There's a well known psychological phenomenon known as the "spotlight effect," which claims, basically, that people are selfish, and that no one really cares about our perceived flaws as much as we ourselves do. Every person is in the centre of his or her tiny universe, so of course, any rupture to the tranquility of one's world results in [perceived] chaos. For example, there have been studies that prove that we overestimate how much other people really care about us. In the Thomas Gilovich study, researchers asked participants to walk into a crowded lecture hall wearing an embarrassing shirt. Every participant highly overestimated the amount of people who even noticed their shirt, missing the mark by as much as 500%! What does this mean, and why am I writing about this during my 3 am blogging rambles?
I guess I've been highlighted in a lot of photographs recently. As I've written in some previous posts, I'm quite self-conscious of my appearance (as many women are) but starting in January 2017 I made a new year's resolution to wear less makeup. In high school and university, I wouldn't leave the house without mascara, eyeliner, liquid foundation, powder, blush, and lipstick. For this whole year so far, I've survived the majority of my days with a thin layer of tinted moisturizer and some lip gloss. I also cut my hair because it would take too long to get ready in the mornings! So now I'm bare-faced, and I've got no mane of hair to hide behind. It took some adjustment getting used to seeing my naked face in photographs. Of course, the spotlight effect kicked in: am I not as pretty as I was before? Are people judging? The result has been: no, no one cares, and no one is judging. Everyone cares more about their own appearances and perceived flaws than they care about others, which is a sad but also comforting and freeing thought.
As a teacher, the spotlight is literally on me the whole day, every day. With the artificial classroom lights shining on my face beaded with sweat (it's hot in the classroom!), I can't say that I haven't had times of self-doubt. Not just appearance-wise, of course, but the fear of saying something stupid, or stumbling over my words, or forgetting someone's name, or swearing by accident, and the list goes on. The students count on me to be their guide, and they look up to me as a fountain of linguistic knowledge, which puts a lot of pressure on me. I have no choice but to stand up tall and exert confidence, or what sort of guide would I be? Sometimes feigning confidence acts as a sort of placebo, and will turn you into an actually confident person. I sort of feel like that's what's happening to me right now.
As I scroll through photographs, I see a person surrounded by friends, all of whom have their own struggles, their own wonderful personalities, and their own life stories. I have become less selfish, and have tried to step out of my narrow universe to have a glimpse into someone else's. It hasn't been an easy process, and I'm not there yet, but letting go of my makeup addiction was the first step. I'm not saying that makeup is bad, of course, but the personal reason of why I was wearing it was damaging to my self esteem. I am now free to invest myself, fully and willingly, to help and understand others. I feel sorrow or anger any time someone I know is bullied or hurt: perhaps this empathy is new, or I'm just free to feel it more intensely now. I feel it in my bones, the human need to protect others, to understand others, to crack the shell into their inner minds, to live a new and better existence, one in which the spotlight isn't all on me.
I guess I've been highlighted in a lot of photographs recently. As I've written in some previous posts, I'm quite self-conscious of my appearance (as many women are) but starting in January 2017 I made a new year's resolution to wear less makeup. In high school and university, I wouldn't leave the house without mascara, eyeliner, liquid foundation, powder, blush, and lipstick. For this whole year so far, I've survived the majority of my days with a thin layer of tinted moisturizer and some lip gloss. I also cut my hair because it would take too long to get ready in the mornings! So now I'm bare-faced, and I've got no mane of hair to hide behind. It took some adjustment getting used to seeing my naked face in photographs. Of course, the spotlight effect kicked in: am I not as pretty as I was before? Are people judging? The result has been: no, no one cares, and no one is judging. Everyone cares more about their own appearances and perceived flaws than they care about others, which is a sad but also comforting and freeing thought.
As a teacher, the spotlight is literally on me the whole day, every day. With the artificial classroom lights shining on my face beaded with sweat (it's hot in the classroom!), I can't say that I haven't had times of self-doubt. Not just appearance-wise, of course, but the fear of saying something stupid, or stumbling over my words, or forgetting someone's name, or swearing by accident, and the list goes on. The students count on me to be their guide, and they look up to me as a fountain of linguistic knowledge, which puts a lot of pressure on me. I have no choice but to stand up tall and exert confidence, or what sort of guide would I be? Sometimes feigning confidence acts as a sort of placebo, and will turn you into an actually confident person. I sort of feel like that's what's happening to me right now.
As I scroll through photographs, I see a person surrounded by friends, all of whom have their own struggles, their own wonderful personalities, and their own life stories. I have become less selfish, and have tried to step out of my narrow universe to have a glimpse into someone else's. It hasn't been an easy process, and I'm not there yet, but letting go of my makeup addiction was the first step. I'm not saying that makeup is bad, of course, but the personal reason of why I was wearing it was damaging to my self esteem. I am now free to invest myself, fully and willingly, to help and understand others. I feel sorrow or anger any time someone I know is bullied or hurt: perhaps this empathy is new, or I'm just free to feel it more intensely now. I feel it in my bones, the human need to protect others, to understand others, to crack the shell into their inner minds, to live a new and better existence, one in which the spotlight isn't all on me.
Comments
Post a Comment