What Is Woke-Fishing And Are You the One Stuck on the Hook?

It usually starts with a great first date. She says things like “emotional availability is non-negotiable” and “I’ve done a lot of shadow work lately” and “masculinity is so much more than just performative strength, right?”

And I’m nodding because, yes, yes, obviously yes. Finally, someone who gets it. Finally, someone who won’t make you feel weird for talking about your dad or your panic spiral at 3am.

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You fall fast for that kind of language and why not, it sounds like home, or at least like stability dressed in sexy voice. You tell your friends, she’s different. That she gets it.  You say, this one might actually be the one.

But a few weeks in, the script starts fraying.

She says she wants to be “intentional” but she never replies on time. She wants to “build something rooted in honesty” but still somehow dodges every conversation that starts with “Can we talk?” She talks about energy, and flow, and protecting peace, and how boundaries are sacred — and suddenly those boundaries start looking more like walls.

The thing about her that you liked the most, you realise, is starting to become a hollow drum that echoes things you’d like to hear. You realise that emotional intelligence can be a style. A vocabulary. A trap.

It’s easy to say “trauma-informed” and “healing journey” and “inner child” — but then what? Then she disappears for four days because she’s “navigating her own truth.” And that truth does not include calling you back.

So yeah, that is literally woke-fishing.

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It’s like catfishing, but instead of fake photos it’s fake depth. Fake growth. Fake readiness. To call it lying would be an insult to a liar— it’s more like dressing up as a half-formed version of yourself in the language of fully-formed people.

You know the type. They read a few viral tweets, watch one TED Talk, bookmark a dozen posts about attachment styles — and suddenly they’re a philosopher of feelings. They’re fluent. Almost too fluent. Like someone trying on your politics to impress you. Trying on empathy is like an accessory.

And the worst part? You fall for it.

Because we’re all tired. Because who wants to date another emotionally unavailable adult in a cool jacket? Because we want people who say the right things — and when they do, we believe them.

But here’s what no one tells you: You can’t date someone’s potential. You can’t date someone’s Instagram voice. And you certainly can’t build something real on curated self-awareness. Sometimes the woke-fisher is someone else. And sometimes, god help you, it’s you.

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Because maybe you’ve said “I just need to honour where I’m at right now” when what you really meant was: I’m not ready, but I still want your attention. Maybe you’ve talked about being in therapy while avoiding every hard conversation. Maybe you’re fluent, too.

So, it’s worth asking yourself: Are you being played or are you just playing dress-up? Because in 2025, the biggest red flag isn’t emotional unavailability. It’s emotional performance. And you won’t even see it coming. Not until the playlist gets quiet. Maybe not even until the ghosting is gentle, self-aware, well-articulated.

“I just don’t have the capacity right now,” she says. And suddenly you’re the bad guy — for believing her in the first place.

How To Spot Wokefishers?

Here's what you should know about wokefishers before they make you wait too long to reply back only for you to figure out you've been ghosted.  

They speak fluent “healing” but have zero accountability

They know every term. Trauma bonding. Avoidant attachment. Boundaries. Inner child. They’ll explain why they ghosted you with a beautifully articulated voice note about needing to self-regulate. But the actual apology? Never arrives.

They mirror your values a little too perfectly

You say feminism, they say “totally agree.” You say therapy, they nod with soft eyes. You talk about emotional availability, and they suddenly have a podcast rec. It’s not conversation — it’s camouflage.

They use “boundaries” like a get-out-of-jail-free card

You bring up something that hurt you, they say they “don’t have the emotional capacity right now.” You ask where things are going, they say they’re “protecting their energy.” You suggest clarity, they suggest “letting it flow.” Translation: they don’t want to be called out — but they’ll dress that up like self-respect.

They post about healing more than they actually do it

Quotes, reels, captions, carousels. They’re always processing something. Except when it involves you. Then suddenly they’re “focusing inward” or “reparenting themselves” or “going off-grid.” (Make no mistake — they’re not.)

Everything’s vague, yet profound

Ask how they feel — you’ll get metaphors. Ask what they want — you’ll get poetry. Ask for commitment — you’ll get silence, delivered with a soft smile and a quote from bell hooks.

They end things like it’s a TED Talk

Woke-fishers don’t ghost you. They exit with intention or will thank you for the connection, the energy exchange, the lesson.

Then vanish into the algorithm, never to be seen again.

They always sound like they’re being watched

Every text is perfectly phrased. Every conversation sounds like they’re mic’d up for a documentary on mindful dating. There’s no mess. Just performance.