Grey rocking — keeping interactions flat, neutral, and drama-free — is a survival strategy in toxic environments. It works well when the goal is to starve manipulators of the emotional reactions they crave. But what happens when you’re invited into the very circle that’s been excluding you? What happens when “kindness” is performative, not genuine?
Recently, I had that experience.
For months, I’d noticed how my coworkers — led by someone I’ll call Negative Nag — excluded me from their lunch gatherings. Plans were made openly, but I was never invited. When the “Lunch Lady” went around asking everyone what they wanted, she skipped me altogether. It wasn’t forgetfulness; it was intentional.
Then came a surprise. The so-called “flying monkey” — someone who usually aligns with the group — suddenly invited me to lunch. She seemed sincere, almost pleading for me to come along. I went, curious about what would unfold.
When I arrived, Negative Nag looked shocked. She forced a smile but immediately tried to block me from sitting near her. Her friend gave off that stiff discomfort of someone who wishes you weren’t there. Only the flying monkey seemed genuinely glad I had come.
Throughout the meal, I could feel the undercurrent: little digs, subtle devaluations, attempts to minimize my past professional accomplishments when someone I knew from my teaching and counseling career came by to say hello. But I held steady. I didn’t bite. And when I did contribute to the conversation, it wasn’t to defend myself but to highlight truths they couldn’t spin. That quiet strength shut down the negativity.
Afterwards, Negative Nag couldn’t resist trying to regain control. I overheard her comparing me to a narcissistic CEO client, her way of labeling me because my presence unsettles her. She wants me excluded so she can stay dominant in her circle.
Here’s what I realized:
- Grey rocking helped — I didn’t take the bait, didn’t let their digs find purchase.
- But grey rocking drained me — it’s exhausting to constantly mute yourself just to survive. I am naturally quiet, yes, but I’m also alive, intelligent, and worthy of expressing myself. Pretending to be a lifeless “grey rock” all the time isn’t sustainable.
That’s the paradox. Grey rock protects you in the moment, but living there permanently strips you of authenticity. And toxic groups exploit that. They’ll either attack your silence or twist your words, whichever they think gives them power.
So here’s my takeaway:
I don’t care if I’m ever invited again. I know I’m not the problem. I know the kindness from some of them is performative. And I know Negative Nag competes with me when I’m not even playing the game.
Grey rock when you must. But don’t lose your voice. Sometimes, expressing yourself calmly and truthfully is the strongest disruption you can bring to a toxic system — even if they don’t like it.
My Voice Unchained 