« L’enfer c’est les autres » Hell is other people, Jean Paul Sartre wrote in his play No Exit.
By this, he didn’t mean that the presence of other people is insufferable, but that, should my relationship with others be tainted, then life altogether becomes tainted.
Sartre wrote extensively on what the other’s gaze does to someone.
In Being and Nothingness, he argues that without the gaze of the other, it is impossible to be aware of one’s self, since, only through the other’s gaze can one see themselves as object. Only through the other’s gaze can they see themselves from another perspective.
We see ourselves because others see us.
This is, according to him a necessary element to re-evaluate one’s self.
I don’t believe our era is any vainer that the previous ones, but I do believe that the social pressure surrounding the way we present ourselves has taken a different shape.
With social media, we aren’t only submitted to the gaze of people we encounter, but also to the gaze of complete strangers who live half the world away. All while being told “not to pay attention to what people think” in fear of becoming shallow, vain and superficial.
But according to Sartre, not paying attention to another’s gaze is not only impossible, but also not advisable. Foregoing the other’s gaze is also to forego our only tool at re-assessing who we are and who we want to be. How can we know the limits of our self if we don’t have a mirror to look at.
So no, paying attention to how people perceive you doesn’t make you an awful self-centered person.
I am very shy and quite very self-conscious and I have often been chastised by my friends and family for being so concerned with what people thought of me. I’d then feel guilty every time I didn’t do something because I felt too uncomfortable, admonishing myself to stop caring and just do the damn thing like everybody else.
This, as you might imagine didn’t really help my self-esteem. I’d either feel like a coward for not daring to do something or if I actually did the thing I’d feel like awfully uncomfortable and exposed, sometimes accompanied by a fair deal of feeling like a fraud.
On rare occasions I admit I would actually be glad I had managed to grab hold on my courage.
We live in a society in which being shy is seen as a flaw, an obstacle to overcome. The media is full of extraverts, of larger than life personalities, of people whose lives revolve around interaction and attention. Actors, politicians, influencers. Popularity and extravagance are qualities to revere.
We are being told to embrace our lives and live it to the fullest. And in those narratives, not doing something because it makes you uncomfortable is presented as a failure. As a missed opportunity.
Shyness, prudishness and general dislike for public attention are looked down as flaws. Introverts are often told to “open up”. Shy people are told to “learn to let go” or to “be brave”.
In short, those traits, which we perceive thanks to the reflection society presents us of ourselves, are seen as negative.
But what if we did “embrace who we are”? Embraced the shyness. Embraced the Prudishness.
We know society is biased towards extraversion, so the mirror in which we see ourselves is not impartial. It is biased, bent by society’s expectations and values. So, though the image that we see in it is useful, we need to be aware of its distortion.
Shyness doesn’t have to be a terrible flaw to be overcome, but simply a trait of your personality. Something to be claimed and respected.
We saw with the lockdown how relying on outside interactions to have a sense of existence can also be harmful. So why not embrace your shyness?
It took me a while to figure out how to do this.
To me, it boiled down to two things:
— figuring out what really made me the happiest
— feeling around my shyness and prudishness to figure out its limits and what I could tolerate.
The first step for me was to stop making myself uncomfortable by feeling like I had to overcome my shyness, by forcing myself to be outwardly and extrovert when I didn’t feel like it. We don’t all need to be under the spot light and I am actually glad to leave it to those who enjoy it. I am happier living a quiet unassuming life. It’s not very sexy. It’s not novel worthy. But all in all, that’s how I feel the happiest. It took a while to get rid of the idea that I was wasting opportunities.
Then, I learnt to say no to things I knew would make me uncomfortable, even if it would help my popularity or my image. If goes with the first step, but this one is more about resisting the siren call of well-meaning people who see shyness as an obstacle.
It took a while, but it actually helped me find out which of the people I called friends actually loved me for who I am and not just for who I forced myself to look like. People learnt to see me in smaller committee, not to pressure me into doing things I didn’t feel comfortable with.
And finally, I learnt to explore my shyness, on my own, and see how far I felt comfortable going.
It’s not that people’s gaze has stopped influencing me. It’s that I used it to re-assess my priorities and I am now much more at peace with the reflection people show me of myself.
So, do look at what people show you of yourself, and embrace it. Or change it. But don’t let it feel inadequate.
This article appeared in the fourth issue of Antigone, Seeing. You can read it here.
