It's one thing if extroverts don't see us, but it's even more tragic when introverts no longer see introverts. It's a chicken-egg problem: if there are so few of us, why look? If we don't look, we don't see. But does it matter? After all, we like being alone. Correction: we like being introverted. Yes, we do have the need for solitude, and we enjoy time alone, but we also like to be introverted in more public settings, and we relate in our own way. We enjoy a different conversational pace than extroverts, namely, one that allows people to think. We are moved by ideas, and make connections through shared interests. We love the comfort of hanging out when there's no pressure to talk. Half. More than half of us.
When we stop seeing introverts, we not only feel alienated, but we lose power. We don't like competing anyway, but if there are just a handful of us, it's just easier to adapt. The assumption of extroversion can prevent us from taking the risk—when it may not be that risky after all—of being openly introverted. And when we adapt and either pass as extroverts or stay on the sidelines, the extrovert assumption is strengthened and our power further erodes. Let's look a little closer at what we're assuming.
THE EXTROVERSION ASSUMPTION As we grow and adapt to American society, we internalize
As we grow and adapt to American society, we internalize the assumption that extroversion is normal and introversion is a deviation. Here's a quick sampling of some of the messages we take in:
• Parties are fun
• Being popular is important
• It's "who you know"
• Networking is essential to success
• It's not good to be alone
• It's important to be a "team player"
• Most people are extroverts
• The more the merrier
If we assume that everyone around us is extroverted, as our society leads us to believe, we naturally feel less comfortable in public settings. We may feel that we need to keep our introverted ways to ourselves and adapt while among people. We don't even pause to think that others might also crave a deeper conversation and a quieter room. When we go to an obligatory party, we assume that everyone else wants to be there. After all, "parties are fun!" Rest assured, any party with an obligatory component has invitees who are wishing they were elsewhere, along with some who have managed to be elsewhere.
In the American workplace, introverts often feel immense pressure to be extroverted. Whether spoken or not, we pick up the assumption that we're supposed to make friends at work. Introverts don't get this. We generally go to work to work. I can hear the protest, "But it's more fun to have friends at work!" Here is another extrovert assumption. Extroverts are energized through interaction. They are happy to create more friendships, because then there are more people to keep the interactions going—after work, on the weekend, at parties, and so on.
Introverts more often see the workplace as a place to interact with ideas. A friendly greeting is fine and good, but workplace chatter feels distracting and intrusive. And if we work with clients or customers, we may be all the more protective of our social energies. Yet, the extrovert assumption is so woven into the fabric of our culture that an employee may suffer reprimands for keeping his door closed (that is, if he is one of the lucky ones who has a door), for not lunching with other staff members, or for missing the weekend golf game or any number of supposedly morale-boosting celebrations. Half. More than half of us don't want to play. We don't see the point. For us, an office potluck will not provide satisfying human contact—we'd much rather meet a friend for an intimate conversation (even if that friend is a coworker). For us, the gathering will not boost morale — and will probably leave us resentful that we stayed an extra hour to eat stale cookies and make small talk. For us, talking with coworkers does not benefit our work—it sidetracks us.
Whether we are at work or at play, the extrovert assumption prevails and alienates over half of the population. Half. Not just a few nerdy recluses, but more than half of us.
FINDING INTROVERTS
Whether we want to make a new friend or not, it is crucial that we start to see "the other half " of the population. Just knowing our numbers—solid numbers that have been available for a decade but have yet to be known—changes our perceptions. It is very hard to argue that over half of the population is weird or somehow deviant. Be clear—we don't have to gather or, heaven forbid, have a big party to be strengthened by our numbers. We just need to know the truth.
But it does help to see as well. And once you know there are more like you out there, you'll notice things—like the fact that coffeehouses have popped up everywhere. Coffeehouses! Places where people read or write or draw or just chill. Quiet places. At this moment, I happen to be typing at a coffeehouse inside a large bookstore. There are eleven other people scattered among the tables and couches—even a little family with mom, dad, a little boy, and a baby—and no one is talking! I keep waiting for voices, and all I hear is the soothing background music. I am the most impressed by the family: the baby is sucking on a rattle; the boy eats his ice cream and then studies the scene outside the window; mom and dad read. When the boy eventually asks a question, the parents respond to him quietly, and when the baby starts to fuss, they get up and exit as if to leave the sleeping undisturbed.
But on their way out, an observer makes a comment about the baby and continues to deliver a monologue to the couple, loudly—a bull in a china shop. The young parents are clearly uncomfortable, and politely break away as quickly as possible. This place operates under the assumption of introversion. Most of the inhabitants are by themselves, and tables are small to accommodate intimate conversation, if necessary.
I have noticed that, when larger groups meet in a coffeehouse, they usually have something to do, such as reading and critiquing each other's writing, planning an event, reviewing the movie they just attended, or sharing a side-by-side activity such as knitting. It is a culture of ideas, and extroverts seeking a place to meet, greet, and mingle soon get bored and leave.
