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My friend Andrea strongly dislikes another woman we both know. The first time she disclosed her feelings, I listened politely to her impassioned rant, then inquired why she felt so strongly about the other woman. The reason was that the woman in question was "fake."
Asked what she meant, Andrea elaborated that everything with this woman was an act. Everything she said, did, blogged, tweeted, was all posturing in the hope that she would achieve some kind of notoriety.
"What's wrong with that?" I asked. "Don't we all have a right to identify and attempt to achieve our goals? Everything I do, blog and tweet has a purpose, too, most of the time."
"But she's not genuine!" Andrea said. "You're genuine! You're so transparent and honest and open!"
"Transparency is bullshit. I choose how open I am and how honest I am about it. I'm an art installation. And so are you."
She tried making arguments to the contrary, but how could she? Debating how genuine someone is has to be as easy as debating what makes an object art.
KEEPIN' IT REAL
Nothing makes my hair stand on end more than people who claim to be "real," especially when this label is espoused at the same time these people decide to denounce someone else as "fake." I'm fairly open-minded about opinions, but I draw the line here.
You can call it a lie, an omission, a fib, poetic license –- whatever you like. We all do it, and the only time we have a problem with it is when the story we are told is wildly incongruous with our own reality. The truth is that lies have a terrible reputation and they really ought to be given more credit.
The importance of lying –- and I will make no distinction between "white" lies, outright lies, and omissions –- has been clear to me from a very young age.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," "How do you do?" "My sincerest apologies for being unable to attend," "Thank you so much for the [insert appropriate adjective and item]. I have always been so fond of [item-related activity]! I'm jazzed to try out your gift –- you're so thoughtful! [Insert reference to some past event involving the gift-giver, express a desire to see them again soon. Thank them again, sign off]."
All of these statements, verbal or written, were expected of me from childhood, whether they were were true or not.
I will never forget when, still young and not entirely socialized, a friend of my mother's stopped my mother and me in the park to greet us. I ignored the woman in favor of something else -- a flower, a lady bug. My mother gently reminded me to ask her "how do you do?" Both feigned some delight when I replied, "why should I ask, if I don't really care?" After the woman had departed, my mother had a word with me. That word wasn't about caring –- it was about pretending to care even when I didn't.
Etiquette, I understood then, is a script that, more often than not, relies on lies. Even kindness requires a degree of deceit.
Two years after the aforementioned incident, my hamster died during the course of a winter night. That morning, my father rushed out and bought me a new one. I knew it wasn't the same hamster, though it was also white, but I also knew my parents were lying to spare me the grief, and I lied about not noticing in gratitude for this gesture.
TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE
That's not to say I don't think truth, however unpleasant, doesn't have its purpose. Lies may be the backbone of polite society, but the whole thing about truth setting you free is absolutely true.
When I was ten, my family moved to a United States territory and my worldview shifted radically. I remember the first time I asked someone how they were and heard the response, "Not good." I found the confession absolutely beyond the pale, but more than anything, I was fascinated. The person with whom I was speaking was not well and she was really honest about it and, yes, it was a little uncomfortable to hear the details, but it was far more interesting than a ready-made response that quickly veered to the weather or some acceptable subject matter, and it gave me an incredible amount of perspective on that person.
Americans, it turned out, were rude, just like everyone always had said. But it was a really special kind
