In the late 1960s, the anthropologist (人类学家) Edmund Carpenter arrived in New Guinea armed with mirrors, videos and Polaroid cameras, and a mission: to disrupt (扰乱) the minds of members of the Biami tribe, who had never seen full reflections or images of themselves. "After their first astonished response—covering their mouths and ducking their heads—they stood frozen, staring at their images." Carpenter's devices disturb that inner image, causing discomfort. But not for long. Within days, the villagers groomed (打扮) themselves openly before mirrors and began taking Polaroid shots of each other.
It's unclear if the People of Biami were really as unfamiliar with mirrors as Carpenter thought. But in any case, what's striking isn't how strange their reaction seems, but how related. Do you know how it feels when you make a pleasant remark in a lift, but nobody responds? Or when two people greeting each other misjudge whether to go for a handshake, a hug or a social kiss? That's the same awkwardness: "self-consciousness tinged (带有) with uncertainty", as Dahl defines it. Suddenly, I see I'm viewed not as a friendly conversationalist, but as a strange person who talks in the lift.
As awkwardness feels unpleasant, it's natural to want to overcome it. Dahl's initial motivation for writing her book Cringeworthy: A Theory of Awkwardness, was to get over her own awkwardness. But after a journey through various awkward experiences, she makes a persuasive case for celebrating it. We live in an era with more opportunities than ever to do so. But awkwardness breaks that false appearance, exposing the imperfect life behind it. It creates a strange kind of social bond—how much in common we have when seeing that behind the disguise —we're all just trying our best to seem perfect.
The awkward you, then, are the real you, the one without the defensive performance. Dahl even indicates that taking a friendlier attitude toward awkwardness might help us make the connections with people holding different ideas.
