 Mural, Banksy Last week I heard about this thing called Approval Addiction (aka, fear of rejection), which is exactly what it sounds like. And as soon as it was spoken to me, I knew I had it. I have been avidly seeking approval from everyone in the outside world since the day I was born, and I have been using their approval to confirm my self worth. Now as children, I think we do this naturally -- we look to our caretakers for positive (and negative) reinforcement -- but at some point, we develop a sense of self, an identity, and we begin to know who we are and what we stand for apart from the expectations of others. But I never got there. I never stopped needing everyone around me to tell me I was okay in order to feel worthy, in order to feel safe. And being teased as a minority growing up certainly fed into my intense desire to belong, to look to others for approval, even at the expense of my own worthiness and individuality. But I don’t think this is a “minority” thing. I think it’s a human thing, based largely upon the relationships we had as children. How this translates into the present day is this: when I meet someone new, I am barely there. My body may be present, but my mind is scrambling, trying to figure out who you are and what you need from me so that I can play the role I’m supposed to play for the interaction to succeed. For you to approve of me. I might smile and answer your questions and appear gracious and friendly, but inside I’m a raging mess. I don’t hear anything coming out of your mouth (unless you’re asking me a question, and then I’m frantically searching my brain for exactly the right answer), which is why I won’t remember your name. If you ask me a question like who my favorite musician is, or the best book I’ve read this year, I just want to die. What do you want it to be? I want it to be that too. I want to impress you. I need you to think I’m worth this conversation, that I’m worth your time. And god forbid that I offend or upset you.
Blah blah blah, so I’m insecure. So what? Well, I have a hunch. My hunch is that my insecurity, my need for approval, is the reason why my chosen interactions are limited to either White people, or people of color who have assimilated into White culture, who are also within my socio-economic class. I can relate to them. I think I know what they want. I know how to try and make them comfortable, so that I can gain their acceptance. But all those people who look, speak, dress, act and appear to be entirely different from me? I have no idea what they want. I don’t know how to act for them. I don’t know what they want me to say. It can be excruciatingly uncomfortable. What if I do something terribly wrong? I want to run. And so… I kind of just stay away. I’m afraid, but not just afraid of them -- I’m also afraid that I can’t be what they want me to be. It’s not about them, and it’s not really about racism (or classism, or sexism or any form of active discrimination); it’s about being faced with something that I don’t understand, and it’s about my fragile ego. And here’s another hunch. I don’t think I’m alone. I don’t know how common my experience is, but I fail to believe that I am special in my need for approval (or fear of rejection), which in turn motivates me to create safe spaces around my daily interactions, which in turn prevents me from experiencing true diversity in my life, and keeps everything that’s happening in this country around race and religion and class and education and crime, etc. at arm’s length. This is not how I wish to operate. My wounded self is not just about me. This is about everyone. This is about love, and compassion, and peace, and humanity. If any part of this resonates with you, hear my plea. We must heal ourselves so that we can heal the world. We must do our own work. This is the time. If you’re feeling overwhelmed and helpless about the world outside, take a good look at what’s happening within. It’s not an easy place to start, but the journey will take us where we need to go. The world needs us now. |
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