Our culture of who can care less

Everyone wants to be the person who aced their final without studying.  The guy who hooks up all the time but doesn’t catch feelings.  The girl who you know but who doesn’t know you.  It feels like we’re all playing this game of who can care less.  Whether it be in our social or academic life, there’s a pervasive attitude on campus that makes  it cool not to care.  

It's a game I see friends play, and one that I've played.  And nowhere is it more prominent than in the college hook-up culture.  No one wants to confess that that they actually do like the guy they’ve been casually hooking up with for a while.  And when that guy texts them, they make sure to wait an hour before replying as to avoid seeming desperate.  

The game of who can care less permeates into other aspects of our lives as well, most notably Duke’s infamous ideal of “effortless perfection.”  No one wants to admit that that they didn’t ace the test they studied a week for, or that they got a B in the class that everyone else thought was easy.  It’s easier to pretend you didn’t apply yourself.   The excuse that you just didn’t care enough to do better is the defense mechanism against perceived failure.  Many of us are under the impression that if we don’t act tough, we are vulnerable.  Being vulnerable is being weak, and there’s no time to be weak at Duke.  The solution is just to play it cool.  Pretend like it’s not a big deal.

And I get it.  It sucks to put all of your effort into something and get nothing in return, or to care about someone who doesn’t care about you.  There is also a sense of coolness about someone who isn’t fazed.  We admire people who have the mental strength to block out unnecessary noise. 

However, there’s a line between not letting things get to you and not recognizing that it’s okay to admit you want help.   Last semester I had trouble finding that line.  I took a class that everyone said was supposed to be “easy.”   It was one of those classes that people didn’t take too seriously because the material wasn’t “too bad.”  It wasn’t long before I discovered that everyone else’s definition of easy did not align with mine.   Even after long nights of studying, I was never able to do as well as my peers who crammed the period before.  Ashamed, whenever people asked what my scores were, I instinctively reasoned that I did bad because I didn’t study.  I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I was putting in effort and getting little in return.  It was only after I brought myself to acknowledge that, yes, I did need to spend time studying things other people somehow already knew, and actually seek help from classmates and professors, that I was able to improve my performance.  So yes, I spent three times as much on studying for that class than most of my other classmates, and ended up with the same grade, but it doesn’t mean I’m any less of a student. Putting all of your effort into something is worth it and emotionally rewarding.  It’s satisfying to know that you gave it your all.  

At Duke I’ve experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  And I’ve learned that it’s okay to be vulnerable.  We learn the most about ourselves when we are vulnerable to our emotions.   That’s what being human is.  So, if you like someone, tell them.   If you put in a lot of effort to study for an exam, be proud of it.   If you are applying to an internship you really want, work as hard as you can to nail that interview and impress the recruiter.   It’s scary to give it your all and put yourself out there knowing you could get shot down, but it’s these moments that lead to some of the best experiences in life.  

Don’t let the game of not caring consume you.  Living in mediocrity isn’t nearly as fun as living passionately.  

Alicia Sun is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs on alternate Tuesdays.