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Disgust often gets a bad reputation as the “ew” emotion—the one that kicks in when we encounter something gross or unpleasant. Disgust is a boundary-setter. It’s a powerful, evolutionary emotion that helps us protect ourselves—both physically and emotionally. 🚧
At its most primal level, disgust exists to safeguard us from harm. Think about the feeling you get when you smell spoiled food or see something rotting. Your brain is sounding the alarm: “Stay away! This is dangerous!” But disgust isn’t limited to physical threats. Over time, it’s evolved to help us set boundaries in other areas of life too.
A fascinating historical example of disgust’s protective role can be found in the practices of Plains Cree medicine men and women. These healers were responsible for testing plants to discover their medicinal properties, often experimenting with various methods of preparation and application.
Disgust acted as a critical survival tool during this process. If a plant tasted bitter, smelled off, or caused an immediate adverse reaction, it signaled potential danger. This instinctive response helped them identify harmful substances and refine their methods, ensuring the safety of their communities.
Over generations, this careful balance of trial, error, and boundary-setting led to the development of a rich tradition of plant-based medicine that continues to be respected today. Mind you, based on personal experience, rat root still manages to be disgustingly bitter even if it’s effective. Blagh! Some boundaries are worth testing…others, you just tolerate because they work. 😖
For neurodiverse individuals, the experience of disgust can be especially nuanced. Take someone with ASD, for example. Disgust might arise more frequently in response to sensory overload—a texture, smell, or sound that feels overwhelming.
Imagine putting on a sweater, only to find the fabric feels scratchy and unbearable against your skin. It’s not just discomfort; it’s a visceral “no.”
Clothing tags and seams are a classic example of this reaction. Ever wondered why you see shirts flipped inside out? It’s because these tiny irritations can feel like sensory ambushes. For me, socks are the culprit—I can’t stand the seams.
Luckily, I found a creative workaround thanks to my leatherworking skills: moccasins. Whether I’m inside, outside, trudging through snow that winter buried everything in overnight, or just trying to escape its icy ambush altogether, moccasins save the day. Socks? No thanks. Seams? Not today, sensory overload! 🦬
One of the fascinating aspects of disgust is its ability to unify and divide. As an evolutionary tool, it helped early humans band together against common threats. Shared feelings of disgust—whether toward a toxic food source or harmful behavior—strengthened group cohesion.
But this same mechanism can create exclusion, especially when disgust is directed at people or cultures that are different. Recognizing this duality is key to understanding how disgust shapes not only our personal boundaries but also our societal norms.
Personally, I’ve seen disgust unite people in unexpected ways. Once, I was first on the scene of a motor home tipped over on a busy highway. The driver at fault had been speeding and weaving in and out of traffic before recklessly cutting the motor home off, causing it to tip over.
To make matters worse, they kept driving, showing no concern for the catastrophe they caused. As the first responder, I took command of the situation. Highways are typically places where people drive by accidents without stopping (and by the way, knock that one off), but this time was different.
The number of times I heard disgusted comments at the driver’s careless behavior—especially grateful for this after the realization that the fuel line was severed— had pulled more help than I needed. I had 20 people stop from both directions, parked haphazardly but determined to help.
That disgusted outrage grew even louder when we discovered there was an infant in the motor home. Thankfully, the baby was completely unharmed, safely strapped in the car seat.
However, I’ll never forget that moment of terror, nor the relief when I was boosted back up by three people to reach the child. That day, I was grateful I always carry a knife for emergencies—and now, I have a seatbelt cutter as well. Disgust saved lives that day. It brought people together in a way so rarely seen anymore, creating a collective response that ensured the safety of everyone involved. 🫶
Disgust also plays a role in emotional boundaries, particularly for those navigating trauma. For someone with CPTSD, certain situations or interactions might elicit feelings of disgust tied to past experiences.
It’s not just random—it’s your brain’s way of saying, “This feels unsafe. Back away.” Recognizing these moments can be incredibly empowering. For allistic individuals, disgust might show up in social contexts—like the cringe-inducing reaction to witnessing someone behave unethically or disrespectfully.
That uncomfortable feeling isn’t just moral outrage; it’s disgust helping to establish a social boundary. 🚦 Disgust reinforces what feels acceptable and what doesn’t, guiding our interactions and helping us navigate relationships.
Learning to interpret disgust can be transformative. Instead of enduring it, we can see it as a guide—a signal to pay attention to what feels wrong or unsafe. For some, it might mean listening to their body’s reaction to an environment.
For others, it’s recognizing when a boundary has been crossed. Ultimately, disgust is a reminder that boundaries aren’t just something we set for others—they’re something we honor within ourselves. It’s an emotion that teaches us to protect, prioritize, and care for ourselves in deeply personal and universally human ways.
Let’s hear from you! When has disgust helped you set a boundary, whether physical, social, or emotional? Maybe it revealed something about your needs, your limits, or your growth. Share your story in the comments—every experience adds to our understanding of this fascinating emotion.
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I would love to hear from you!