I’m sure you’ve heard the word “nonchalant” floating around — if not from TikTok, then at least from that one friend who swears they’re “too cool to care.” The term actually comes from the French word nonchaloir, meaning “to disregard.” For some reason, we’ve decided that it’s appealing to not care, to stay unbothered, to keep people guessing.

Sure, I get it. There’s something fun about being unreadable, about playing the character that everyone wants to figure out. Unfortunately, that is not me. I’m about as far from nonchalant as it gets, but I can always try.

That said, I do admire a few things about being nonchalant. Especially in awkward social situations, nonchalant people just shrug and keep going, while the rest of us stress or spiral. Personally, I am an “over-carer” — I care more than I’d like to admit. When I get ghosted, I’m the type to reread my last text a hundred times, convinced I ruined everything. Meanwhile, the nonchalant person? Probably letting it slide, already onto the next chat. 

Nonchalance sure does have its pros. Sometimes it works as a protective mechanism, you never really know how people will interpret you, so keeping it cool can feel safer than putting yourself out there. It can also be a way of keeping control instead of showing every reaction: you choose what people get to see. In a world where people prefer to be “on display,” that kind of composure can feel powerful. 

Roberta Garner, a DePaul sociology professor points out that nonchalance can help diffuse tension when people with clashing views come together. 

“When people in the group have very different views about something, it is better not to act too concerned about anything,” she said, recalling familiar scenes like a holiday dinner with extended family, where someone inevitably brings up a polarizing issue.  

“War in Vietnam, impeachment of a President, the death penalty, the trans kid on the golf team, whatever it is, better not argue about it because that spoils the festive occasion. Let’s just talk about the mushroom gravy,” Garner said. 

Sometimes it’s less about not caring and more about keeping the peace. But that’s different from an IDGAF mentality. The IDGAF mindset is a philosophy: rejecting other people’s opinions and living by your own rules. Nonchalance is more of a demeanor. A calm, relaxed attitude that can make someone seem unreadable. Where this mentality works loudly, nonchalance works more quietly, and that mystery is often what makes nonchalance so appealing.

Of course, caring too much is exhausting. We can’t care about every little thing without it taking a toll. Overthinking, over-feeling, it’s draining — and definitely not good for your mental health. That’s part of why nonchalance can be useful, it acts like a shield, letting us step back when needed. 

But trying to be “cool” by being nonchalant? That’s a different story. Suddenly it’s not about protecting yourself anymore, and more about looking mysterious or unbothered, even if you’re not actually feeling that way. That’s when it stops being useful and starts being performative. 

“(Being) worried about looking cool is a rather childish reason to be nonchalant, and later in life you will probably feel it was silly,” Garner said. 

Let’s be real, it is very cool to care, even though we’ve normalized and glorified the “too cool to care” vibe. And yes, I’ll admit, I’ve bought into it too — there’s something genuinely powerful about openly caring in a world that rewards detachment. People who are passionate, who visibly value the things that matter to them, are exciting because their energy is real. Taking the time to care, to actually invest in something or someone, is harder than staying distant. And that effort is what makes it meaningful. 

Kathryn Grant, a DePaul psychology professor, says nonchalance is often gendered — seen as “cool” in traditionally masculine roles, but not feminine ones. 

“When I think of other roles that have traditionally been filled by women — nurses, elementary school teachers — people wouldn’t want those types of people to not care,” Grant said

It’s also important to note that sometimes, what appears as “cool” is really just a way to protect yourself from being vulnerable or getting hurt. And while that can be useful in some situations, relying on it too much can keep people from truly connecting or expressing themselves.

DePaul senior Aneeqa Nadeem said she feels this on a personal level. 

“At the beginning of college, people would tell me, ‘Oh, I thought you were so nonchalant, you seem so chill, whatever,’” Nadeem said. “That’s not truly who I am, I’m not truly nonchalant. I’m just anxious to express myself in that sense.” 

What comes across as nonchalance isn’t always what it seems. Sometimes, “chill” is really just masking anxiety or fear of expressing yourself. 

For others, behaving like this isn’t performative at all, that’s genuinely how they are. If something doesn’t directly affect them and they don’t have personal stakes or worries, they can afford to stay unbothered. It can be about social class or privilege, but also about whether or not something directly impacts your life. 

If someone’s walking around with a Balenciaga backpack and Versace shoes, they probably aren’t worrying about making it to their next meal. 

That said, as Garner points out, it’s important not to reduce nonchalance to social class alone. 

“It would be a mistake to think only privileged people are uncaring,” she said. “Poor and oppressed people are often cynical, resigned to distrusting institutions and others. Taking risks to care or engage can feel ineffective or unsafe, so their detachment can be a form of self-protection — or pretending not to care.”

After all that, here’s my take: nonchalance isn’t bad, but caring isn’t weak either. Not caring might be cool — but actually caring? That’s what makes people real. Life’s too short to hide your feelings or pretend like nothing matters. Feel your feelings, and don’t ever apologize for actually caring.

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