Sometimes our no's are more powerful than our yes's
When Simone Biles withdrew from the Tokyo Olympics in the summer of 2021, she did something rare in the world of elite competition: she chose herself over the spectacle. The support that followed — particularly from Justin Bieber and Demi Lovato, two artists who had navigated their own public unravelings — spoke to a quiet but significant shift in how fame and mental health are being reckoned with. In a culture that has long mistaken endurance for strength, their voices added weight to a different kind of courage.
- Biles faced a dangerous psychological phenomenon known as 'the twisties' mid-competition, forcing a withdrawal that shocked the world but may have prevented serious physical harm.
- The pressure on elite athletes to perform regardless of internal state exposed a deeper tension: the assumption that exceptional bodies and minds exist primarily to deliver results for others.
- Justin Bieber, drawing on his own decision to halt a world tour for mental health reasons, publicly told Biles that saying 'no' can be more powerful than any gold medal.
- Demi Lovato also reached out, and Biles noted that these messages carried a particular resonance — only those who have lived under the weight of a massive public platform can truly understand its cost.
- The incident is landing not as a story of failure, but as a turning point in how high-profile figures are beginning to normalize mental health conversations in the most visible arenas.
When Simone Biles stepped away from competition at the Tokyo Olympics, her decision to prioritize her mental health sent ripples far beyond the gymnastics world. Among those who responded were Justin Bieber and Demi Lovato — two musicians who knew something about living under relentless public scrutiny.
Biles later reflected that their outreach meant something distinct from the support she received through official channels. As she put it, people at that level of fame are not seen as ordinary human beings, and only those who have inhabited that reality can truly understand its weight.
Bieber's message was direct and personal. He told Biles he was proud of her choice, invoking the idea that gaining the world while losing oneself is no victory at all. He spoke from experience — he had walked away from his own Purpose tour years earlier under the strain of mental health struggles, absorbing public criticism for it. Now he was offering Biles the knowledge that withdrawal could be an act of wisdom rather than weakness. 'Sometimes our no's are more powerful than our yes's,' he wrote, describing how he came to see his own departure from touring as the best decision he had ever made.
What gave these messages their particular force was not celebrity alone, but credibility. Bieber and Lovato had already paid the price of pushing past their limits, and they were offering Biles something hard-won: the understanding that when the thing you love begins to drain rather than sustain you, stepping back is not surrender — it is survival. In doing so, they helped reframe her withdrawal not as failure, but as a form of strength the sporting world is only beginning to learn how to honor.
When Simone Biles stepped back from competition at the Tokyo Olympics in the summer of 2021, she made a choice that reverberated far beyond the gymnastics arena. The decision to withdraw and prioritize her mental health was met with an outpouring of support—some of it from unexpected quarters. Among those who reached out were two musicians who understood, in their own way, what it meant to live under the weight of public scrutiny: Justin Bieber and Demi Lovato.
Biles later spoke about these messages in an interview with Athleta, explaining that the contact meant something specific to her. She had been working with Team USA's sports psychologists, but the reach from Bieber and Lovato carried a different kind of weight. "It's different and nobody kind of understands the platform that we're on," she said. "We're not seen as normal people walking around." There was something in that recognition—the acknowledgment that fame itself becomes a kind of pressure that ordinary people, no matter how well-meaning, cannot fully grasp.
Bieber's response was particularly pointed. He posted a public message that cut to the heart of what Biles was facing. "Nobody will ever understand the pressures you face," he wrote. "I know we don't know each other but I'm so proud of the decision to withdraw. It's as simple as what does it mean to gain the whole world but forfeit your soul." The reference was biblical, but the sentiment was immediate and personal. Bieber was speaking from experience. He had halted his Purpose tour years earlier because of his own mental health struggles, and he had absorbed considerable criticism for that choice. Now he was telling Biles that she was not alone in making it.
He went further, offering something like a manifesto for the moment. "Sometimes our no's are more powerful than our yes's," Bieber wrote. "When what you normally love starts to steal your joy it's important we take a step back to evaluate why." He reflected on his own decision to leave the tour, calling it "the best thing I could have done for my mental health." The message was not abstract. It was rooted in his own reckoning with what happens when the thing you love—performing, competing, creating—becomes something that drains rather than sustains you.
What made these interventions significant was not just that they came from famous people. It was that they came from people who had themselves faced the machinery of celebrity and found it wanting. Biles had withdrawn from the Olympics not because she lacked skill or courage, but because something in her mind—what gymnasts call "the twisties," a loss of spatial awareness mid-air—had become dangerous. The broader issue was the pressure itself: the expectation that she would perform at the highest level regardless of her internal state, the assumption that her body and mind existed primarily to deliver results for others.
The response from Bieber and Lovato suggested a quiet shift in how some public figures were beginning to talk about mental health. Rather than framing withdrawal as failure, they framed it as wisdom. Rather than treating mental health as a private matter to be managed silently, they made it visible and worthy of respect. Biles received support from Olympic legend Michael Phelps as well, and from countless others. But the messages from Bieber and Lovato stood out because they came from people who had already paid the price of ignoring their own mental limits, and who were now offering Biles the gift of their hard-won knowledge: that sometimes the most powerful thing an athlete or artist can do is stop.
Citas Notables
Nobody will ever understand the pressures you face. I know we don't know each other but I'm so proud of the decision to withdraw. It's as simple as what does it mean to gain the whole world but forfeit your soul.— Justin Bieber, in a public message to Simone Biles
It's different and nobody kind of understands the platform that we're on. We're not seen as normal people walking around.— Simone Biles, describing why celebrity support mattered
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
What made Bieber's message different from the other support Biles received?
He wasn't speaking as a fan or a fellow athlete. He was speaking as someone who had already made the same choice and survived the backlash. He had something to teach her.
Did Biles actually know Bieber before this?
No. She said so directly—"I know we don't know each other." That's part of what made it powerful. He reached out as a stranger who recognized something in her situation.
Why does Bieber keep bringing up the idea of saying no?
Because he'd been told he was wrong for saying no. He stopped his tour and people called him crazy. Now he was telling Biles that his no was the best decision he ever made. He was rewriting the narrative.
What's the "twisties" thing about?
It's a real phenomenon in gymnastics—your brain loses track of where you are in space mid-air. It's dangerous. But Biles was also dealing with the larger pressure of being the greatest gymnast alive and having the whole world watching.
Did this change how people talked about mental health in sports?
It helped. When someone like Bieber—who'd been criticized for his own mental health break—publicly validated Biles's choice, it gave permission to others to do the same. It normalized the conversation.
What did Lovato's outreach add?
Similar story. Another person who'd struggled publicly and survived. The message was: we understand what you're carrying, and we're telling you it's okay to put it down.