When the critics don't know your story, here's how to rise above

Criticism lands harder when it comes from people who have never walked a single step in your shoes. A passing remark in a group chat, a sideways comment from a colleague who joined last quarter, or a stranger's opinion online can feel less like feedback and more like a verdict. The sting comes not so much from the words themselves but from knowing that the person delivering them has no real picture of your history, your sacrifices, or the quiet battles you have already won.

Learning how to respond to criticism from people who don't know your story is less about winning an argument and more about protecting your peace. It is a skill anyone navigating a public life, a career pivot, or a personal reinvention eventually needs. Over more than two decades of broadcasting, writing, and speaking across the UK and Australia, I have learned that the right response usually starts long before you open your mouth.

Recognise what the criticism actually is

The first step is to slow down and name the comment for what it really is. Outright cruelty, a misplaced joke, a passing projection, or genuine concern from someone with the wrong information will each need a different answer. When a colleague on a Sydney trading floor makes a sharp remark about your "side hustle", that may be envy dressed as sarcasm. When a relative in Perth questions why you have taken a new direction at your age, that may be worry wrapped in old-fashioned bluntness. The same sentence can carry completely different weight depending on what is underneath it.

Tone matters as much as the words themselves. Pay attention to whether the criticism arrived in private, with care, or in public with a snigger attached. A quiet word over coffee in Brisbane usually deserves a considered reply. A snarky tag on Instagram from a stranger rarely does. Reading the channel as well as the content helps you decide whether the speaker is offering a mirror or simply venting their own afternoon.

Australians often use the phrase "fair go" to describe a sense of reasonable treatment. You are allowed to extend that same decency to yourself. Before you respond, ask whether the criticism passes a basic test of being fair, informed, and offered with some goodwill. If it fails any one of those three, you already have your answer about whether a response is worth your energy in the first place.

Pause before you respond

Emotion runs hot in the moment, and wise words rarely come out of a reactive head. Give yourself permission to wait, even if only for an afternoon, before firing off a reply. A pause is not weakness; it is strategy. In Melbourne's fast-paced media scene, I have watched plenty of capable professionals undo good work because they could not bear the thirty-second silence that wiser heads would have honoured.

That breathing space lets you notice patterns that are invisible in the heat of the moment. Is this the first comment of its kind, or the tenth version of the same theme from different mouths? If strangers keep telling you that you are "too much" or that you have "changed", that usually says more about their idea of who you should be than about who you really are. Critical voices form a chorus when they sense a shift in you, and learning to spot the melody beneath the noise is half the battle won.

Put the comment somewhere you can see it tomorrow morning. Sleep on it. Walk along St Kilda beach or through the Royal Botanic Gardens before replying. Almost every heated response I have ever drafted in real time read very differently after a long evening with people I trust, and most of them were better left in the notes app.

Separate your identity from their opinion

Years of live television taught me one thing very clearly: the camera does not define the woman. Equally, a stranger's comment, however public, does not define your worth. Their opinion is built from their own upbringing, their own disappointments, and their own shorthand. Treating their words as a complete verdict on you hands them a power they have not earned and never will.

Try an exercise I use before big events or tricky interviews. Write down three concrete things you know to be true about your own story. Not the polished brochure version with the rough edges sanded down, but the version with the scars and the lessons still showing. When the noise gets loud, return to those three lines. They become a kind of compass, and suddenly the criticism feels like weather passing overhead rather than a forecast for the rest of your life.

This kind of detachment is harder than it sounds, especially in a culture where women are still judged for choices as ordinary as taking a sabbatical, launching a small business, or leaving a stale marriage. Australian workplaces, particularly in corporate Melbourne and Sydney, can be quick to label anyone stepping off the expected path as unfocused or "all over the place". Recognise the label for what it really is. It is their discomfort, not your failure.

Choose how and whether to engage

Response is a choice, not an obligation. Sometimes the most powerful answer is a dignified silence that gives the comment no oxygen at all. Sometimes the right move is a calm, short reply that shows you heard them but will not be drawn into a row. The trick is matching the response to the relationship and the stakes, not to the volume of the criticism itself.

For a fleeting acquaintance, an anonymous commenter, or a troll, a private deletion or a graceful "thanks for sharing" often works far better than a forensic defence. For people who actually matter to you, a longer conversation may be worth the emotional cost. Ask what they observed, what they feared, and what they would do in your position. Often the people who hurt us most had no idea they had done so until we explained the impact in their own language, and most of them will adjust once they understand the picture they were missing.

Public figures face a particular pressure here. The 24-hour news cycle, social pile-ons, and a hungry commentariat can make any response look like a story in itself. That is one reason I have curated a single hub for official site enquiries, where context lives rather than gossip. You do not have to explain yourself to every passing audience, but you do get to choose the few places where your story is told with care.

Build your own narrative with confidence

The most underrated response to outside criticism is the slow, steady work of building a story so clear that other versions lose their grip. When you know where you are heading and why, offhand remarks lose much of their sting. They become background chatter rather than a referendum on your worth, and you can let them pass without needing to score points.

Visibility helps, but only if it is anchored in substance. Speak at industry rooms in Adelaide, write the chapter you keep meaning to write, take on the project that scares you a little. Each small, deliberate step adds weight to your own story and dilutes the power of others to define you. Midlife in particular is a powerful season for this kind of rebuilding, which is why I have written about the value of mentorship in midlife for those stepping into a second chapter. The right guide can cut years off the learning curve and stop you internalising every passing opinion as gospel.

Joy, too, is part of the armour. Critics cannot touch the quiet satisfaction of a Tuesday morning coffee, a walk through a leafy park, or ordinary moments at work that feel like yours alone. When you tend to those with care, the noise from outside shrinks to its real size, and your own story becomes the loudest voice in the room.