Happyfake

Like so many things, it started right back when I was a kid.  I noticed that in most social situations, we were very much expected to be happyfake.  The people who said not to lie to them lied all the time and asked us to lie to others.  It was largely about giving the expected impression even if that meant giving a false impression.  Being in church circles made that get worse, not better.  We were not to tell unpleasant or awkward truths.  We had to like everything and think everything was fine all the time.  I think being Canadian is more that than being American is, and not so much "that" as being British is.  Probably about on a par with being a New Zealander, and more than being an Australian.  We're not very blunt, in Canada, to speak in generalizations, as one needs to do on occasion.  We're just not.  We can only gaze on in baffled amazement at the confident, strident nonsense so many Americans seem willing to spew.

Our house was almost always deadly silent.  I wasn't to run up the stairs.  Ever.  Voices were not generally raised in our house, and when they were, it was my dad who got to do it, and you'd better believe something bad was about to happen.  Raising my voice in annoyance, or expressing annoyance, or being negative about anyone or anything we were too closely connected to was just rude.  Judging other, disconnected people was ok, of course.  Judgments that no one present could in any way take personally were idle chit-chat.  "Saying the wrong thing" to or about someone who was present, though, was something we lived in terror of.  We still do.  When you "say the wrong thing" people walk out of the room.  They stop talking to you.

You weren't to complain in any way that mattered.  It had to be impotent complaining to be OK.  You could complain endlessly about stuff you bought in stores and service in restaurants, but NEVER to the people in question, and never in aid of seeking a refund, an exchange or an apology.  To do that would have been ridiculous and unthinkably embarrassing.  When anyone we were with actually did it, we were mortified and resented them.  It wasn't done.  None of the complaining seemed to result in people getting in touch with their feelings and getting themselves figured out, either.  When people were angry, half the time they didn't know it, let alone admit it.  If they did admit it, they would have had to apologize.  Being caught feeling angry was NOT OK.

A church youth group was about teenagers being together and having a good time, without (in theory) using cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, sex, TV or movies to have said good time.   That's what you were to do.  Prove that the good time could be had.  Not fitting in, not having a good time meant something was wrong with you.  Not enjoying what was going on (I remember board games, volleyball and songs, as well as a lot of standing around) meant something was wrong with you.  Was something wrong with you?  It was like social groups at school, and it was like living in suburbia, only a lot worse.

When people asked you how you were, you were fine.  When people asked if you liked what the speaker had said, you did.  When people asked if you were looking forward to, well, anything at all, including school (in September when it was August and you were 12) of course you were.

I had a problem.  Something was wrong with me.  I'd say "Not really."  I'd say "I have allergies."  Sometimes I'd just baldly say "Nope."  Unacceptable.  Problematic.  Negative. (grammatically so)  Not how to meet and keep friends.  Asshole behaviour of the first order.  People would take me aside when I was 12, when I was 16, when I was 18 and reveal that, obviously, most people felt most of the things I did, that NO ONE felt like they fit in (especially the leaders) but that one didn't refer to those feelings, as they weren't constructive.  They skewed the status of the quo. Stiff upper-lipped smile.  Tough it out.

I still "say the wrong thing" all the time.  Sometimes I mean to and I still think afterward that it needed to be said.  Too often I didn't see the negative reaction coming and didn't know it would be "the wrong thing."  That always makes me feel like such an idiot.

So, if I could somehow, magically just not have negative (or disconnected) emotional reactions (or lack of reactions) to anything, then I'd have more friends?  People would like me more as a unique, special human being?  Oddly, I have found the opposite to be true.  If it's about "true" (and I try to live as if it is) being honest whenever you can (and most of us aren't even trying most days) makes quite a difference.  Part of that difference is you are inconvenient.  You are being (cardinal damning adjective of the early 21st century) awkward.  You're not supposed to tell the truth if it's going to make people feel awkward.

Saying something that makes people feel bad is looked at as having uttered something that was somehow inherently, regardless of context or intent, "negative."  Similarly, saying things that make people feel awkward is looked at as having given voice to something that was somehow inherently, regardless of context or intent, "awkward."

Grammatically perfect, eloquently constructed sentences can be "awkward" now, if anyone feels funny once you've said them.  And if you do enough awkward things?  You are a "creeper."  And no one wants to be a creeper, right?  Even if they are telling the truth?

Funny thing: when you are the first person to tell the awkward, creepy truth about something, whole herds of people find it makes them glow inside, every bit as much as it makes them squirm outside.  They don't want to be near you in public, they sometimes don't even want to be seen talking to you or seeming to support you, but they glow inside anyway.  Sometimes they tell you secretly, afterward, trusting you to not reveal they ever did that.

If Christians are to become more like Jesus, they'd better give up on fitting in, keeping a low profile and just being quietly supportive, as well as keeping their mouths shut when they see hypocrisy and abuses of power and authority.

When I worked for the first time with a whole lot of people from  a large number of other cultures, I suddenly found out how uptight and emotionally shut up we really were in Canada.  I learned that if someone from Somalia or Lebanon disagrees with you, they may well simply tell you in no uncertain terms.  They may not even feel the need of having a handy argument ready.  They might simply not like your idea and tell you that and say nothing else.  They may not say "I'm sorry, but I feel..." at the start. They may not say "I'm sorry, but that's just how I feel" at the end.  They may not say "OK, but have you considered..." in the middle.  There is much less ambiguity and doubt in the discussion when it rolls like that.  People speak their hearts, even if they're angry, like they've simply got that right, and all in a country where being angry is something one generally needs to apologize for, just like getting teary.  "Sorry.  I got a bit emotional.  Give me a moment to compose myself.  If I can't get myself composed, I'll leave of course, even if it's my own mother's funeral.  I promise not to trouble you with my emotions.  OK.  There.  Now what were you saying?"

I was raised that Hispanic people were known to generally be hot-tempered and passionate people.  That black people had an easy, open, natural emotionality and connectedness to their feelings.  That Asian people were excitable.  That Greeks and Italians were too.  That Arabic people were hot-tempered and passionate too.  Even people from Newfoundland, on the east coast of our country, were weird.  They were blunt.  They laughed and partied and joked more.  They cared how they looked and what people thought less.  Eventually I realized: it's just us.  It's not really a matter of all of them being more something.  It is us  being less a bunch of very human, very emotional things.  It's a matter of us faking stuff, and repressing and suppressing stuff.  (the difference between repressing and suppressing stuff is that you don't know it when you've repressed stuff)

To this day, when someone is ungodly happy in a conversation, and is presenting the image of  "Oh, I'm not actually in a giddy mood at all.  This is just me! I'm just the sort of person who walks around smiling and humming to myself most days!  Yup!  This really me!  I'm just happy most of the time!  I LOVE exclamation points too!  Don't you?" I immediately think "Fake.  You aren't that at all.  Not really.  You're just BEing it because you think it's how you want people to view you."  And too often, with white people in Canada?  I'm right.  I'm tired of that.  Being right is so not enough.