Humans are social creatures who thrive in groups. Social acceptance and recognition are fundamental to us, and this is how cultures, religions, and societies have evolved. Most of us naturally conform to social and cultural norms, which influence many of our personal and professional decisions. From the clothes we wear, the religion we follow, and the gods we worship, to whom we marry, how we perceive life and death, what we teach our kids, and the careers we pursue—these choices are often dictated less by individual preference and more by the collective script of society. The influence is so pervasive that we may not even realize how deeply these norms shape us. And yet, we follow them for one simple reason: there is comfort in commonality. Doing what those around us have done for generations brings a sense of security, even if those norms once supported harmful and unethical practices like slavery, racism, casteism, or gender discrimination. Many of these injustices were normalized simply because they were universally practiced. Even today, traces of such practices linger in various forms, despite being outlawed and widely condemned, just because of comfort in commonality, when everyone does it, it cannot be wrong. There is strength in mass bigotry. When prejudice or discrimination is shared by the majority, it gains a dangerous legitimacy that makes it harder for individuals to challenge. What is morally wrong becomes socially acceptable simply because it is collectively endorsed.
Why do we find so much reassurance in conforming to societal expectations? Why is it so difficult to step outside them, even when they seem trivial or irrational? From personal experience, I know how hard it is to resist deeply rooted and outdated cultural and social norms. When you choose a different path, people not only question your decision, but there is a potential risk that you might get excluded from social circles. One could argue that if you reject the rules, you shouldn’t want to be part of the group upholding them. But the issue is not always about the rituals or beliefs—it’s about human connection. I often find myself attending social or religious gatherings, not for the rituals but for the people. Yet, this nuance is rarely understood. Some communities view skepticism toward their values as a threat, making genuine inclusion difficult. It is rare to find a group that embraces you fully without demanding conformity. The tension always looms when you are in a minority that has rejected outdated rituals and values after much reflection, and sometimes this means grappling with this tension indefinitely.
The comfort of commonality extends beyond religion and culture into nearly every stage of life. Society offers a pre-written roadmap: go to school, excel academically, attend a prestigious college and again axcel there, pick one of the “hot” careers that promises a big paycheck, marry by a certain age, buy a house, take yearly vacations, have children before you’re “too old,” avoid divorce at any cost, and pass on the same “values” to your kids. This script removes uncertainty—you don’t have to question your choices because the path has already been laid out. This is a pretested prescription, and the reward for following it is a predictable lifestyle and a support system. Deviating from this plan, on the other hand, is intimidating. The road is unmarked, often lonely, and rarely comes with guidance. I have personally felt lost at times, with no example to follow or mentor to seek advice from. Even in parenting, there was no clear model for me to adopt. As parents, Reena and I carved out our own approach, with many mistakes along the way, and our children shared that uncertainty. Still, I hope that through this process, they learned something more valuable than what a conventional path could provide.
In the end, comfort in commonality comes with undeniable benefits—stability, security, and belonging. But there is another way. It may not offer the same perks, and it may come with rejection and risk, but it leads to a life that feels authentic rather than scripted. Choosing this path often requires rejecting the expectations around careers, family timelines, or rituals you never believed in. It demands courage to create your own roadmap, at your own pace, guided not by others’ approval but by your own convictions. It is a harder choice, but it is still a choice. And for some of us, it is the only choice worth making.
Thank you for reading, and please share your views on this topic.
© Vinay Thakur, All rights reserved. Vinay can be reached at thevinay2022@gmail.com
