Marcus Williams knows what it’s like to hide from fear. Now he’s trying something different.
I don’t fear a lot of the standard stuff. Heights? I’ve done a tandem sky dive and jumped off the side of a sky tower. Depths? I love scuba diving. Spiders? Crush ‘em. Bears? Well, sure, but that’s just plain common sense if they’re wild, uncaged, and within sniffing range of my pic-i-nic basket. None of those fears would make me feel unmanly even if I had them, but one of my most persistent and inhibiting fears is one that does make me feel somehow less of a man: I fear not being liked.
In face-to-face life, I feel socially awkward because I worry that if people get to know me too well, they’re bound to find out something about me that will alienate them. The first impression doesn’t worry me much, but the tenth impression does. How will they react if they find out I don’t share their politics or faith? Will they be put off because I use big words and “think too much”? Will a sense of humor that was endearing at first eventually grate on them?
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I worry about such things more than I should, I know, but I came by these fears honestly. As a kid, I was a geek before geeks were cool, so other kids asked me for help on assignments but I rarely got invitations to hang out or socialize. I would see how other people could approach a circle of people talking, and that circle would open up to let them in, but when I tried, it felt like it stayed closed. It takes confidence to invite yourself along if no one else does, or to be that person that circles open up for, but it’s a Catch-22: I lacked the confidence because I didn’t expect to be liked, but I didn’t feel liked enough to gain that confidence.
In college, I tried very hard to turn over a new leaf and be more socially confident, which was my primary motivation in joining a fraternity. One of my standout memories of my fraternity experience was one night when my pledge class of about fifteen guys had what was called a “blue room”. It was supposed to be an exercise in clearing the air where everyone could safely vent or get shit off their chest and then supposedly put it all behind them. As everyone went around the room taking turns, almost every person in that room made a point of singling me out as someone who didn’t seem to fit in and wondered at length why I was there. I should have quit right there, but didn’t, probably out of some mix of wounded pride and determination. (They were right, though—I never did fit in much.) The first time I attended rush as an initiated member (“rush” is where you meet and recruit new members) a brother took me aside and advised me, “Try to inject less of yourself into the conversation.” Chances are, it was good advice given the context and purpose of those conversations, but it hurt my feelings badly and sent the message that too much me was not likable, and more likely to drive people away than to draw them in. That was the first and last time I’d participate in rush as a brother, despite it being a “mandatory” duty of brotherhood.
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I’ve hopefully developed a little more social grace in my twenty or so years since college, but I still have this little voice that warns me not to inject too much me into a conversation, or that makes me feel like an outcast in any group that’s more than three or four people big. I always expect to be the first one voted off the island.
As if this fear isn’t enough of a social handicap, it has also inhibited my writing, with some added twists. I’ve written a lot, and if I could make a living at it, it would be my dream career. It’s only recently, though, that I’ve started to publish anything, and the fear of not being liked is partly to blame for not making more of an effort to get published.
When it comes to writing, I’m not particularly worried about scaring off potential friends, because if I ever get a large enough audience to make a living as a writer, I don’t expect or need every reader to be a buddy. A larger concern is that someone who already knows me and likes me, whether a casual friend or someone closer like my wife or family, will be alienated by something I write. For example, a casual friend may not know I’m an atheist because I’m fairly closeted about that, so if they see me writing about it, that could pose a problem to someone who has a low tolerance for atheists. (Shocker, I know, but such people exist.)
Even bigger than the concern of someone being alienated by finding out more about me, is the concern that I will hurt them with something I write. Some differences of opinion or taste are easier to tolerate when they’re not “out there”; writing tends to expose them. Taking this fear to the extreme, I worry that I could bother or offend someone so much that they would threaten me or my family—especially my family. I don’t consider it very likely, but only because I’m still a relative nobody. (A friend of mine once started a reality tv discussion board that exploded in popularity, and instead of it being fun and cool, he ended up selling it and getting out because some people who were unhappy with his moderation style used their Internet savvy to find out his real name and address and make threats to him and his family.) If I ever get that career I dream of, that kind of reaction would seem to be an occupational hazard, not just paranoia.
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The fear is still there and still inhibits me socially and as a writer, but I have gradually gotten better at coping with it. My old, ineffective coping mechanism was to be socially withdrawn almost to the point of isolation, and keep my really personal writing (i.e., the most interesting stuff) to myself. That was pretty effective at not getting myself disliked because people who didn’t know me or find out more about me couldn’t find much to dislike. Being that guarded, though, also kept most connections shallow and prevented a lot of other connections from ever even getting started.
The important realization I finally had—and it’s not all that mysterious—is that I can’t make the kind of connections I crave without risking the kind of rejection or hurt that I fear. In relationships, the only way to find and enjoy people with compatible values and tastes and senses of humor is to reveal my own. In writing, unless I want to be a bland, forgettable writer, the only way to connect with some readers is to risk rubbing others the wrong way, and when the topics are sensitive, even risk being hated. I still don’t want to be disliked, hated, or rejected, and I for sure don’t want to hurt people, but isolating myself to avoid my fear hasn’t been very satisfying, so now I’m going the other way.
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photo: marcokenmoeller / flickr
I am proud to be your sister. You were born my brother but you have become my dearest friend and greatest ally. (I had to look ally up in the dictionary) I understand your fear and admire your courage to write honestly. I love you. I embrace our differences and respect your opinions. I am envious of your brilliant mind and wonderful wit. You make me laugh like nobody else can. What really makes me love you above all your strengths is that you are imperfect. I am your sister and I will love you regardless of any differences of… Read more »
I always feel your love and support, but it is very touching to see you express it so openly like that. Thank you, and the feeling is mutual, except the part about you being my brother and me being your sister. Flip that around, and I’m on board.
