Not Every Story Has a Villain : Sometimes we need to stop choosing sides and Start listening

Written by Ms. Gurneet Kaur Jaitly, Counselling Psychologist

“You know what hurt the most?” she asked me during a counselling session. “It wasn’t the argument. It was watching everyone choose a side without asking me what happened.”

She paused. “My mother supported my brother. My relatives had their opinions. Everyone seemed to know my story—but no one had actually asked me to tell it.”

Her words stayed with me. In many Indian and South Asian families, conflict rarely remains between two people. It travels: from room to room, phone call to phone call, until a private disagreement hardens into a collective narrative. One person shares their pain, an elder adds an interpretation, and suddenly, the person at the centre is no longer part of the conversation. They have become the subject of it.

As a psychologist, I frequently see how damaging this is. When an entire unit agrees against us, we internalise the blame: “If everyone thinks I am wrong, maybe I am.” Self-reflection is healthy, but being outnumbered is not proof that you are wrong. Equally, being the one heard first does not make you right.

When One Person Becomes “The Problem”

In unhealthy family dynamics, one person often becomes the scapegoat. If they speak up, they are disrespectful. If they defend themselves, aggressive. If they stay quiet, arrogant. When they finally react after repeated hurt, everyone focuses on the reaction—never the catalyst.

Slowly, the individual questions their own reality, apologising for events outside their control and over-explaining every decision. The goal of resolution should never be deciding who the villain is; it must be understanding what actually happened.

When Family Love Becomes Family Bias

Family conflicts are complicated because love naturally distorts objective judgement. You love your mother; you trust your brother; you respect an elder. That is entirely human. But love is not evidence.

Knowing someone deeply does not mean knowing every version of their behaviour. Emotional maturity means separating affection from assessment. You can love someone and still state: “I understand your pain, but I need to hear the other side too.” That is not betrayal. That is fairness. When families form camps, disagreement devolves into a loyalty test where someone inevitably becomes the outsider.

The Quiet Pain of Social Boycott

Sometimes conflict manifests as silent exclusion. Messages go unanswered, conversations freeze upon entering a room, and gatherings happen without an invite. The unstated message is clear: You no longer belong.

For many, this silent exile hurts far more than open hostility. Family is our foundational experience of belonging. Collective isolation is not taking healthy space; it is emotional control. No one should have to purchase their place in a family through silent compliance.

The Role of Elders: Bridge or Barrier?

Elders hold immense emotional authority. A single sentence from a patriarch or matriarch can calm a conflict or cement a divide. Ideally, elders serve as emotional anchors. Yet bias, favourites, and blind spots exist at every age. An elder may instinctively defend whoever cries first, speaks louder, or appears more vulnerable. When they carry messages, compare siblings, or demand that one person “just adjust,” they cease being an objective bridge.

The primary responsibility of an elder is not to pass premature verdicts, but to ask: “Have we heard everyone?”

When Reaction Becomes Evidence

A pervasive pattern in family conflict is continuous provocation followed by public blame. When you finally snap after sustained criticism or boundary violations, your reaction is weaponised against you: “See how aggressive you are?”

This is why emotional regulation matters—not to tolerate poor behaviour, but to ensure your reaction remains entirely yours. Pausing, breathing, and stepping away is not weakness; it is refusing to hand over emotional control.

Similarly, stop over-explaining. You do not need a ten-minute defence for a basic boundary. Stating “I am not comfortable with this,” “I see it differently,” or “I don’t wish to discuss this further” is enough. A boundary does not require unanimous family approval to be valid.

Breaking the Cycle

Before taking a side or repeating a narrative, pause and reflect on whether you have heard both perspectives directly, whether you are responding to verified facts rather than emotional interpretations, and whether you are genuinely supporting someone or simply joining a crowd.

At the end of our session, I asked my client: “What would change if you stopped trying to convince everyone you aren’t the villain in their story?”

She thought for a moment and replied, “Maybe I could finally focus on who I actually am.” Healing begins when we stop endlessly litigating our worth. Not every conflict has a clear villain; often, there are simply hurt individuals, differing perspectives, and unacknowledged context.

Before you judge, pause. Before you repeat a story, ask yourself: “What part of this story have I not heard yet?”