The Difference Between Flattery and Giving a Compliment

Years ago, I asked a feminist friend of mine if it was always inherently oppressive for a man to give a woman a compliment. I wanted to be a better ally to women, and also to explore whether I was unconsciously holding on to any sexist beliefs or behaviour.

She explained that it had to do with whether I was expressing a sincere feeling, or just saying something I thought a woman wanted to hear as a way of manipulating her to ‘like’ me. For my friend, there was a big difference between sharing something I liked about a woman’s appearance – the kind of thing I might equally well have said to another man – and comparing her to some external scale of attractiveness that had essentially been created by men. It’s about the difference between a sincere compliment and flattery. Because beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, any woman can be attractive to any man (or woman) without feeling she needs to conform to any externally imposed definitions of attractiveness – which would indeed be a kind of sexism in action – in the same way that I (and I assume most of the men visiting this website) am trying to break free of any narrow definition of what a ‘real man’ is and live in a way that’s true to my deeper self; without worrying too much if that conforms to someone else’s ideas of what a man ‘should’ be.

This encapsulates what I mean if I say I’m a feminist man; that I want to support women, and everyone else, wherever they locate themselves on the gender spectrum, to have the right to live in a way that is true to them, and to be accepted and respected for that choice. One of the ways I try to do this is by trying to avoid any assumptions or stereotypes I may be carrying around – and if anything shows itself in how I’ve reacted to someone, to explore where that came from and let go of it. Accepting people as they are, as much as I can; and avoiding flattery and attempts at manipulation, or any empty attempts to be ‘nice’.

I used a similar approach in how I expressed appreciation to my son after reading Non-Violent Communication, in which Marshall Rosenberg explained that as a parent I could help him to become self-reliant in terms of valuing himself, rather than being dependent on my, or anyone else’s, approval to feel good about himself. So, when my boy did anything impressive, I’d say something like: “you looked like you were having a great time”, or I “really enjoyed that”, rather than “you were great” – trying to encourage him to be his own judge of who he is and what he does. (I also think my son has a great voice, but he insists that he “can’t sing”. All I can say in response is that I truly don’t know whether he can “sing” or not; at all I know is that, although I might be biased, I really like his voice – and plenty of other people might do too!)

I wish I’d been more able to adopt a self-valuing perspective as a young man. I feel like I got very little in the way of affirmation from either of my parents (although like most men, I needed it, and missed its absence, mostly from my father). Partly as a response, I became a classic people pleaser – always agonising about whether I was liked or not – often pretending to be the life and soul of the party, when inside I was feeling shy and excluded. I even learned to play the guitar passably well and formed a band, mostly with the aim of being seen as ‘cool’ and hearing the sweet sound of applause and appreciation.

But I discovered that audience approval is just another drug to mask the emptiness I was feeling inside – along with a variety of other substances I was ingesting at the time.; and like most chemical aids, it wears off quite quickly and you soon begin to need a bigger fix to have the same effect. It has that paradoxical quality common to most drugs which are used to escape emotional pain, of actually increasing the problem (e.g. my sense of being isolated and not good enough) that it is intended to relieve!

I found being on a stage was a strangely isolating experience when I was trying to be liked. It wasn’t long before audience members had gone home with their friends and partners, and I was left alone. I also had a lot of anxiety when I was performing, mostly rooted in my fear of not being good enough, and/or being rejected. Then I read somewhere that the best antidote to stage-fright was to think of myself as offering whatever talent I had as a ‘gift’ to the audience, even looking for anxious or unhappy looking people and doing my best to cheer them up. By taking the focus and motivation away from myself and my over-fragile ego, I was able to get the experience into perspective and began to actually enjoy the whole process a lot more.

At the same time, I also began to notice that if after a gig someone came up to me and said: “you were great”, or words to that effect, it was flattering but I felt strangely unmoved and even doubted their sincerity – whereas in the past it would have been music to my insecure ears. But if someone ever said, “that song meant a lot me”, or even just” I really enjoyed it”, it was a perfect compliment because I felt like I’d achieved what I set out to do.

It’s the same in my personal life. Last night my wife and I went out for a meal, and I put on a nice shirt and a jacket for the occasion. Later on, when we got home, she said: “You looked smart tonight”. I know she was trying to be nice about what I was wearing – but the truth is, what I’d have preferred to hear was that she wanted me to take it off as soon as possible. Now that’s the kind of compliment I like best!

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