The same is true for introverts, of course: there's a latent extrovert in there. The difference is, those of us on the introvert side are more often encouraged to jump right over our first choice and rouse up the extrovert.
INTROVERSION INTERRUPTED
Perhaps there is no better way to feel the pulse of society's values than to look at how we raise our children. As a psychologist, I have yet to see a child brought in for therapy because he is too social and his parents are concerned that he seems to have little access to his inner life. Yet, child after child is brought in for not talking enough, only having a few friends, and enjoying time alone—for being introverted. To be fair, many of these kids have problems. But often, the problem is not the kid.
I grew up in a family of introverts. We read at the dinner table. My husband thinks we're wacked.
—Margit, North Carolina
Children today are largely raised in group settings, from daycare to preschool to school, and in their free time, we schedule play dates or push them to hang out with the neighborhood friends. In service of the "more is better" rule, parents strive to get more involved and see that the children are doing more. This ethic produces children who are monitored, structured, scheduled—and stressed. When a child says, "I'm bored!" we take this as a demand to entertain. Yet boredom is a necessary precursor to creativity. Children who cannot tolerate boredom and solitude become stimulus addicts, choosing the quick filler over the richness of possibility. When a child does seek refuge from overstimulation, retreating into solitude, parents are more likely to regard this as a problem than as a healthy way of recharging.
And when a child enters school, there is no place to hide. Schools have responded to intellectually gifted children who are understimulated in the classroom, but we have yet to respond to the overstimulated introvert. I see some of these children in therapy. They are not hyperactive or unfocused. They just find the classroom too noisy and are annoyed by the kids who are hyperactive or disruptive. These clients predictably propose a very simple solution: "If only I could study by myself, I'd be fine." One of the teens I worked with told me about how she loves to take tests, because it is quiet and everyone is occupying their own space. School administrators have allowed her to pass, despite failing grades, because of her record-high test scores. Yet they have made no accommodation to provide the quiet she craves. Some of these overstimulated children opt for the "dumb class" because at least there are fewer kids, some thrive in homeschool programs, and others find help through psychiatric channels. Most learn to do without solitude and adapt to the noisy environment, carrying that nagging feeling of homelessness that haunts many introverts.
[In solitude] I'm alone with my head. I feel liberated and I don't need to pretend anything for anyone.
—Cecilia, Puerto Rico
Each one of these solutions comes at a cost. Is it better to part with your introversion or to accept a diagnosis that allows you to have it as long as you see it as a problem? The introverted child's plea for solitude seems to be either unheeded or treated.
Then what happens when the child comes home needing to decompress? Many kids today run to a computer or video screen. I ran across an article from a 1996 newsletter from the American Academy of Pediatrics with the title, "Are we facing a generation of 'Internet introverts'?" The implication was that the Internet was creating introverts, an apparently dangerous outcome. Parents hearing such warnings responsibly pull their kids off the computer and tell them to call a friend. Sure, video games and the Internet can become a rut, but perhaps it's the only place where many introverted children can preserve some privacy and independence in their over-scheduled lives. If the child is seeking solitude, perhaps a better response is to limit computer time and leave the child alone.
Even introverts who find support often feel deprived. One such introvert is the daughter of a friend of mine. She's bright and creative, does well in school, and her parents allow her the freedom to pursue her solitary passions. This girl had the opportunity to take the MBTI, and when she read the results, describing her introvert preferences in healthy terms, she shed tears of relief. The power of seeing herself in this mirror, reflecting back the best part of her, was overwhelming. She saw herself, and she loved what she saw.
THE FEAR OF SOLITUDE
Though social pressures discourage being alone, we introverts also erect roadblocks of our own. We get busy, and the more distant solitude becomes, the more we avoid it. As we avoid solitude, the introverted part of ourselves becomes unhappy. We sense this inner grief, and we don't want to deal with it.
The reality, even for introverts, is that solitude is often unpleasant at first. The unpleasant sensation may be the surfacing of feelings we've been ignoring, or fear of "coming down" from the stimulation of our people-filled lives. This fear is common even when our people-filled lives are overstimulating. Being overstimulated may feel bad, but it's a bad that we're used to.
I had the privilege of attending a workshop on Time Shifting by Stephen Rechtschaffen, founder of the Omega Institute and frequent retreat facilitator. He observed that it is common for people to become depressed at first when they begin a retreat. Rather than catching the first plane home, he encourages individuals to allow the feeling, to let it rise and fall like a wave. Once they settle into solitude, they remember why they came and they find what they came for—and more.
I often have this experience with my writing. I sit down, expecting it to feel good right away. Instead I feel empty, bored, and wonder what ever made me think I could write. As writers learn, we do best when we stay with it, and sometimes staying with it hurts. But as I sink into the space of thought and imagination, the void becomes fertile, and the longer I stay, the more I want to stay.
