The ‘Spiritual Bros’ complex

(Babe, your higher self just rolled her eyes so hard she sprained something)

You know the ones…

They’re on the beach at sunrise or sunset, shirt half unbuttoned like it’s a spiritual offering to the Gods; or at the yoga retreat hovering too close, “assisting” women into poses with hands that wander into places they don’t belong with adjustments that scream more erotica than Asana.

They’re in the café, ordering a matcha latte at a decibel that makes sure everyone in the room hears the words “frequency upgrade.”

They’re wearing beads like a trophy that probably cost more than your car rego, though they’ll swear they were ‘gifted’ by an elder in their last sacred ceremony.

They’ll happily tell you they’re “just back from retreat,” where they “went deep into the medicine” (which often translates into: I spent three weeks doing shirtless yoga selfies in rice fields and called it integration).

Oh & let’s not forget the here for you babe vibes.

You know… to “awaken your goddess energy” & “activate your divine feminine.”

Which, spoiler alert, in some seedy circles will translate to: he wants to take you on a mind altering ‘journey’ that promises to transform you at your core, while quietly strategising how to get you into bed in a yurt.

Commitment? Oh no, babe — that’s way too 3D. 

He’s into “sacred union philosophy,” a spiritual mask for non committal avoidance dressed up as enlightenment.

It’s not divine partnership.

It’s curated content with curated partners.

Everything filtered, everything OTT branded, everything sculpted to look sacred, while avoiding the messy reality of actual intimacy.

(Real intimacy doesn’t need a hashtag. It’s not curated. It’s raw, it’s awkward, it’s sometimes boring as hell and that’s why it’s real.)

I remember when I first started putting myself out there on social media, sharing my spirituality, my shadow work and things I was going through at the time.

One dude slid into my DMs and honestly, at first, I thought it was spam because of the way it was worded. 

Typical, high vibe “I stumbled across your feed” energy, talking about how he could see my aura and feel my frequency and had to reach out to “assist me in awakening my inner goddess” or some similar fuckery.

I clicked into his profile and everything I’ve just described? It was there in living color. 

Curated to the point where you wondered if the photos were photoshopped (this was pre-AI mind you). 

Testimonials? Sure. 

Substance? Zero. 

Cookie cutter spirituality masquerading as enlightenment. 

I knew immediately that the old me, the people pleaser me, still soft in my boundaries & willing to trust every one, probably would have gotten sucked in.

That’s the thing about these guys in the online space: they know how to package everything, sell the aesthetic and create an illusion. 

If you don’t know the signs, it’s easy to believe them. 

The six camera setup, the perfectly staged reels, every word and pose curated to scream “authentically me in the wild” — it’s all a performance.

Because a genuine healer doesn’t need to slide into your DMs, narrate their virtues, or stage their life online to prove their worth.

The real ones don’t audition for divinity.

The real ones, will show you real life!

How to Spot a Spiritual Bro in the Wild

• Instagram tells all:

Every line dripping with embodied masculine king energy, tantric alchemy, light codes, awakening goddesses, etc. 

If it reads like a self help word generator, you’ve got a front row ticket. Enjoy the show!

• Photographer always in tow:

There’s a tripod or  multiple hired lens’ at every so called “me at home, private ceremony.” 

Nothing says sacred like perfectly staged snapshots of what is supposed to be their ‘real time’ transformation.

• Space holder = space hog:

Refers to himself as a “space holder” but dominates every conversation, every moment, every corner of the room. 

Think Dyson meets ego, sucking up all the energy, leaving nothing for anyone else.

• Uses “babe” like punctuation:

Every sentence has a sprinkle of babe. 

It’s supposed to feel intimate. 

It isn’t. It’s pure performance ick.

• Smells like a vibe:

Imagine a faint mix of palo santo, sandalwood, and an over-processed aura that curates into an, “I’m mystical but marketable” energy you can almost sniff. You’ll feel it before you even see it or hear him talk.

• Everything’s curated, nothing real:

Smoothly curated outfits, curated locations, curated social posts, curated partners. 

The real life moments? Missing. 

Unscripted laughter, frustration, compromise, quiet integrity? Not on the feed, not in the ceremony, barely glimpsed at all.