It is no secret that these introvert enclaves are amazingly successful, and the reason is as easily apparent. Half. More than half of us now have a place to be publicly introverted. You think it's the coffee? The people who primarily want the coffee take it to go. As I scan the room, only one of the eleven is drinking coffee—at least I think it's coffee: some dark blended drink topped with loads of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Maybe that person, like me, sees the purchase as a very reasonable rent payment on some prime introvert real estate.
I often do seek out places where I can do something solitary (reading, drawing, writing, handwork) but among other people, like coffee houses, cafes, or the library. I see a lot of people doing more of this now, and it makes me feel good, reassured that I'm not alone in my craving for time with myself without the necessity of conversation but in the presence of humans doing the same.
—Suzanne, who would like extroverts to know, "We're OKAY being introverts, and, no, we don't wish we could be just like them."
But let's say you're at a social event. Finding the introverts in this setting requires a bit more skill. You may find one or two on the fringes of the activity or outside getting air. Some will be locked in a group conversation, but you can tell they aren't really present—they keep glancing at their watch or the door. Unfortunately, many introverts are pros at holding a look of interest while most of their focus is directed inward. The best indicators of introversion are very subtle: a concentrating expression, a tendency to look off at nothing in particular—indicators that the person is thinking. These are the kind of hard-to-define expressions that artists love to capture in portraits.
Still others will be cloistered with a spouse or close friend, talking in hushed tones to signal to others, "this is private." The introverts generally leave early, energy drained, while the most extroverted gain momentum and stay until the end—and then are ready for the "after party."
A NEW ASSUMPTION Though common wisdom would
Though commo
n wisdom would suggest that introverts should connect by starting a conversation, we are discovering that common wisdom is not very trustworthy when it comes to introverts. Introverts work from the inside out, and the simplest and most profound way that we can connect is by acting like introverts. And we will feel freer to act like introverts when we know that others—many others—get it.
Start by carrying around the 57 percent statistic as you go about your day. As you look around you, keep in mind that more than half of us are introverted—half of the people in your neighborhood, half of the people downtown, half of the people on campus. When I was little, I got scared if I was awake while everyone else in the house was sleeping. I learned to comfort myself by remembering that there were other people awake, even though I couldn't see them: night shift workers, people flying to different countries, telephone operators. There is something powerful in knowing that you are not the only one holding up a certain kind of consciousness—the only one awake. Even if you can't see the others, knowing they are there helps.
Buoyed by the comfort of knowing that you have quiet, like-minded company, you can relax into your introversion. You can bring your power source with you. Perhaps you can even meditate—right in the middle of that big old mosh pit called America.
WHERE THE (INNER) ACTION IS
Perhaps the biggest challenge is to see other introverts when they are alone. I was recently watching the remarkable BBC video series "Planet Earth." I was able to view the rare snow leopard in its natural habitat, thanks to the solitary watch of the cameraman camping in the remote mountains of Pakistan. As I observed these speckled, sphinx-like inhabitants of the snowy mountains, I felt gratitude for the photographers who embraced solitude—one was on a three-year assignment—in order to bring me this vision.
Even introverts—you'd think we would know better—are prone to see the solitary introvert in a very flat and limited way: usually gaunt white guy, often in front of a computer, low in energy, malnourished, bored and stuck in some kind of repetitive activity or inactivity. When forming impressions, it is quite American to skim the surface, to surf and schmooze and sample. But to know the introvert, surfing won't do. If I had only seen the solitary cameraman in his hut, looking through his lens—there was some footage of this—I would have become quickly bored. But beholding what he was seeing gave me chills.
Let's go to Zurich, Switzerland, circa 1914, to observe another solitary soul. This man is a respected scholar who has abandoned his teaching at the university, because he doesn't want to continue teaching until he's figured some things out. He continues to see patients and attend to his family, but spends vast stretches of time alone, reclining and staring off into space, occasionally scribbling some notes. If we look just at the face of it, we may wonder why he's withdrawing, why he traded a prestigious position for this sitting around. We might be concerned that he's become socially phobic or depressed—or both.
This rising intellect was Carl Jung, and he was conducting an experiment, using himself as the sole subject. He used a process similar to self-hypnosis to submerge himself deeper and deeper into the unconscious, the part of the mind where dreams and fantasies live. His methods and discoveries are chronicled in his fascinating biography, Memories, Dreams, Reflections.
As a diver going beneath the calm surface of the ocean, Jung found a world teeming with life. He discovered what he called the "collective unconscious," a reality beyond the level of the personal unconscious that emerges through universal symbols and products of culture, from art to mythology. He even found a cast of characters—archetypes—Great Mother, Hero, Trickster, and the infamous Shadow, to name just a small sample.