I have never felt lonesome, or in the least oppressed by a sense of solitude, but once, and that was a few weeks after I came to the woods, when, for an hour, I doubted if the near neighborhood of man was not essential to a serene and healthy life. To be alone was something unpleasant. But I was at the same time conscious of a slight insanity in my mood, and seemed to foresee my recovery.
—Henry David Thoreau, Walden
THE COURAGE TO BE ALONE
Though the taboo against solitude presses against us, half of the population continues to declare our preference for introversion. It may take awhile, but introverts eventually catch a reflection and like what they see. And despite criticism within and without, we find ways to be alone. Whether we find solitude in the woods or in the anonymity of the city, in a library or a monastery, or simply in the comfort of home, we find it. And when we finally calm the din of fearful chatter and, with Whitman "inhale great draughts of space," we can declare with the poet:
I am larger, better than I thought, I did not know I held so much goodness.
Chapter 3:
Becoming an Alien
He is outside of everything, and alien everywhere. He is an aesthetic solitary. His beautiful, light imagination is the wing that on the autumn evening just brushes the dusky window.
—Henry James
Aliens.
Space aliens.
Illegal aliens.
People or "beings" from another world, disconnected and seemingly unreal.
These are common associations with the word "alien." If we look to science fiction, aliens are usually the invaders, or at least perceived as such. Illegal aliens are often seen as invaders of a different sort, coming to our country to partake of our resources. Aliens provoke interest, curiosity, and fear. Just as in the sci-fi movies, we don't often look at things from the alien's perspective—that is, until we find ourselves in foreign territory. It is then that we comprehend the feelings of vulnerability, confusion, and displacement that mark the alien experience.
Alienation is a psychological term for, simply, feeling like an alien—disconnected, weird, unreal. Diagnostically, alienation is associated with a number of psychiatric conditions, including depression, paranoia, and various personal
ity disorders. Alienation is different than aloneness. People can be alone and still feel connected—a particular talent of introverts. Alienation happens in society when an individual does not feel recognized. According to Jessica Benjamin, psychoanalyst and author of The Bonds of Love, "Recognition is that response from the other which makes meaningful the feelings, intentions, and actions of the self. It allows the self to realize its agency and authorship in a tangible way." Recognition is what you feel when a friend sums up exactly what you're feeling, when an author gives you the right words, when someone "gets" you.
From infancy, people serve as mirrors, reflecting back a clearer image of who we are. A baby develops a concept of self as parents instinctually mimic and respond to her. I still smile at the image of my baby in his high chair, delighted as he watched an entire table of aunts and uncles pound on the table in response to his gentle pounding on his tray. What power! As developmental theorists have observed, deprivation of early empathic mirroring can result in a range of psychological problems.
Even when we get the best parenting (and have genetics on our side) and enter the world with a strong sense of self, we don't stop using mirrors. As adults, we feel empowered and understood when we see our values reflected in society.
In an extroverted society, we rarely see ourselves in themirror. We get alienating feedback. Alienating feedback comes in the form of repeated encouragement to join or talk, puzzled expressions, well-intended concern, and sometimes, all-out pointing and laughing. Alienating feedback happens when we hear statements like, "What kind of loser would be home on a Saturday night?" Alienating feedback happens where neighborhoods, schools, and offices provide no place to retreat. Alienating feedback happens when our quiet spaces and wilderness sanctuaries are seen as places to colonize.
ALIEN SOCIETY OR ALIEN SELF?
When an introvert looks at society and sees no reflection, she risks becoming alienated, either by staying true to herself and becoming alienated from society—called social alienation—or by adapting to society and becoming alienated from herself—self-alienation.
Some introverts accept and even embrace alienation from society, and to the extent possible, drop out of the mainstream. These are the Shadow Dwellers, and whether they just keep a low profile or become openly hostile to the mainstream, you probably won't be seeing many of them at a "meet and greet" function. Shadow Dwellers often feel misunderstood and different, and may see the extroverted world as hostile and inhospitable (like how I felt during kindergarten recess). At the extreme end of this continuum, a healthy introvert may become a powerful activist, whereas a psychologically—or societally—impaired introvert might become consumed by paranoia and hatred.
Another too common response is to side with culture and to turn on ourselves, asking, "Why can't I just want what everyone else wants?" The Socially Accessible introvert looks like an extrovert on the outside and sees extroversion as a bar that he or she can never quite reach. These individuals are often very successful in social arenas, but fault themselves for not having more fun. This self-alienation is rampant among American introverts, as is the
self-interrogation—society's puzzled attitude turned inward. Alienation from self can lead to depression, which is, at best, a loss of empathy for the self and, at its worst, self-hatred. Let's look at the many introverts we don't see—either because they are in the shadows or passing as extroverts.
Won't you miss me at all?
