I have a problem where I can rationalize that my insecurities are unfounded, yet I cannot bridge the gap between rationality and acceptance.
Let me explain. I am insecure about my intelligence. I can see that I am at Duke, an elite university, and this is a good sign that I am not stupid. I am not failing any classes at Duke, another positive indication that I am at least somewhat bright. Sometimes people praise my intellectual accomplishments, this column being one, and that again, signifies that my mind is capable of producing some smart, worthwhile ideas (some might even say intelligent). All of these things I rationalize to be true. They are objectively correct. And yet, I find myself rebelling against them.
Simply put, I am unwilling to accept I am intelligent. My mind is sneaky about disregarding these objective facts. I think to myself, “Oh, I was one of those students who slipped through the admissions cracks, and I’m not really supposed to be here. They made an exception for me because they felt bad, or one stellar component of my application made up for the lackluster of the rest of it.” And I’m not failing because I’m not taking crazy hard classes, like all those smart, smart Pratt stars seen at Perkins in the wee hours of the morning. Good, old-fashioned social comparison is a key instrument in my tool chest for downplaying the objective facts. If people praise me, they are just being nice because we are friends or they were trained from a young age to be nice in order to reap a social benefit. People want other people to like them, and at this point, niceness is habit—people didn’t actually like my last column. So, really, how could I be intelligent?
Every good thing I do or am comes with a footnote or asterisk explaining that well, yes, this might be right, but we aren’t looking at the whole picture. The whole picture, as I see it, is a version of me devoid of the good qualities those objective facts seem to hint at.
Surprise, surprise! I’m not the only one I know who does this. Maybe the best sign of how smart we are at Duke is that we can take all these cold, hard facts about ourselves and turn them into a great debate ending in their demolition.
This analysis makes me wonder why some students feel such a need to rebuke any compliment the world might send their way. Are we scared of being arrogant? There are certainly some people at Duke who tout their accomplishments with unabashed pride, and not always pleasantly. Are we frightened of our own future success, that admitting we are talented means entering a bigger arena where failures are cataclysmic compared to the small ones we suffered previously? Maybe so.
Compliments are like little pin pricks in the balloon that is my self-conception. Too many and the balloon will pop. If I let in the indications that I am intelligent, talented, funny, etc., then I would have to overhaul my self image. That sounds scary and labor-intensive. It’s much better to stick to my self-effacing guns and know that I am of average intellect at best; that my talent is just circumstance and luck.
Admitting that one is in possession of admirable qualities means shouldering the potential for failure. If you are not smart, bad grades are but a confirmation of already apparent stupidity—nothing to sweat. But if you are bright, bad grades mean something is wrong. To a bright Duke student, probably terribly wrong. So it’s awfully convenient to convince yourself that whatever nice things people say about you or objectively positive accomplishments you have are invalid. That way, when things go south, you don’t sink as low. Failure is a threat to an identity based on success, so it’s easier to create an identity predicated on inadequacy.
But the objective facts are, after all, objective. I am not without faults. I have a nice long tally of my faults stored up for when I start feeling too good about myself. But not everyone is a liar all the time. Some of those people who compliment my column, perhaps even all of them, genuinely mean it. I have to contain some positive traits somewhere in my being.
If you are one of those people who brush aside any notion of your worthiness, maybe it’s time to stop. You are good enough: probably not perfect, but good enough. You are not arrogant for thinking it, and your back is strong enough to bear the burden of possible failure.
Because I don’t like this status quo. I don’t like how it feels to have bruised self confidence, and not because someone else punched my ego, but because I initiate daily beatdowns myself. I do not want to be scared of the hints that I could be a positive addition to the world.
So the next time you conjure up excuses, asterisks, maybe even a frying pan to beat on the heads of objective facts, know this—the world wants to delight in you, if you will only let it.
Camille Wilder is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs on alternate Thursdays.
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Camille Wilder is a Trinity first-year. Her column runs on alternate Thursdays.