Irony Becomes Her

Humbiliation

I just did karaoke for the first time. Sort of.

I don't even want to talk about the last time. It wasn't really karaoke, but it was the most humiliating experience of my life.

And that's what I want to talk about today. When I got out of high school and went far away to college, I resolved to be like my super-confident big brother and never be humiliated again. Most of the time I was successful, simply laughing at myself when I deserved it and sincerely scorning any negativity about parts of myself I personally liked.

But there was a chink in the armor: the classic "I heard you laughing before I saw you" comment. No matter who says it when, or how good-naturedly it is expressed, I still wince when people tell me that. For a woman with a deep wish to be known for gentleness and selflessness, being known as a good hearty laugher is devastating.

Can I explain why? Not really. But I can expound my theory of humiliation. We are humiliated when:

• a personal attribute of which we are ashamed is called to attention (e.g., laughing loudly)
• opinions we value have the potential to be influenced by misconceptions about us
• we have a particular object of envy and that object does or says anything noteworthy
• an accomplishment of particular pride is eclipsed by another (especially effortlessly)

This is not profound, but it does help me to analyze what I can do about it. The source of all of these humiliations is not set in stone. For one thing, envy and pride are traps about which we are warned over and over; whether we believe it or not, they are our own problem and no one else's. And the only opinion I need to value is the kind which cannot be deceived.

The personal attribute one is one for which I still can't find an answer; perhaps that is why it still gets to me. How can one banish shame when it is at least partially justified?

Perhaps, if you will permit me an arrogant comparison, this is meant to be the thorn in my flesh. It reminds me every day that I am not my own god--or at least I shouldn't be. If I may only choose humbiliation (truly thinking less of myself than of others) rather than humiliation (a sudden turn back to complete self-focus), I probably would benefit from the occasional loud laugh comment.

But no more karaoke. No.

posted by Lynn @ 8:29 PM