Competition

This post is going to be a mashup of several different threads running through my mind lately. I don’t have a very good introduction, nor do I want to spend time on one. Let’s just jump in and see if anything useful coalesces by the end.

The first topic is academia. That’s the employment sector where I work currently and where I’ve spent most of my adult life – my many years of post-secondary schooling bleeding into the indentured servitude of a post-doc, and continuing from there. As many of my colleagues would attest, academics are mainly overachievers, a lot that is seldom satisfied on any measure of performance. We are walking careers, ambly taking research from the field into the office and from there into the bathroom. In only ten minutes, we can come up with research questions that would only take ten years to address, meanwhile scribbling out lists of critically important things to do that frankly (most of the time) may only ever turn out to slightly affect about three other people on the planet.

Many academics are perfectionists. A perfectionist is seldom satisfied; s(he) is always looking ahead to what item next requires perfection. There can be a momentary flash of happiness at the crest of a long-sought accomplishment, but the joy is often short lived, because the vanquished imperfection falls into obscurity as the next goal looms disproportionately large on the horizon. Friend: “Congrats, you just published your first research paper!” Brain: “But my lab mate has already published two!”

This has all been re-circulating in my mind lately as I was promoted to a new academic position this summer. That should be great, right? While there is some level of satisfaction, I’ve noticed an increase in my anxiety over the last few months. I seem to be easily reminded of Dr. Everybody Else has clearly published more than me and in much better journals. I think about the graduate students who finished after me and yet have already leap-frogged my place on the long academic totem pole to more prestigious positions. I realize that I am not that great at grant writing, that I haven’t come up with any groundbreaking discoveries in my field, and that I’m nowhere near the top of any of the myriad metrics academics invent to vault themselves to great positions of scholarly honor.

About seven to eight years ago I came face to face with this perfectionist in me. It was interestingly about the time I came out as gay and finally decided that I had had enough of hiding and ignoring who I am. We didn’t have any sort of major battle, but rather a tousle, and though there was no vanquishment of this foe, I at least took the first significant steps of acknowledging the existence of this formidable character and determining that he wouldn’t be the only voice allowed to cast judgment on my life’s circumstances.

The lifeblood of perfectionism is competition - with onesself and with others. It is both a sustaining fuel and poisonous liquid at the same time. In the complete absence of competition, the drive to accomplish, to push, and to improve is diminished. Achievement usually requires motivation. So it serves a purpose in that regard. Yet, under hypercompetitiveness, the fuel becomes poisonous, because no accomplishment is ultimately satisfactory. In a world of 7 billion people, it is almost impossible to become number one at one thing; it is truly impossible to be number one at everything.

Competition is everywhere is American society. It is manifest in couch potatoes jumping up from the sofa when their team scores a touchdown, it is present in the pressure the high school student feels to get accepted to the best colleges, it is in first class airline seats or platinum credit cards, it is embedded in stock market indices, and mad rushes to buy the cheapest gifts on Black Fridays that have now crept into Thanksgiving Thursdays. Capitalism is competition, and America really worships not God, but capitalism.

The second thread is social media and the on-line persona. For all the good that this decade-old revolution in communication has brought to modern society, there have been generous servings of ill too. In the compression of thought requisite in a Tweet, complex ideas are reduced to imprecise strings of words bereft of context. In tailored social media profiles, digital masks are worn that give incomplete or false impressions of the personality behind the mask. Poor behavior somehow seems more justifiable on-line, as if digital distance was somehow a license to eschew social responsibility. Friendships can be easily and instantly made, but even more rapidly terminated when one party decides to “block” another. Political divisions deepen as people collect around the more flambuoyant digital voices that have mastered the posture of contrived self-importance. Misinformation is given extra buoyancy and inertia as it circles the globe via electrons, freed from the old-fashioned constraints of evidence.

For most of us, our on-line personas are self-crafted caricatures. My profile doesn’t convey all of my personality, let alone those less-than-flattering photos that get quickly deleted from my cell phone. If you carefully read through a digital feed of my life, you are less likely find mention of the many failed job applications than the job that I finally landed.

These caricatures can have a corrosive effect on a number of really important things. For instance, they can erode self esteem, as when I fail to forget that my college friends do also have unflattering photos and failed job applications that I know nothing about in addition to their advertised successes. The digital distance also has the tendency to erode intimacy, a wonderful invention of social species that most of us want in some measure in our lives. Through social media I may gain a window into what a high school aquaintance who lives across the country likes to eat for Sunday brunch, but know nothing about real thoughts, feelings, concerns, and goals that motivate and guide this individual.

