How Rude?!

There’s this trend I keep coming across in my day to day interactions with people, which quite frankly, really pisses me off. I’m an extrovert that does actively seek out conversations with strangers, largely because I dislike being in my own bubble. I’m also the person that enjoys saying good morning and hello to passers by, either on my walks or while going through the grocery store. Perhaps that’s because I need some validation that you recognize that I exist, or on the other side of the spectrum, I generally find it pleasurable to see someone and to validate their existence. Regardless my motivation, it is something I find value in. Very often, these days, as I walk past someone they will actively avert their eyes to ensure that no interaction takes place. If I wave or say hello, I can see this feigned acknowledgment of the greeting while at the same time their discontentment with it is obvious. I’ve even been reprimanded for asking how are you or holding the door open for those behind me. I don’t want to make it seem as though this is the preponderance of the interactions I have, but rather to note that it is much more common now than it was in my past. Initially, I wrote it off as the person was having a bad day, or at its worst, they’re just rude. The frequency that it happens these days, though, leads me to believe that it is something else. I think it’s a symptom of something much larger that pervades our society these days. In the last twenty years there seems to be this hyper focus on the individual, and to be more precise, on an individual’s identity and want. It’s this focus on identity that seems to be pushing us away from each other instead of bringing about unity. Generally, as someone with conservative leanings, I agree with individualism and believe that the root of most, if not all, problems and goods stem from the individual. As individuals we can empower or influence others to an array of outcomes, be they negative or positive. This, as I’ve referenced in previous posts, requires of us to be based in some form of moral system, have purpose, and to be active in the lives of those around us. This last item is where I see us failing, and I believe it to be the culprit for the degradation in the common decency I find today. Patient zero or the cause for this is going to be hard to find, as likely it is a multitude of societal and institutional iterations from the past operating in tandem that has led us here. I think, though, that we can focus on just a few ideas and find that some small shifts in behavior can affect a lot of good.

When I was young, specifically between the ages of sixteen and twenty two, I was a terribly selfish person. Even though I might help someone else, it always had a degree of self betterment imbedded in it. Not the kind of self betterment where I became a more altruistic or kind person, but rather that it bettered my station and/or influence on others. I can actually pinpoint specifically the moment where I went from being an introverted and mostly kind and considerate person, to when I became a self indulged and narcissistic one. Middle school was a very hard time for me. I was awkward, short, had a ridiculous choice in hair style, and was mostly ostracized from any of the larger social groups in school. Kids being kids, this resulted in the standard amount of taunting and bullying that happens to the lesser thans on the lower end of the social hierarchy. I had all the same self esteem issues that you would assume, the same social deficiencies that isolation breeds, and the same level of jealousy that is borne in that environment. I was fortunate that San Antonio had allowed magnet schools in my district, which gave me the opportunity not to follow along with my tormentors from middle school and rather go to an entirely other high school where I largely knew no one. When summer break came and eighth grade was finally over, I made a few conscience decisions. I knew the things that were holding me back from the popularity I so desired were my style and hair cut. So, I shed my JNCO jeans (I know, I actively ridicule myself often for having ever worn them), cut my hair to a style that better suited the curliness that plagued me, and began practicing “being cool”. The wardrobe and hair style change worked quite well, the version of cool that I tried, though, definitely needed some work. Partially into the first semester of high school, while walking up the stairs on my way to class, I saw a list taped to the wall of the stairwell titled “Hottest Guys in the Freshman Class”. Lo and behold my name was on it. I wasn’t the tenth, not even the fifth, I was third on the list! Not only was I third, I was third behind the two most popular guys in my grade level. I can’t describe the feeling of elation this gave me. It was a seismic shift in my life that I can still viscerally feel if I think about that moment today. This attribute of physical attractiveness was all I needed for recognition. Around this same time the movie Cruel Intentions had come out, it stars Ryan Phillippe as a rich, suave, attractive womanizer. Having viewed the film countless times, I now had a model of behavior to emulate that could maximize my one bit of social currency. The arc of this and its inevitable outcome isn’t hard to guess. I succeeded, in as much as I was able at least, in becoming this person I thought would gain me as much clout as possible. The more girls liked me, especially the more attractive and popular ones, the more popular I became. I climbed that ladder as fast as I could and left a lot of unsatisfied and unhappy people in my wake. The end of senior year came and the dumbest of graduating class traditions, sanctioned by the school, took place. The issuing of the senior class superlatives. I won the most attractive award as well as prettiest eyes. Game, set, match, my efforts had paid off and I had reached the pinnacle of what was important to me and could now rule from my throne of adornment. When I got to college, I was quickly taught otherwise. I was one of so many fish that the level of competition for the same status I once had was too great. They quickly overthrew my monarchy and I was cast back amongst the plebs. The loss of my social status wrecked my self esteem and I struggled to find the defining characteristic about who I was. The moral of the story here is that my identity was wrapped and entirely packaged in what others thought of me. It was my only guiding star. And it wasn’t what my friends thought of me, necessarily, it was what everyone thought of me that mattered. I needed everyone to find me attractive, if someone didn’t it really bothered me. I took offense to it. I couldn’t fathom what was wrong with this person that didn’t perceive me as so many others did. Here at the end I hope you can hear the similarities of my experience with what so many harp on today. It wasn’t enough for me to know who I was, I needed you to see me the way that I wanted to be seen.

