Who Do YOU Think You Are?

Recently, I had an experience that reminded me that not everyone is happy for you when you reach important personal or professional milestones. This particular milestone was proof that I had worked hard, studied hard and pushed myself to my limits. The person in question, through their dismissive, cutting comment, showed me something important: living with meaning will sometimes provoke people who aren’t living with theirs. It also reinforced some of the findings in my recent research, that visibility in small communities changes the way people see and respond to you.

In New Zealand, we are familiar with the idea of Tall Poppy Syndrome. In simple terms, it describes the tendency to criticise, undermine, or "cut down" people who are perceived to be successful. Some people see it as a cultural mechanism that keeps us humble. Others believe it discourages leadership, innovation, entrepreneurship, and ambition.

Like many cultural ideas, the truth probably sits somewhere in the middle.

Humility is one of the things I genuinely value about rural New Zealand. Many of us would agree with the sentiment: “be successful if you want, but don't boast about it”. Success itself is rarely the problem. The challenge comes when criticism is directed not at arrogance, but at visibility. And visibility is something my research helped me understand differently. In rural communities, visibility is unavoidable.

We live in places where people know who you are. They know where you work, what land you farm, who your family is, what committees you're involved with, and whether you've recently succeeded or struggled. My research found that being known is actually one of the great strengths of rural life. People notice when you're missing. They check in when things aren't right. They support you in times of need. But visibility has another side.

The more involved you become, the more visible you become.

If you step into leadership, advocate for a cause, build a successful business, challenge the status quo, gain public recognition, or simply put yourself forward, more people form opinions about what you're doing. Most of those opinions will be positive, but some won't.

Sometimes that appears as gossip. Sometimes it looks like exclusion from social groups. Sometimes it shows up as sarcastic comments, eye-rolls, criticism on social media, or a "must be nice" response.

Not every criticism is Tall Poppy Syndrome. Success doesn't make any of us immune from feedback, mistakes, or accountability. Sometimes criticism is fair. But sometimes the reaction has less to do with what you've done and more to do with the discomfort that visibility can create in a small community.

One of my findings was that belonging in rural communities is often negotiated rather than automatically granted. Communities have social rules, expectations, and unwritten norms. Most of the time these create cohesion and stability. Occasionally they can also create gatekeeping and resistance to people who challenge existing ways of doing things.

The reality is that meaningful contribution isn't always comfortable. People who create change often attract attention. People who attract attention often attract criticism. Whether you're volunteering, advocating for your community, running a business, conducting research, serving on a board, trialling a new farming system, or taking on a leadership role, you're stepping into a space where not everyone will understand your decisions, motivations, or goals. And that's okay.

The lesson I've taken from both personal experience and years of listening to rural people is this: don't confuse criticism with failure.

Listen to genuine feedback.

Stay grounded.

Stay humble.

Keep learning.

But don't make yourself smaller simply to avoid making other people uncomfortable. Rural communities need people who are willing to contribute. They need people prepared to take calculated risks, ask difficult questions, challenge assumptions, and help shape positive futures. They need people willing to be visible. But know that this can expose places where others feel stuck, because it highlights the gap between where they are and where they hoped to be.

The people who care about the work will usually recognise what you're trying to achieve, even if they don't always agree with every decision you make. Meaningful work has never required universal approval.

It only requires a good reason to keep going.

Kathryn Wright

Rural Mental Health Clinician/Educator