Thriver’s Guilt: Naming the Discomfort of Privilege in Restorative Justice Work
Privilege is a complicated thing. For those of us who engage in restorative justice work, racial equity, or any form of systemic change, recognizing our own privilege can bring an unexpected emotional weight. It’s not just about acknowledging disparities—it’s about feeling them in a way that unsettles us. This feeling, which I’m calling thriver’s guilt, is something I’ve experienced personally, and I believe naming it can help us process it in a way that leads to real, meaningful action.
What is Thriver’s Guilt?
Thriver’s guilt arises from the realization that we have access, power, or security that others do not. It’s the discomfort of knowing that we benefit from systems that have historically excluded, and intentionally caused harm to, others. It’s the internal tension that comes when we recognize that our opportunities weren’t entirely self-made, and that others—equally deserving—have been denied those same opportunities.
This guilt can show up in different ways:
Feeling the need to overcompensate—working tirelessly to “prove” we deserve our position or that we’re using our privilege “correctly.”
Struggling to take up space—downplaying our voice or withdrawing from leadership roles out of fear of reinforcing inequity.
Engaging in performative allyship—making sure others see our commitment rather than focusing on real, sustained change.
Experiencing imposter syndrome—questioning whether we have the right to be in certain spaces at all.
My Personal Experience
When I first stepped into restorative justice work, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for the privileges I held—cultural security, access to influential spaces, and the way my presence in those spaces was often met with undue affirmation because of my gender, faith, or ethnicity. I couldn’t ignore how easily doors opened for me while others had to fight just to be heard.
Over time, I also began to recognize that some of these privileges weren’t just the result of neutral systems—they were being extended to me through systems of exclusion and injustice. It wasn’t just that I had access—it was that others were actively being denied it. That realization was sobering. I had to confront moments when I was being offered unearned credibility, trust, or opportunity at the direct expense of others. And I had to make a conscious choice: to avoid passively benefiting from these dynamics and instead disrupt them, even when it cost me comfort or advantage. Sometimes that looked like naming inequity in a room where no one else would, advocating for someone else's leadership instead of stepping into a role myself, or declining opportunities that came at the expense of community trust.
That guilt didn’t just sit quietly—it shaped how I showed up. I found myself constantly trying to prove that I was “on the right side” of the fight for justice. I took on more than I could handle, hoping that effort might justify my place. I hesitated to advocate for my needs, unsure if doing so would make me seem self-centered or unaware. And sometimes, I made choices rooted more in guilt than in wisdom—decisions driven by pressure rather than discernment.
But guilt wasn’t the answer—responsibility was. Guilt isolated me and made the work about me. Responsibility, on the other hand, invited me to show up with integrity, to listen better, and to leverage what I had without shame or fear. It’s a shift I’m still learning, but one that has made all the difference.
Moving Beyond Guilt Toward Responsibility
Thriver’s guilt can be paralyzing if we let it, but it can also be transformed into something useful. Instead of guilt driving our actions, we need to reframe our privilege as a tool for equity rather than a burden to carry. Here’s how:
Name and Recognize Privilege Without Dismissing It – Acknowledging privilege isn’t about shame; it’s about honesty. Ignoring it dishonors the experiences of those who don’t have the same access, and recognizing it allows us to engage in justice work with integrity.
Listen and Learn with Humility – Instead of trying to prove our worth, we should commit to lifelong learning and being guided by those most affected by injustice.
Use Privilege Strategically – Privilege isn’t inherently bad—it’s how we use it that matters. We should leverage access, resources, and influence in ways that amplify marginalized voices, not center ourselves.
Recognize When to Step Up and When to Step Back – Some spaces need our advocacy, while others require us to listen and make room for others to lead.
Build Relationships, Not Just Movements – Guilt often creates a transactional mindset—but restorative justice is built on relationships. When we lead from guilt, we’re often trying to repay a debt we feel we owe. That can lead to burnout, performative allyship, or a sense of never doing enough. But friendship offers something entirely different.
Friendship doesn’t erase the guilt , but it reshapes how we carry it. When we walk in true, mutual relationship with others, guilt loses its grip. We’re no longer acting out of pity or pressure—we're acting out of love, loyalty, and shared humanity. Friendship grounds us. It reminds us that justice isn’t something we do to others—it’s something we build with them.
This kind of relationship asks more of us, not less. It calls us to show up consistently, to listen deeply, to allow ourselves to be changed. But it also frees us from the exhausting need to prove our worth. It replaces the question “How do I prove I’m a good person?” with “How do I be a good friend?”
Movements may mobilize people, but relationships sustain them. When we choose friendship over performance, we create space for healing, trust, and transformation—for ourselves and for those we walk alongside.
Embracing Discomfort as Part of Growth
Thriver’s guilt isn’t something to be erased—it’s something to be acknowledged and worked through. Discomfort is part of growth, and it’s okay to wrestle with these feelings. What matters is that we don’t let guilt lead us into performative or self-destructive actions. Instead, we should channel it into deeper accountability, authentic relationships, and sustainable change.
If you’ve felt this tension in your own journey, you’re not alone. Let’s name it, process it, and use it to fuel the work ahead.