The Mortifying Idea of Being Know
Curiosity and fear can not exist at the same time
A professor I know spoke openly and honestly about how he was feeling today in light of all that’s happened around colleges in the last week. How he was afraid of the students, because quite honestly, he said he didn’t want to get fired. He then asked some of us what we thought the good of college was. It was an interesting question. The idea that not everyone is there for the same reason. He thought college was supposed to be about curiosity. How in his classes, he tried to promote curiosity, and how curiosity and fear can not exist at the same time.
This is an interesting time to be entering the world of academia. Will I end up being a teacher or professor when this is all said and done? Only time will tell. Do I feel afraid? Not in the same way my professor does because, at this point, I have other options. But I understand lots of people don’t. Do I want a low paying job where curiosity is shuttered by fear? Probably not. But damn, won’t it be a terrible world when all the other teachers in this country figure that out?
Heather Cox Richardson (of course) said that she felt she was merely the translator for sentiments shared by millions of people. “Your steadfast interest, curiosity, critical thinking, and especially your kindness—to me and to one another—illustrate that we have not only the power, but also the passion, to reinvent our nation”. While this might seem idealistic now in light of the mammoth waves pushing against democracy, the way to where we are now to where we ought to be is clear.
We have to keep speaking honestly and listening with curiosity.
Right now, I am trying to look at people with political blindness. Show me who you are as a person without the political speech. Without the bumper stickers and the hashtags. Don’t regurgitate what you hear someone else say (thought clearly I just did that above lol.) Tell me your hopes., your dreams, the things you want out of life. Tell me about the things you know and ask me about the things you don’t understand.
I know this is an unpopular opinion, but it’s one of the reasons I’m not partial to tattoos. I’ve always thought it was more important to show someone who you are rather than telegraph it on your skin. Plus, tattoos don’t allow much room to change your mind or regret or reevaluate. In grading assignments this week, I realized just how different I am from the bulk of the students here in politics, age, and religion. First off, EVERYONE has a tattoo. Secondly, as much as I love the intellectual comfort of a private institution, what being at a large state school is reinforcing to me is that I don’t want to be in an echo chamber where everyone thinks the same way I do. I love getting pushed out of my comfort zone and getting exposed to new ways of thinking. But don’t get me wrong, I do want to be in a place that allows people to express their opinions without fear, even if they differ.
In the conversation with the professor today, somebody brought up the “mortifying idea of being know”, a concept first put forth by writer Tim Kreider. “If we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”
I believe most people don’t want to be known, even to themselves. It’s why making art is so difficult because it means putting your heart on display. It is mortifying to be seen for who you really are. It’s why people cover themselves in tattoos or take on political ideology or religion as gospel. To have some control over the person the world sees.
Again, I think about what a good friend told me a long time ago…
Being like everyone else is easy, it’s being yourself that’s hard.
That’s one of the good things about ADHD. It’s really easy to be yourself because you are too busy talking to the million and one voices in your head to bother with what everyone else sees. Despite my lack of shits, at night when the weight of the day begins to wear off, the real real real me comes out. She makes cringy jokes that drive my husband insane. She dances and sings. She is so desperate for affection that sometimes she climbs the walls (literally). She gets anxious about everything and overthinks and overthinks and overthinks. Sometimes, she is impossible to be with. She passes judgement. She makes cruel jokes. She thinks the world is out to get her. She doubts. Plus, she farts, a lot.
Still her husband loves her. She knows she is one of the lucky ones.
Why am I talking about myself in the third person? Who knows. What I do know is this. Despite what is going on in the country, stay curious. About the world. About each other. Speak out when you can. I know that sometimes you can’t because you need to keep your job and feed your kids, but when it really matters, promise yourself you will speak up. And for God’s sake, fart when you need to.
Because we all do it, even if we act like we don’t.