The Great Safe Space Cancellation Showdown:
Back in the Sanctum—which now boasted a very exclusive VIP section for “emotionally gifted” patrons—things were starting to get out of hand. The hipsters, utterly convinced that their moral high ground could no longer be ignored, had called an emergency meeting. The Sanctum was far too popular, and it was no longer pure. It had become trendy, and that, to them, was a cultural crime of the highest order.
One hipster, an influencer who identified as "Ethereal Queer", wore an oversized sweater with the slogan “It’s not about the individual, but the collective’s collective responsibility.” She scowled at the growing line outside. “They’re all just here to extract empathy! These aren’t real safe space seekers. They just want a filtered version of trauma. We need to cancel them, before they start charging for mindfulness workshops!”
A fellow hipster—his beanie expertly slung to one side—adjusted his large-frame glasses. “Absolutely. The marketisation of safe spaces is out of control! How dare they commodify pain? Pain is sacred. And we’re the guardians of its purity! If this place goes mainstream, we’re all complicit. Guilty of cultural appropriation of empathy.”
Another hipster, his hair in a man bun, raised his hand dramatically. "I thought we were the ones who invented the idea of shared emotional labour!" he exclaimed. "But look at them! They're monetising safe space therapy! This place is just a corporate scam wrapped in a blanket of emotional capital!" He shook his head with disgust, making sure to capture the expression on his phone for his next compassionate rage post.
Meanwhile, in the background, the Sanctum’s resident “emotionologist”—an individual whose sole job was to assess emotional purity before patrons could enter—was giving a talk to a small group of newcomers. “Before we begin our journey to inner wellness, let’s all affirm our willingness to shed any form of external judgment. Please take a seat on the sacred floor pillows, and remove all forms of external identity. No brands, no ideologies. Just pure emotional vulnerability.”
One of the hipsters sneered from his corner. “This is exactly what I mean. Sacred pillows? It’s just a marketing ploy to sell us ‘emotional purity’ under the guise of ‘wellness.’ What’s next, a line of pillows endorsed by Oprah? This is literally what happens when corporations take over trauma!”
Ethereal Queer crossed her arms, her finger tapping impatiently. “It’s authenticity we’re after! Not this fake wellness culture that’s co-opted our trauma. We need to send a clear message. We’ll cancel this institution and the emotional consultants who enable it. Let’s take back control of our trauma!”
She stormed up to the front, ready to make the final decree.
“Let’s cancel this place before it becomes as problematic as yoga with no cultural sensitivity!” she declared, her voice shaking with self-righteous fury. "I bet they've got yoga classes where they play Enya on repeat! Do you know how triggering that is?"
At this, the Sanctum’s owner—a soft-spoken man wearing a hoodie with the phrase “I Cancelled Myself for You”—approached, arms wide open. “Ah, my dear patrons! Welcome. I see you're here to... expand the boundaries of safe space. How may I serve you today?”
Ethereal Queer pointed dramatically. “Your business is inherently exploitative! You’ve monetised suffering, commodified trauma, and now you’re peddling it as ‘self-care’—and I’m done.”
A brief silence fell over the room. The owner blinked, almost too surprised to respond. “But... I created this space so people could feel safe... express their emotions... and... and, find peace?”
Ethereal Queer shook her head violently. “You’ve commercialised feeling safe. You’ve turned trauma into a commodity. How do you sleep at night knowing that you’ve sold out your own community?”
The owner was about to respond when a sudden loud pop echoed throughout the room. Someone in the corner had let out an accidental laugh.
“Laughing?!” another hipster shrieked, clapping a hand over their mouth. “You did not just laugh in a safe space. This place is supposed to be a haven, not a trigger for our oppression!” They rushed forward, clutching a “Cultural Sensitivity Feedback Card” to deliver the ultimate critique.
Ethereal Queer turned her gaze to the ceiling. “It’s not enough that they’ve commodified trauma—they’re also perpetuating a laughing epidemic in this sacred space. This isn’t a space for joy. This is a space for emotional integrity.”
She snapped her fingers, and the entire group of hipsters nodded in approval. "We cancel this space!" they all yelled, as though partaking in a spiritual awakening of the highest degree.
As they stormed out of the Sanctum, the owner simply sighed and went back to sipping his oat milk latte, now completely aware that his multi-million-dollar “emotional wellness empire” had been definitively cancelled.
