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It started with bean soup.
A young woman on TikTok shared a simple video of herself making bean soup in her kitchen. Nothing dramatic, nothing controversial — just beans, broth and seasoning simmering in a pot. But her comment section erupted into outrage. Not outrage about food safety or waste, but outrage that she dared make bean soup when some viewers “don’t like beans.”
This wasn’t satire. People were genuinely offended that another human being cooked a dish they personally wouldn’t enjoy.
That viral bean soup post has since become shorthand for an ugly cultural trend: the inability to separate personal preference from someone else’s harmless choice. Call it “whatabout-me-ism.” If something doesn’t directly benefit me, if I don’t immediately relate to it, if I can’t consume it or profit from it, then it must be dismissed, attacked or ignored.
We see it online every day. But the damage goes well beyond social media.
Take community outreach programs. In small towns and big cities alike, volunteer groups depend on neighbors showing up to serve others. Yet I’ve seen people quit initiatives because they didn’t see personal payoff. One former volunteer told me bluntly, “It didn’t really help my business, so what’s the point?” That attitude, multiplied across a community, hollows out the very foundation of service.
Civic life only works when we believe in something larger than ourselves. When every decision is filtered through the lens of “what’s in it for me?” the result is apathy, disengagement and, eventually, collapse.
The bean soup example may sound silly, but it illustrates something serious: the erosion of empathy. If I can’t watch a 30-second video of a stranger making dinner without demanding that it cater to me, how can I be expected to care about the struggles of a family across town?
Communities aren’t built on constant selfreflection. They’re built on the opposite: the willingness to put yourself second. Parents coach youth teams not because they’ll make money from it, but because kids need guidance. Neighbors donate to food drives not because they’ll get the food back, but because someone else is hungry. People show up at blood drives, animal shelters and town clean-up days not for a return on investment, but because the act of showing up matters.
“What-about-me-ism” corrodes that ethic. It convinces people that their time is only worthwhile if there’s a tangible reward. It recasts generosity as a transaction. And once generosity is transactional, it isn’t generosity at all.
We should be alarmed. Volunteerism rates are already declining nationwide, according to multiple studies. Nonprofits are struggling to find consistent help. Local governments are stretched thin. And the work that keeps a community strong — coaching, mentoring, cleaning, fundraising — can’t be automated or outsourced. It depends on people deciding that serving others is reason enough.
Of course, we all have limits. Burnout is real, and no one can say yes to every request. But there’s a difference between saying “I’m overwhelmed” and saying “this doesn’t benefit me, so I’m out.” The first acknowledges human boundaries. The second signals disinterest in the common good.
What can we do about it? First, we can call it out when we see it. Not with hostility, but with a reminder: community is not a commodity. Second, we can celebrate examples of selflessness. Highlight the coach who stays late after practice, the retiree who reads to kids at the library, the teenager who organizes a fundraiser not for a resume line, but because it matters.
And finally, we can practice the radical act of caring about things that don’t directly involve us. Read about a neighbor’s success and cheer for them. Support a cause that doesn’t touch your life. Watch someone make bean soup without typing, “Well I don’t like beans.”
Our society doesn’t suffer from a shortage of resources or creativity. It suffers from a shortage of perspective. We are all better off when we care about more than ourselves.
Because in the end, communities aren’t sustained by individual taste buds or profit margins. They’re sustained by people willing to serve without asking, “But what about me?” Be kind to your neighbors Be kind to your pets Be active in your community