Next, anxiety. Lots of us suffer from it. In fact, this recent New York Times article discusses its prevalence as a mental health concern, especially the dramatic increase in anxiety among young people. We live in a time where there is a tremendous amount to be anxious about – health, safety, job, debt, career, terrorism, family members, climate change, rejection, politics, natural disasters, poverty, rapid technological innovation. Sadly, there is even motivation for people in politics or commerce to promote our feelings of anxiety – why not if it will garner votes or lead to more sales?

Looking back it is not difficult to see periods of my life when my anxiety has been more problematic than the annoying background hum that accompanies most of us. Graduate school was a definite one. Coming out was another. These were periods when I grappled with perfectionism. I still have anxiety about such internal matters. But as a token certificate for growing up a little more, there is also now anxiety about my children and family, about where society is headed, about really daunting environmental problems like climate change.

Is it a paradox that we live more comfortable lives than any generation before us, but are so racked with anxiety?

The final thread: self-esteem in the LGBT community. Most of us would describe the process of self-awakening and coming out at cathartic. Having been imprisoned to fear or shame for years or even decades, the act of casting that aside is liberating, an intimately personal act performed on a more public stage. It is a moment of self-determination and self-affirmation. But does the luster wear off?

As a collection of sexual and romantic “misfits”, many of us in the LGBT community have endured difficult and challenging experiences growing up. These could have included harassment, physical or emotional abuse, misunderstanding, violence. We have probably all been scarred, at least a little in the process. Coming into self-awareness notwithstanding, I think many of us carry forward an additional psychological or emotional burden that developed because of those formative experiences.

After coming out, do we carry those burdens into the LGBT community in unhealthy ways? Are we quick to judge or reject others in an unfortunate reversal of the mistreatment we ourselves have received? Can we form friendships and date in healthy ways? Do we avoid the social maladies that hurt others like ghosting (an inexplicable practice of suddenly pretending a date or friend no longer exists) or expecting perfection in a partner (knowing full well of one’s own imperfections)? Will gay men see the harm in endlessly competing with each other for more perfect physical bodies, greater “masculinity” (as if somehow the goal of being a perfect gay man is to nearly emulate a straight man in everything except the gender of your sexual partner), or a meticulously manicured social life designed to induce envy in others and mask an undercurrent of loneliness?

We continue to fight for equality in employment, housing, marriage, and just general treatment by society, especially given the unfortunate political setbacks we currently face in the US. In the midst of those external challenges, are we striving to improve interactions within the LGBT community itself?

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Where does all of this lead? Well, I think I’ve painted a picture of competition and comparison that is largely unhealthy. The excessive focus on competition and outcomes certainly can be debilitating for me. One key to any successful recipe is to keep the ingredients in balance. I wouldn’t want to trade in my ambition or motivation for laziness or ambivalence, but to paraphrase Darth Vader’s warning to the technical mastermind behind the Death Star: “Beware you don’t choke on your ambition”.

It takes a conscious effort to keep the tendency to compete to healthy levels. It takes significant mental labor to keep the unhealthy comparison to others at bay, especially when we are surrounded by messages of inadequacy from a hypercompetitive society. But it is necessary for sanity to remember that self worth isn’t measured externally (either by gay or straight people, or by friends, bosses, or peers for that matter).

On the career front, it is prudent to remember why I’m an academic. I love discovery. I love asking questions. I love thinking about how science can lead to answering such questions. I love being outside and in nature. I love seeing something in nature that perhaps no other person has ever observed. Maybe this is why my hobbies also tend towards being outdoors in my hours off work. I can be a student of biology again – hiking, exploring, photographing, and learning – with less pressure to turn academic study into some sort of business.

On the personal front, I need to remember that I am unique and (usually) likeable. I’m headed forward, and upward (whatever that means), having fun and adventures along the way. That’s enough for me.

Disarm

Sunday evening I attended a fireside given by Carol Lynn Pearson at the LDS Institute in Berkeley. A Mormon poet and speaker who was married to a gay man before his death, she is essentially the godmother of the Mormon LGBT community. In many ways I don’t consider myself Mormon any longer, but the Church was an important part of my life for many years and for both good and bad, it has left deep influences on me.

