Otrovert: When Your Social Energy Doesn’t Fit a Label

A blog post by Pepetoe.

In the last few months of 2025, a new word has been quietly making its way into social media conversations, TikTok videos, and self-reflection posts: otrovert.

Unlike introvert or extrovert, which are terms most of us have known since school, and have been taking Buzzfeed tests over for years, otrovert is a relatively new concept. It was coined in 2025 by Dr Rami Kaminski, an American psychiatrist and founder of The Otherness Institute, who introduced the term while writing about people who never quite felt at home in traditional social categories. Drawing from the Spanish word “otro,” meaning “other,” Kaminski used otrovert to describe individuals who feel socially “fluid”: present and capable in social settings, yet not consistently energised by them.

In essence, an otrovert is someone whose social energy depends on the people they’re with, rather than the situation itself. They may feel confident, expressive, and outgoing in one environment, and emotionally distant or drained in another, and sometimes for days at a time.

When I first read about the term, I didn’t feel like I’d discovered a new identity, and I’m not here to tell you to do so either. I felt like I’d found language for something I’d been experiencing for years.

Why This Term Is Everywhere Right Now

The reason otrovert has gained so much traction isn’t because it’s revolutionary, it’s because it’s relatable.

We’re living in a time where social energy is constantly being tested. Post-pandemic life, burnout culture, hustle mentalities, and hyper-connected online spaces have blurred the lines between who we are online and who we are in real life. One minute, we’re expected to be available, social, productive, and “on”. The next, we’re shamed for cancelling plans, needing space, or disappearing for a few days to recharge.

For a generation that grew up online, social interaction isn’t just physical anymore. It’s emotional, digital, performative, and often exhausting. Actually, I think that single word “performative” fits the description of Gen-Z and below so damn well. So, when a term appears that says, actually, your social capacity might change depending on the people around you, it makes people exhale just a little bit.

Otrovert doesn’t describe someone who dislikes people, nor someone who thrives on constant connection. Instead, it acknowledges that social energy is contextual; shaped by safety, familiarity, emotional load, and mutual understanding.

That’s why so many people read the definition and feel an immediate sense of recognition.

When I Read the Definition and Thought: Oh.

I’ve recently found that I struggle with traditional social labels. There are days where I can be overly social and talkative, bouncing between conversations, thriving off connection, feeling energised by being around people. I’m that person. The one who talks with their hands, overshares, laughs loudly, and feels deeply connected to others.

Then, almost out of nowhere, I’ll have a stretch of days (sometimes a full week) where I feel completely closed off. Human interaction feels heavy. Messages pile up unopened. Plans feel overwhelming. I don’t want to be perceived, spoken to, or expected to show up as my “social” self.

And over the last couple years, I thought this inconsistency meant something was wrong with me. Am I an extrovert pretending to be an introvert? An introvert forcing extroverted behaviour? Why do I feel so different depending on the moment?

Reading about the term otrovert gave me language, not a diagnosis, not a box, but a mirror.

It’s Not About People, It’s About Energy

One thing I noticed quickly is that my social comfort isn’t about how many people I’m with. It’s about who they are and how they feel. I only truly enjoy company when I’m around people who match my energy… emotionally, mentally, socially. That doesn’t mean they have the same personality or social label as me, though we all know how much I hate social labels (!). They don’t need to be another “otrovert”. They just need to get it.

I can be in a quiet room with one person and feel completely energised. Or in a busy space with many people and feel utterly depleted.

It’s not about introversion or extroversion.

It’s about safety, resonance, and emotional alignment.

Why Humans Love Labels (And Why They Can Hurt Us)

As humans, we crave labels. They help us understand ourselves. They give us language. They offer belonging. In a world that moves fast and asks a lot of us, labels can feel grounding, like answers to questions we didn’t know how to ask. But labels can also quietly turn into pressure.

Social media especially loves neat identities:

Be the introvert who loves solitude
Be the extrovert who thrives in crowds
Be productive, social, confident, outgoing… always

And if you don’t fit? You can start to feel broken, confusing, or “too much one week and not enough the next.” And this is exactly what describes the last few years of my life since I became an adult.

But the truth is, most of us don’t fit perfectly into any box.

You Don’t Have to Be an Introvert, Extrovert, or Otrovert

Here’s the most important part of this post.

You don’t need to call yourself an introvert. You don’t need to claim extroversion. And you don’t even need to identify as an otrovert.

You’re allowed to just be you.

Someone whose energy fluctuates. Someone who loves people deeply, and needs space from them too. Someone who shows up loudly sometimes and quietly at others.

Labels should be tools, not cages.

If the word otrovert helps you feel seen, understood, or less alone, that’s beautiful. If it gives you permission to stop forcing yourself into roles that don’t fit, even better.

But if it doesn’t resonate? That’s okay too.

Let This Be Reassurance, Not a New Identity

This post isn’t here to tell you who you are.

It’s here to say:

You’re not inconsistent
You’re not antisocial
You’re not failing at being “one thing”

You’re human.

And humans are fluid, responsive, emotional, and deeply influenced by connection.

If you’ve ever felt confused by your social battery, pressured by society’s expectations, or overwhelmed by the need to define yourself, I hope this helped.