For an introvert, a placid surface may be evidence that the introvert, to borrow Adrienne Rich's words, "has moved on, deeper into the heart of the matter." As with Jung, the exterior of inactivity may belie a vast internal wonderland. Seeing the introverts who are out of sight, and getting a glimpse of worlds they inhabit, asks more of us than a simple introduction.
Seeing an introvert means knowing there's more. It means looking for her ideas, her observations, her creations.
Introverts talk to us every day through their stories, theories, movies, technology, paintings, songs, inventions—the list is endless. For the introvert, conversation can be a very limited forum for self-expression. When a song moves you, a writer "gets" you, or a theory enlightens you—you and its creator are connecting in a realm beyond sight or speech. Not all of these expressions come from introverts, nor does every introvert's idea reach a wider audience. But connecting through the contents of the mind is the introvert's way.
You might take the time to find out who took the photo you so admire in a magazine; by the way, the photographers I viewed on watch (at different locations) for snow leopards were Doug Allen and Mark Smith. When you are stunned by what your cell phone can do, consider the person who designed the tiny circuitry. Start humanizing the ideas you hold and hear and read and see every day. And when you want to meet an introvert, try asking what the person is thinking or observing. A great question someone once asked me was, "How do you like to express yourself?" Reach beyond the surface.
This comparison [the introvert stereotype versus the real me] just shows me how complicated people are, and that they can appear like an introvert on the outside but every day surround themselves with wonder and mystery.
—Solveig, high school sophomore, who enjoys thinking and drawing in her room
MY SPACE IN CYBERSPACE
In cyberspace, the rules of engagement favor introverts. We can connect while remaining alone. We can read and write rather than talk. And we can more comfortably network with people who share our interests and ideas. Like the coffeehouse, cyberspace allows introverts to be alone more publicly. Introverts can post profiles, blogs, and videos without seeking an agent or a publisher. We can create or join communities based on even our quirkiest ideas. We can connect with other introverts enjoying the same playground. And we can turn it off whenever we want.
The computer is my introverted but sometimes intimate connection to the world of my choosing.
—Don, passionate about baseball, music, politics, religion, exercise, and the author's sister
This worried comment inevitably arises: "But that's no substitute for real relationships!" This concern makes sense if we're comparing an Internet chat to a sustained relationship with a partner or close friend. And it is true that an Internet user can invent a personality online. There is more freedom on the Internet, for better and for worse. But just as the Internet may limit relationships, it can also create, expand, and enrich them. Online dating is a godsend for many introverts who cringe at the idea of meeting someone at a bar or social event. Where else but cyberspace does the introvert have the opportunity to start in our comfort zone of written communication and talk later? How else can you defy geography and search widely for a soul connection? And because introverts can often open up more easily in a written message, Internet communication can also enhance existing relationships.
Though computerized communications may seem cold, the fact is, we're writing again—we're even writing with our phones! Though I still prefer the art of letter writing, it is an infrequent luxury. An email or text message offers a similar indulgence without the hassle.
Unless you're talking about sex, I'm not so sure that live is always better. It is part of the extrovert assumption to value interaction over inner action. Most introverts savor live time with a close friend, because they know there will be plenty of inner action for both of them. But much of what we call "social" in America allows for very little inner action. Emailing a friend or posting a blog entry will probably feel much richer, and help us feel much closer, than being up close and impersonal.
Chapter 5:
Meditating with the Majority: The Introverted Society
The first great thing is to find yourself and for that you need solitude and contemplation—at least sometimes. I can tell you deliverance
will not come from the rushing noisy centers of civilization. It will come from the lonely places.
—Fridtj of Nansen
Everywhere we looked in Japan, we saw calm and order.
—T. R. Reid
I recently watched a television interview of a woman who had been born into a cult. Having no other reality to judge hers against, she discussed how hard it was to find validation of her feeling that things were not right. Having to marry her uncle felt creepy, but everyone around her said it was good.
This woman's circumstances brought home to me the importance of self-validation—and of introversion. The introvert's habit of keeping "one foot out" of a given social grouping—whether it be family, community, or society—is a lifesaver, sometimes literally, when the group stifles or oppresses what the individual values.
As I look back, I kept one foot out of most places I inhabited. Since my formative years in rural Minnesota, I have taken up residence in various parts of the country, from the Rockies and the Sierra Nevadas, to East Coast cities, and on to my current home nestled in an Appalachian river city. Being somewhat of a vagabond—to the extent you can be one while getting married and raising children—I have made a hobby of studying the psychological nuances of culture. What I now also realize is that I've been looking for my home—a home that allows me to practice, rather than defend, my introversion; to, perhaps, allow both feet to rest inside. Like Goldilocks in the story of "The Three Bears," I have been looking for a place to sit down that is just right—the place that feels comfortable and allows me to relax into who I am.
Introvert Power Page 6