—Syd Barrett, Shadow Dweller and founder of Pink Floyd, from "Dark Globe"
SHADOW DWELLERS: GOTHS, GEEKS, AND FANTASY FREAKS
Shadow Dwellers are the introverts that appear (if they can be seen) as reclusive and inaccessible—alien. These introverts often find their reflection in alternative communities or pursuits. "Goths," serious gamers, reclusive artists, writers, musicians, filmmakers, computer geeks, and fans of sci-fi, fantasy, and anime—to mention a few—are compelled by the inner life of the mind and the imagination. It is this quality that unites an "introvert subculture," even though individual members can be extroverted as well as introverted.
I am very much an introverted person. It's one of the main reasons why I wore so much black clothing during Jr. High and High School. The more I could make people afraid of me without even speaking to them, the more likely they were to not bother me.
—JJ, artist, graphic designer, and former Goth
If there were an archetype for the Shadow Dweller, he might take the form of a Goth. Goths are all about what's under the surface—yes, including death. An often-misunderstood group, the Goth subculture grew out of the Punk Rock movement of the late '70s. If Punk was the angry, extroverted side of anti-establishment, Goth was the sad, introverted counterpart. Most of us know Goths as those white-faced, red-lipped, black-shrouded kids who hang together and look depressed. What is easily overlooked about the seemingly death-obsessed Goths is that they are communicating an important message to society.
These "aliens" regard non-Goth people as "mundanes" (not to be confused with the "muggles" of Harry Potter's world). The Goth message to the mundanes is captured in the humanizing and often humorous book What is Goth? written by Goth author/artist/musician Voltaire:
The underlying philosophy of Goth is that our society is predominantly hypocritical. Goths hold that the "normal," "upstanding" members of our society who pretend to be "good" all of the time are in fact quite capable of doing evil. This is because Goths are often people who were victims of some kind of abuse—physical, verbal, or emotional—at the hands of these very same self-righteous folk...While Goths wear their spookiness on the outside and are largely harmless on the inside, mundanes keep their creepiness hidden, employing their socially acceptable pretenses as a disguise.
Goth philosophy reverberates with the theories of Carl Jung. According to Jung, all of the parts of ourselves that we reject go into the unconscious in the form of the Shadow archetype, while the parts we approve of become our face to the world, the Persona. If the persona is squeaky clean, the shadow will be pretty dirty. The more the shadow is denied, the more destructive its potential. On the other hand, an individual with a negative persona will have what Jung called the "white shadow." The cloistered, mild-mannered person we often find under the intimidating Goth persona is an apt example of the white shadow.
As Goth literature notes, the athletic, extroverted allAmerican is the accepted persona in American culture. If extroversion is the persona, introversion is the rejected, split-off shadow. And the Goth is its most dramatic spokesperson.
Goth is one of many introvert subcultures that share a preference for black, although there is a very colorful side of introvert subculture as well. Take, for example, the devoted fans of eye-popping, fanciful Japanese anime (animation) and manga (comics). This group captures the "preference for subjectivity" side of introversion that Jung also emphasized. When characters in these cartoons cry, a wild spray of water gushes from their eyes. When they are surprised, their already oversized hair shoots up in all directions. Though these fantastic images grab our attention, the genres actually encompass a broad range of themes, including science fiction, spirituality, mythology, horror, political commentary, and sometimes erotica, and are generally more psychologically sophisticated than American cartoons and comics. And if you've seen Hayao Miyazaki's Oscar-winning Spirited Away (2003, Best Animated Feature), you know the exquisite beauty these art forms can produce.
"I think I like the offensive sayings [on T-shirts] for the same reason I had my dreads, to get a rise out of people, or separate myself from the norm. To show I don't care what they think. I'm not afraid."
—Ben, who lists his values as "My music career, friends, family, being a good person"
The phenomenal success of anime and manga in the U.S. may soon disqualify the genre from subculture status. Since 1995, when Pokemon was the new kid on the block, anime has become a staple of kid's television. And, as in Japan, manga is attracting American adults as well as kids. According
to a Borders Books report in September 2007, manga is worth about $200 million in the U.S. alone. The paperback-style comics that read from back to front now occupy their own—very large—section in bookstores. According to Paul Gravett, author of Manga: Sixty Years of Japanese Comics, the word manga was originally employed by a Japanese print artist to describe the "looser, unself-conscious sketches in which he could play with exaggeration." Manga publishers regularly cycle in new talent to keep the sketches fresh. For a corn-fed American, the images come off as stark and often disturbing. The impact of these wild renditions on Americans perhaps parallels the way Impressionist art initially startled the refined French palate. Gravett notes that the cinematic quality of manga gives it a similar appeal to what Americans feel for movies.
Just as geek has become chic, and we look to computer introverts with a new respect—especially if he's the CEO of our company—society can no longer ignore the human need for fantasy—if only because it sells. As evidenced by the astronomical prices paid for Star Trek memorabilia at an October 2006 Christie's auction, the indulgence in fantasy is no longer child's play:
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