Validate who I am! Or whatever iteration of this statement you prefer, is the culture we live in today. As a society we’ve leaned into the concept that the individual is always right, or at least their perceptions are. If their feelings are hurt, apologize and praise. If they succeed, validate and praise. If they fail, just praise. We’ve set up multiple generations for failure in this way, and I believe my generation, the millennials, to be the first of these. The thin husk of protection I was given through my adolescence by being told how great I was or how big my potential was, gave me very few tools to use when adversity actually found me. Whenever I failed, it was devastating. My identity was so wrapped up in the wonderful praises I received that I couldn’t perceive any of my failures as being my own. If I’m as great as everyone claims, then the reason for my stumbles and failures must be at the hand of someone or something else. Trust me when I say that I have blamed many a people and institutions for my short comings. I’ve blamed my parents for not raising me in a way where I could have developed a higher resilience amongst my peers when social conflicts arose. I’ve blamed the education system for funneling me toward college as the only avenue for success, even though I never really liked school. I’ve blamed the economy when I was poor. I’ve blamed the government for my PTSD. I have cast blame all around…but not often at myself. The identity I claimed wouldn’t allow me to, because if I did then the justifications for who I am would be false. At which point, who am I? This is probably the question that is too often asked and not often enough rigorously answered. Digging deep is difficult so we settle on the easy stuff. How much money we have, how much stuff we’ve accumulated, the activities we do, the color of our skin, the religion we follow, our sexuality, and the list of ultimately frivolous attributes just goes on. We then take these attributes and, with some convoluted algebraic formula, generate an identity that more often than not I find to be very hollow. Not only hollow, but hypocritical. Depending on the topic, the answers and values will differ based on some fickle aspect or immutable trait. The individual’s identity somehow gets enmeshed with a much larger group’s experiences or history. These assumed experiences, when discussing a matter, get amplified by a supposed alignment with a particular group’s greivances and the identity marker applicable to the topic at hand. If the topic shifts, then suddenly the values, histories, and contrived lessons from someone else’s experiences shift as well. As if the general value sets that you use to navigate your life are just arbitrary. This results in any discussion regarding an individual’s needs nearly impossible to have. If the solution doesn’t solve the problem for all then there can be no solution. This, as it seems to me, just ends up in nothing being done, neither at the individual level or at the societal. This helplessness is only exasperated with how we interact with each other today. Long gone are the days where you’d rather call than text. Hell, we’d rather scroll the social media feed of choice to see what someone is up to rather than contact them directly. Social media has also given us this false sense of reach and power. We all recognize it. I have this conversation often with people of all walks of life and political affiliation. But rather than coming to the realization that we need to act more locally and directly in order to affect change, we just throw our hands up in the air and say that nothing can be done.

I don’t mean to diminish the histories and experiences of different groups in our society, nor do I want to make it seem as if they can’t apply in how we go about defining ourselves. Our individual identities are so much more than the summation of experiences made by our ancestors. Our character and our accomplishments are much better indicators of who we are. The much maligned term, merit, actually does have some utility when developing one’s identity. Merit also grounds you to the arena within which you’ve operated, keeping you from feeling too important while at the same time justifying the sense of self that you deserve. Recognizing one’s accomplishments and failures can restrain the ego from becoming inflated and limits the influence we perceive we have. I said something on a whim a few days ago and it keeps echoing in my mind. “Our arms are only so long, reach what you can before going beyond.” Something about that statement just rings very true to me. There are plenty neighbors and peers around you that could use some whose lives you can affect. If you can improve your surroundings, your life will also improve. There are plenty of causes with which we can embody and support, but don’t let them be the thing that defines who you are. Our voices have such a far reach today and can trick us into thinking we have far more value than we really do. Our responsibility for self awareness in this era, as compared to those before us, is monumentally higher. Our identities have been coopted by our politics and we’ve lost proper perspective. Media and social media has skewed our perception of what is morally good and what is morally necessary. We’ve allowed ourselves to put on jerseys for teams whose intentions and designs we don’t even know. We cheerlead our politics as if it were sport. We behave as if the Dallas Cowboys are the Republicans and the Philadelphia Eagles are the Democrats. As a Cowboys fan I can assure you my disdain of the Eagles is real. I’ll never be an Eagles fan, but my politics can’t be viewed through this same lens. My life in south Texas has little to do with the life of someone in central California. The culture that partially defines me here is different than the culture that partially defines them there. They have different needs than I do, so what right do I have to prognosticate to them how they should live their lives or how they should define themselves. Thus, we need to rediscover the things that really matter when considering our identity and defining who we are. The only thing that I can see as a unifying identity amongst us all is that we are American. From there be whoever you find yourself to be. For me, being an American is all I need to love and support you, regardless if I disagree with you on a particular topic. We’re here in this place together, and we’ll be here together no matter what way you identify. Have a little more grace and compassion with each other and I believe we’ll find the value in ourselves we need in order to know who we are. With that I wish you all a very happy Fourth of July, be safe and have fun!