We live in an era that glorifies wellness. We see it on social media, in advertising campaigns, in motivational speeches: taking care of yourself is the new mantra. But behind this apparent universality lies an uncomfortable question that deserves to be explored calmly: is self-care really accessible to everyone, or has it become a privilege reserved for those who have the time, resources, and mental space to prioritize themselves?
Self-care, understood as the set of practices that promote physical, emotional, and mental health, should be a right. However, in practice, many people cannot exercise it. Long working hours, economic insecurity, overwhelming family responsibilities, or unsafe social environments make self-care not a real option for everyone. Saying "take care" sounds good, but it can be an empty phrase if not accompanied by conditions that make it possible.
Taking care is not the same as being able to take care
The wellness culture has been colonized by the market. Today, self-care is associated with products, services, and experiences that require investment: meditation apps, nutritional supplements, yoga retreats, functional cosmetics, organic food… All of this can be valuable but also exclusive. When wellness becomes consumption, there is a risk that only a few can access it.
Moreover, there is a social pressure that turns self-care into a moral obligation. If you don’t take care of yourself, if you don’t exercise, if you don’t meditate, if you don’t eat well, it seems you are failing. This narrative blames those who cannot maintain ideal routines, without considering that context matters. Taking care of yourself from abundance is not the same as doing it from survival.
Self-care as an ethical and political act
Writer Audre Lorde expressed it forcefully: "Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare." For many people — women, racialized people, caregivers, non-normative bodies — self-care is a form of resistance against a system that does not care for them. In this sense, taking care is not disconnecting from the world, but finding ways to continue existing in it without disappearing in the attempt.
From this perspective, self-care is not an individualistic gesture, but an ethical practice that recognizes interdependence. Taking care of yourself to be able to care. Resting to be able to sustain. Setting boundaries to be present. This vision challenges the idea that wellness is a reward for having performed enough, and places it as a human need that deserves to be protected.
How do we build an inclusive ethics of wellness?
Recognizing self-care as a right implies transforming the environment. Creating accessible spaces, guaranteeing mental health services, promoting rest as a value, making visible caregiving work, and fostering a culture that legitimizes wellness without stigmas. It also implies reviewing our own practices: how do we talk about self-care? Whom do we exclude when we idealize it? What models do we promote?
The Caldaria spas, for example, can be part of this transformation. Not only as places of rest but as places that promote wellness through inclusion, listening, and respect. Offering adapted, accessible, and emotionally safe experiences is a concrete way to make self-care a possibility for more people.
The ethics of wellness invites us to rethink self-care as more than a personal routine. It is a practice that should be within everyone’s reach, regardless of their economic, labor, or social situation. Because taking care is not a whim, nor a trend, nor a reward for having performed. It is a way of being in the world with dignity, awareness, and connection.
From HDOSO we encourage you to claim self-care as a right, to question the narratives that turn it into a privilege, and to discover in Caldaria a place where taking care is neither an obligation nor a luxury, but a shared experience that transforms.
