I Hate Creatives

I hate creatives.

Not because they create — but because they’ve turned creativity into a performance, a label, a badge of honor that demands applause just for existing. Somewhere along the way, being a “creative” stopped being about the work and started being about the identity—an identity that often shouts louder than the art itself. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen creativity turned into a commodified product rather than a shared experience. And that’s something I can’t stand. But I’m not saying creativity itself is the problem. It’s how some people have weaponized it. It’s how they’ve twisted it into a status symbol.

I love to define things before diving in, so there’s no confusion. With that being said let’s break this down. A creative is typically defined as someone who uses imagination and originality to produce something new, whether in art, writing, design, business, or other fields. However, the term is often used more narrowly to describe those in artistic professions, overlooking that creativity exists in all disciplines. Being creative isn’t just about making things—it’s about thinking in innovative ways, challenging norms, and approaching problems with fresh perspectives.

Creatives. The self-proclaimed visionaries of the world. The ones who thrive on “aesthetic,” live for “expression,” and somehow believe they’re just built different from everyone else. And I can’t help but chuckle every time I see the word slapped in an Instagram bio. Maybe I’m being a hater, but hear me out—I don’t hate creativity itself. Creativity is essential. It fuels progress, storytelling, and innovation. But somewhere along the way, some people forgot what creativity was really about. It's become more about being a creative than about doing something creative.

More Than a Label

I remember after officially launching my literary blog, a friend said to me, “Welcome to the life of a creative." The phrase struck me as odd—I’ve been a ‘creative’ my entire life. The only difference now is that I’ve chosen to share this part of myself publicly because it felt right. But that moment made me realize how easily people get labeled as just one thing.

We’re often placed into neat little boxes—artist or analyst, dreamer or doer, logical or emotional—as if we can only exist within a single definition. But people are far more complex than that. We are layered, multifaceted, capable of embodying many things at once. I’ve always been a creative, but I’m also a thinker, a strategist, a storyteller. The problem isn’t creativity itself; it’s the way people treat it as an exclusive club—as if only a certain type of person can belong.

The reality? Creativity isn’t confined to one personality type or industry. A scientist experimenting in a lab, a teacher designing a lesson plan, a businessperson finding innovative solutions—they’re all creative in their own ways. Creativity is not a status symbol. It’s a mindset. A way of thinking. A way of seeing the world differently. And that doesn't fit into a single label.

Is This a Safe Space Really?

To put it bluntly, creatives can be some of the most self-absorbed, judgmental, and non-community-oriented people I’ve ever met (please don't take me too seriously, guys). In some of the creative spaces I’ve been in, it always feels like there’s a little club you have to be “good enough” for—like you have to show up already at your best. There’s no room for error, no space for feedback, growth, or simply existing. It’s a space that doesn’t encourage learning but instead demands perfection from the very start. This creates a toxic atmosphere where people feel pressured to perform rather than express, to impress rather than explore. For a group of people who always talk about how vulnerable it is to share their artistry, you’d think they’d be more welcoming. More understanding. More kind. But instead, it often feels like an exclusive club—one where, if you’re not already at a certain level, you’re shut out. It makes me wonder if there’s an unwritten rule that says only the “perfect” creatives are worthy of belonging. Maybe I just happened to be in the wrong spaces, but it’s hard not to feel disheartened when creativity—something meant to bring people together—becomes a competition for status rather than a celebration of individuality and growth.

I get it—sometimes, creatives need to be in spaces with other creatives. I like to call it being in a jury of your peers. There’s something invaluable about surrounding yourself with people who understand the intricacies of your craft, who can challenge you, push you, and speak the same artistic language. Iron sharpens iron, and being in a space with like-minded individuals can fuel growth in ways that outsiders might not fully grasp.

Not every space has to be open to everyone, and that’s okay. There’s a reason why musicians have jam sessions, why writers form critique groups, why visual artists have collectives—it’s about honing the craft, exchanging ideas, and engaging in a deeper level of discourse that wouldn’t happen otherwise.

But there’s a fine line between cultivating a space for creative excellence and shutting people out for the sake of exclusivity. When the focus shifts from collaboration to gatekeeping, from growth to status, that’s when creativity starts feeling more like a clique than a community. A jury of your peers should be about elevation, not isolation. There’s room for spaces where creatives can refine their work, but that doesn’t mean creativity itself should be treated like a members-only club.

Creativity Should Bring People Together (Not Gatekeep Itself)

What does creativity mean to you? What's your 'why'? Unpack that.

At its core, creativity is about expression, connection, and discovery. It’s not an exclusive club, nor should it be something reserved only for those who make a career out of it. True creativity is meant to be shared—it thrives when it’s accessible, collaborative, and open to all.

Take artists like Jacob Collier, for example. His approach to music isn’t just about showcasing his own talent—it’s about inviting others into the experience. He often brings his audience into the creative process, encouraging them to harmonize and contribute to the sound. And guess what? Not everyone in that audience is a trained musician. They don’t have years of theory or professional experience, but that doesn’t matter. In that moment, they’re not just passive listeners; they’re active participants in something bigger than themselves.

That’s what creativity should be—a space where people can engage, explore, and contribute, no matter their skill level. It shouldn’t be about gatekeeping or creating artificial barriers to entry. The best artists, the most impactful creatives, aren’t the ones who hoard their craft like a secret—they’re the ones who share it freely, who uplift others, and who understand that creativity isn’t about status, but about connection.

Creativity isn’t just something to be observed from afar—it’s something to be experienced, together. And that’s the kind of creative energy we should all aspire to.

The Copy Cat Culture

The tension between innovation and curation has become more apparent in the modern creative landscape, especially in music. In the past, artists were pioneers, pushing sonic boundaries and creating new genres, movements, and cultural waves. Today, the industry feels more like a machine of refinement, where creatives aren’t necessarily inventing, but rather remixing and repacking the past in new, palatable ways. Are creatives truly innovating, or are they just better at curating?

As someone who genuinely loves music and has a hobby of exploring its history, especially as it relates to Black culture—I can see this pattern clearly. Black music has always been at the forefront of true innovation. From the birth of jazz in the early 20th century to the golden age of hip-hop, the genre-defining artists of each era didn’t just tweak existing formulas—they created new ones. Miles Davis didn’t just play jazz—he reinvented it. James Brown didn’t just make hits—he invented the rhythmic backbone of hip-hop. Early hip-hop wasn’t about fitting into an algorithm; it was raw, unpredictable, and urgent. Creativity used to be raw—something you did because you had to, not because you wanted to be seen doing it. Now, it’s curated, calculated, and commodified. The “creative” isn’t just someone who makes things—it’s someone who’s mastered the art of making things.

So, are today’s creatives truly innovative, or are they just skilled at curating? Has the demand for commercial success made it riskier to take true artistic leaps? I always say the authenticity can ALWAYS be felt. People can smell BS, ‘creative’ or not. Maybe that’s why we keep looking backward—because we know that what came before was real.

All That to Say

So, here’s the deal: I may hate how some people treat creativity like a performance or a status symbol, but I’ll never hate the true essence of it. Creativity is meant to be messy, unfiltered, and, most importantly, shared. It’s about connection, expression, and discovery—not about flexing or gatekeeping. So, to all the creatives out there: keep doing your thing, but don’t forget why you started in the first place. Because at the end of the day, creativity is meant to bring us together—not put us in a box.