Hmmm…I seem to be stuck on this train thing today. Must be the train set my girls got for Christmas. Time to look at other toys to refresh my metaphors.
Wow! Thank you so much for this! I completely relate! I’m a young girl of 21, atheist & have many other non-mainstream, non-conformist views. And I am constantly dealing with the anxiety & fear of not being accepted. & I always downplay myself out of fear of being rejected. In my own capacity I’ve always though of myself as a thinker & a pretty good one at that! ;)but when I go out into the real world I feel somewhat pathological, like I must have something wrong with me & I need to change. Until now I’ve always thought I… Read more »
I’m so glad this resonated with you, and wish you well on your journey of courage and self-acceptance. If you look at me and Joss up there taking 42 years to figure it out and embrace it, you’re already making progress twice as fast! Welcome aboard.
It took me some 35 years to learn that vulnerability looked a lot like courage…another 7 years to muster the courage to actually embrace it. Still scares the crap out of me. 🙂
I’m 42, so it sounds like our trains run on similar schedules.
Marcus, you’re welcome at my campfire anytime.
Awesome, because I have this 90-minute interpretive dance about s’mores that I’ve been dying to share, and then I’d love to share some of my stamp collection with you to see what you think of them, and we can make friendship bracelets, and, and…
J/k. Thanks for the invite – it’s always nice to know there’s a spot by the fire for me.
Marcus, this is a great piece. It’s very brave to admit your fears, and what you’re saying is really important.
It’s also a lesson to all of us to remember to consider people’s feelings when we’re voicing our own opinions. We’re all humans, with sensitive hearts, even the toughest of us.
I can’t wait to see what awesome things come from you in this new phase.
Thanks!
Thanks for writing this. It’s well-timed for some of the things I’m navigating right now, and it’s nice to hear I;m not alone in having these doubts about myself and these inhibitions about my writing. I’m glad you seem to have found your voice. I’ll see what I can do about my own.
Thanks, Erin. That’s the kind of connect I always hope for as a writer. I wish you well in discovering and sharing your voice.
in writing, unless I want to be a bland, forgettable writer, the only way to connect with some readers is to risk rubbing others the wrong way, and when the topics are sensitive, even risk being hated. I still don’t want to be disliked, hated, or rejected, and I for sure don’t want to hurt people, but isolating myself to avoid my fear hasn’t been very satisfying, so now I’m going the other way.
Completely agree with your thinking there, best wishes on the new course.
A good piece
It is a very good piece, Marcus. Your life, all our lives, are too short to live them small. Those frat boys….well, I’m glad they think their lives and their personalities are so perfect as to treat another person like crap. Groupthink. Ugh.
You are a good writer, a strong and thoughtful man. You have continually impressed me as a person and I’m glad we are GMP and FB friends. I look forward to meeting in person one day.
Thank you, Julie. The feeling is reciprocated, and I look forward to meeting you, too. Hopefully that will include getting the opportunity to see you perform! A word to the wise about “frat boys”. Although I have many negative memories of my fraternity experience and probably would have skipped it if I had it to do over, it was not *all* negative, and there were good guys, especially in small numbers where groupthink happened less. I’m not interested in rehabilitating the public perception of fraternities (or sororities), but if you’re not aware already, “frat” is considered a pejorative by those… Read more »
Yes. This is what it means to have the courage to be yourself.
For a lot of lifelong geeks, the turning point is deciding that society’s acceptance or rejection is unimportant… indeed, many go on to embrace it as a badge of honor, which has its own dangers of turning into arrogance.
Good point, and I have gotten more accepting of myself. I think not feeling liked can often be a sign of not liking oneself, but that hasn’t felt like my problem. I like myself fine most of the time, but the confidence gap is in expecting other people to like me, too. I think you’re right that a key to transforming from socially awkward geek to socially confident geek is to embrace those geeky traits and stop worrying about if they’ll turn some people off.
I’m with you there! I like myself just fine, but I know full well that “what I am” wouldn’t and doesn’t appeal to most of society in general. But that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.
The fact that a sociopath would say the same is troubling, however. Where’s the line between self-confidence and egomania, and how do you tell when you’re crossing it?
I guess if you think you’re always right and no one else can possibly have anything valid to add, you’re in the realm of egomania. It’s one thing to stand up for yourself and your beliefs—that’s self-confidence. It’s another to dismiss others and their beliefs.
Maybe you know if you notice you’ve stopped listening to others? (To be clear, I don’t think you’re an egomaniac!)
I think liking oneself isn’t really the defining characteristic of sociopathy, though sociopaths may have it. Maybe I need to check definitions again, but I think the key ingredient of being a sociopath is not caring whether you hurt, use, or disrespect others in the service of self. Sociopaths lack empathy, and don’t care that they lack it. I’m pretty sure that’s not an accurate description of me, and I’d feel troubled if it was, so I think that means I’m safe (from being a sociopath.) Egomania’s a little different, but I think in regular usage, it’s a label that… Read more »
Heh, that’s why we sometimes drink vodka and have discussions about polititians, ethics, religion and several other things. In vino veritas 😉
I know you said it with a wink, but it does raise a relevant point: alcohol is often used as a social lubricant. That’s one of the ways I’ve tended not to fit in. Before I turned 21 (i.e. during most of my fraternity years), I was one of those rare people who didn’t drink because it was illegal. I wouldn’t say I got much direct peer pressure to drink, but if you’re constantly one of the only ones not drinking at the many parties and functions, that tends to make you an outsider, and some among the group will… Read more »