It was my Sixth Grade camping trip. As my classmates and I made our way back to our cabins for the night, I was wrapping up the story of a near-collision in the dark woods (with a boy!):
"...And then he said, 'Sh*t, you scared the f*ck out of me!,'" I told the group.
Suddenly, the girl in front of me stopped short, disorienting me. When I recovered, I found myself staring into the beams of several flashlights, which spotlighted my face. Murmurs emanated from the darkness, until one girl's voice drowned them all out: "WHAT did you say!!!?"
At first, I was confused. I squinted into the glare, feeling as if I was in an interrogation room. My classmates had used similar language before...so what was the big deal? Why were they questioning me?
Well, the fact was that while my classmates were prone to trying adult language on for size, I wasn't... In all the time they'd known me, they'd never heard me swear. Not once. Their reaction wasn't censure. It was astonishment.
I later learned that they had made a lot assumptions about me based on how I talked. Everything from my beliefs to my preferences in music. They thought I was a snob, a goody-two-shoes, and any number of other things that were best kept at a distance.
But no-one had ever bothered to ask about it. If they had asked, "How come you never swear?," I probably would've answered, "I don't know, I just don't." Lacking another explanation, they just assumed that I was a stick-in-the-mud. Morality really didn't have anything do to with it - but they didn't know that.
They didn't know that they had a level of social flexibility that I didn't have. They could swear and tell dirty jokes with their peers, yet charm adults just like Eddie Haskell. I was not capable of this...or I hadn't learned the rules for it. I was the same with everyone - from the janitor, to my classmates, to the teacher. Behaving differently with different people didn't compute with me. It felt wrong, somehow. Like I wasn't being true to myself. I was just "me."
Unfortunately, that meant a difficult choice. If I was too formal with a peer, they might brand me as "weird" - but if I was too familiar with an adult, they could punish me. So, I was cautious, keeping to language that was "safe." Not too racy, not too familiar. Formal was best, if I didn't want to offend...
Having built a wide vocabulary through voracious reading, I loved to use it, which only made me seem weirder. Talking was my primary way of trying to connect with people...but not knowing "the rules" about how to have a quality conversation, I made up for it with quantity. It was the old "throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks" strategy.
Because misunderstandings were so common, I became very precise in conversation. If I meant "mauve," I said "mauve," not the more simple "pink." That wasn't specific enough. As tools of precision - expletives just didn't work. So I didn't use them. What did it really mean to say, "You scared the f*ck out of me?" How did it convey value any better than, "Wow, you REALLY scared me...?" I just didn't get it.
But, precision didn't necessarily fill the bill if it made me look pretentious. Language that is correct in form doesn't necessarily serve its purpose if it alienates the listener - which is what I later came to learn that my language habits did. It alienated them, because it was so different than theirs - and it made them believe that I was much more different than I truly was.
One afternoon, in history class, another girl struck up a conversation with me. What was I doing for the weekend? I responded that I was going to a rock concert. "You like rock and roll!!?," she said..."From how you talked, I just assumed you only liked classical music, opera and ballet and stuff..." Until that conversation she had had no idea that we liked the same music. Because of my odd verbal manners, she thought I couldn't possibly like the things she liked.
It would take a few years, and a few more experiences like this, for me to learn to consider my audience. I had to at least try to think like others: What language would best communicate what I was trying to say, in a way that both made sense and put my listener at ease? What would be meaningful to the person I was talking to?
There are many days when I wonder what would have happened had I not had these experiences. Would I have realized how my language, and manner of relating, was shaping how I was perceived? Would I have realized how different that perception was from who I truly was? If I hadn't realized these things, would I have fewer friends today? Yes, I think so.
Today, if I veer off into language la-la land, I have people around me who gently remind me to be less "professory." Just like my classmates did so long ago, they hold up a mirror that allows me to see the difference between what I am, and what I am portraying to the outside world. What I can't, or forget to see, on my own.
Because I don't think that I'm better than anyone else. And I never cared if people swore around me. But, my actions gave the impression of something else. That's pure communication breakdown.
It was quite painful being called out so publicly that night in the woods, but in the end, the alternative would have been much more painful. I'd much rather be aware of my mistakes - because it's only through being aware of your mistakes that you gain the ultimate power - the power to change.