• Buzzword bingo:

Drops phrases like frequency upgrade, shadow work, ascension, divine union in ways that feel rehearsed, not from lived experience. 

If it feels like a line from a spiritual sales script, it probably is.

• Performs enlightenment:

He’s “awakening” in photos, captions, and stories, but rarely in actual presence. 

Real spirituality? Invisible. Raw. Unpolished. 

He’s pretending.

Why It Matters

Because when people are hurting & searching for something bigger than themselves to help them through whatever hell their life has cracked open to at that moment; the last thing they need is a smooth talking “guru” selling enlightenment packages in three easy payments of $2,222.

This isn’t harmless quirkiness.

It’s exploitation disguised as medicine.

Spiritual performance, dressed up in aesthetics, ring lights and a money making only business plan.

The spiritual bro complex isn’t built on wisdom.

It’s built on curated content and curated lifestyles; every breath is calculated, every story fully edited and every move staged.

They preach about shadow work, but you’ll never see them in their own depths of it.

They shout authenticity, yet curate every moment for Instagram.

They promise sacred union, but their work doesn’t exist in reality, it’s all projection and performance.

When someone is fresh out of the chaos of their own life, desperate for direction, the last thing they need is a polished avatar of spirituality selling them a look, a lifestyle and a hefty price tag while delivering nothing of substance.

This isn’t just annoying. It’s dangerous.

They know how to make spiritual bypassing look & sound good.

They know how to package their lack of real work into words that seem wise and if you don’t know any better, it’s easy to get sucked in.

For those of us who’ve been through hell, continue embracing the shadow work, spiralling down and clawing our way back up, it’s infuriating.

Because we know the difference between real transformation and curated bullshit.

We know the heartbreak of being offered the latter, dressed as the former.

Real life isn’t polished or staged.

Real intimacy isn’t curated for the feed.

It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. It’s arguing, crying, choosing someone or something when it’s hard and showing up even when no one is watching.

Because spirituality is not an aesthetic.

It’s not all linen shirts, beads, retreat reels, or any other curated “look” designed to make you believe enlightenment comes with a filter.

Real spirituality is often quiet & unsexy.

It’s often tracksuit pants or pajamas, screaming your tears into the void, while holding your shit together when no one else is there for you.

As a facilitator, I wear a uniform in ceremony, something comfortable that helps me hold space and move with ease.

I might do brand shoots to show the medicine I offer, to help people connect with my work. 

But the difference is; that’s for visibility, not for a performance.

The spiritual bro? 

Every outfit, every photo, every post is all about their show.

Their “look” is meant to convince you that their aesthetic equals pure enlightenment (what is that even meant to look like?!)

Ceremony becomes content and content becomes authority, while the messy, unglamorous reality of life is still nowhere to be seen.

The truth is, you can be a spiritual being wrestling with life’s hardest battles, wearing whatever you want, holding space, facilitating, guiding, transforming lives and none of it needs a curated persona.

Genuine spirituality is felt through connection.

My Final Word

This is not about hating on anyone who is genuinely doing the work.

It is not about throwing shade at dress codes or symbolism that carries real significance.

It’s about calling out the entire persona built on commercialism and consumerism, the one that turns sacred practices into a funnel for cash, clout and occasionally the ones in it for a makeshift dating strategy.

The spiritual bro complex isn’t harmless.

It sells the illusion of awakening while leaving the seeker empty handed, bewildered and often more wounded than before.

It’s packaged spirituality with a glossy Instagram filter and a side of performative somewhat toxic masculinity.

So the next time one of them sidles up and whispers, “Babe, I’m feeling into your frequency…”, remember: your higher self isn’t swooning. She’s sitting in the corner, arms crossed, muttering, “Fuck off mate, I see you.”

Because real spirituality doesn’t need a whisper, a pose, or a price tag.

It doesn’t need to perform, market, or seduce. 

Real spirituality shows up quietly, recklessly, vulnerably and it doesn’t give a damn if anyone’s watching.

So laugh, roll your eyes, but stay grounded. 

Know the difference between the curated costume and the work that actually matters. 

Look beneath the persona selling ‘awakening’ and seek the messy, unpolished, sweat and tears kind of real transformational experiences.

Because only one of them will hold your growth with integrity and only one will honour the space you carry within yourself.