling example from the film involved a man who stayed inside for the entire two years of the COVID lockdown—when he finally emerged, he was stunned to find that the world is ‘normal’. Another interviewee described going on a blind date and being so consumed by anxiety that he feared the woman might falsely accuse him of assault.

But what struck me most wasn’t just the extremity of their views—it was how much time these men spend consuming negative content about women and society. They become convinced that the world is set up to keep them down, and they feed on that narrative. When they finally encounter everyday life, it often doesn’t match the warped reality they’ve constructed. As the director put it, many of these men aren’t necessarily dangerous—they’re just “a little weird,” and nothing truly prevents them from forming relationships. But they’ve built mental prisons for themselves, and the more they believe the worst about others, the more those beliefs shape their reality.

This really resonated with me—not because I relate to the incel ideology, but because I’ve caught myself falling into similar traps. A few weeks ago, I watched a video about an ICE raid in the U.S., and before long, my feed was flooded with more videos about immigration enforcement. After just a few days of watching that kind of content, I started to feel like the system was collapsing or becoming cruel—even though I live in Canada.

That mindset followed me into real life. I remember driving past an immigration protest in Toronto and bracing myself for chaos—expecting violence, tear gas, some kind of unrest. But it was calm. Peaceful. Completely unlike what I’d been imagining. That moment really made me pause. I like to think I’m good at filtering out noise, but the truth is, none of us are immune to being shaped by what we consume. When you're repeatedly shown the extreme, it can start to feel like the norm.

So how do we protect ourselves from this? Honestly, it's hard. I’ve tried cutting back on news and social media, and while it's not easy, it's been worth it for my mental health.

Lately, I’ve been limiting my phone use to just six days a week—and I’ve managed to keep it up for a month now. It might not sound like a big deal, but for me, it’s progress. My goal is to eventually cut back to five days. The difference I feel on my “off” day is real: I’m less anxious, more present, and everything just feels... quieter. Calmer.

So here’s a small challenge: try going without your phone for just one day. Use it only to call or text, like we used to. No endless scrolling, no rabbit holes. You might be surprised how different the world feels when you’re not being constantly fed a narrative. Who knows—maybe you’ll even like the silence.