Carol Lynn read from, and spoke about, a short book she produced recently that is an allegory for the gay person who travels through Mormonism. Her allegory was structured after the hero myth articulated in literature from ancient times to the present. Concisely, the myth centers around the hero who leaves his or her tribe on a journey of discovery. Propelled internally to seek something more, the hero leaves the tribe for an unknown destination. Arriving in an unfamiliar place, he or she struggles and must choose to confront self doubt – the voices of defeat.

One symbol of the struggle is the sword – a weapon that could either be turned on oneself for destruction or that could be used to destroy the self doubt that brings darkness. Though not all people on the journey will necessarily gain the liberating self confidence they need, those that pass successfully through their own personal transformation could then chose to return to their tribe of origin to share their new understanding. The hero was transformed, and members of the tribe, also each on their own journeys of enlightenment, could be transformed too.

I’d like to share two points that impressed me from Sister Pearson’s words. The first was a simple concept – it was her advice that LGBT people strive to be so confident in their path, so fully at peace with themselves that others around them, no matter their views on sexuality, could not help but be impressed. In essence, to help change the culture of the tribe, the gay messengers have to be completely transformed themselves.

Her second point, surely more difficult than the first, was that to be successful the hero needs to return to the tribe disarmed. This was an admonition for forgiveness, for peace with those who may have intentionally (or unintentionally) wounded another. I think most gay Mormons could rightly say that they have been wounded by a Church (and a society) that at times acts more as an enemy than a refuge. But for the wounded gay person to find happiness and wholeness, forgiveness is required. 

I confess that right now I am not yet at such a place with respect to the Church. Perhaps I feel betrayed in a sense (and not just by sexuality, but by conflicts with history and science too). I feel sad that Church culture and doctrine are still such an unhealthy place for many gay Mormons. But moving beyond those negative feelings it is a worthy goal and the direction I want to go over time. When the sword of bitterness and hostility is tossed aside, again the tribe cannot but be impressed with who the gay hero really is.   

As I left the fireside meeting Sunday evening and began to browse social media on my phone, I quickly saw that two good gay Mormon friends of mine had just become engaged to be married. Since they’ve been dating seriously for several years, that wasn’t unexpected, but learning of the news really filled me with happiness for them. As we’ve talked over the years, I’ve come to know some about their own personal struggles of self acceptance, family acceptance and journey through Mormonism. So, it is wonderful to see them in a place of happiness and fulfillment. I feel a tinge of jealousy too when I learn such news - a happy same-sex relationship is a significant dream of mine. But I mostly feel happiness for my good friends, and I wish them the very best in the future.

As Carol Lynn noted Sunday evening, our tribe (Mormonism) doesn’t make it easy for us. Almost simultaneously coming out as gay, leaving the Church, navigating raw emotional experiences, and working through changing realities in a mixed orientation marriage is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. In many ways gay people are not heroes. We are ordinary people with the same fears and need for love and acceptance as anyone else. But we go through an unusual journey, one not shared by most people in the world. To pass through that journey, emerging with greater self acceptance, maybe a partner at one’s side, and love in one’s heart is the best possible outcome for LGBT Mormons. 

Outside and inside

I often feel like a little bit of an outsider no matter where I am. I usually spend most of my time around straight people though I am gay. I’ve only recently begun spending time with gay people, but I’ve already noticed that I’m definitely going to have more to talk about with gay guys who like things like backpacking and soccer and science more than things like musicals. I’m usually drawn to nerdy things, but I also am bothered by the ‘I’ve got it all figured out’ attitude that some very learned people seem to carry around with them. I like spirituality and contemplation, but I definitely feel like an outsider in the LDS Church these days since I am generally more liberal, more analytical, and more personal in my religious expressions than the Church’s median cultural environment.

This is definitely not all bad. I really like the fact that I can fit in to some degree with people in different social circles. I learn from others. And I gain a broader perspective by observing diverse groups of people. Perhaps all this encourages me to be a moderate in many areas of life: politically, socially, and spiritually. But sometimes I wish I could fit in more, that I could create deeper connections with people that I admire. It is very rare that I have felt I am on exactly the same page as someone else.

Perhaps the fractured nature of my social interactions mirrors the person inside me. My identities are varied and don’t all fit together like one of those cute little puzzles that my daughter is a whiz at. These identities include being a scientist, being an outdoors enthusiast, being a husband and father, being gay and being a Latter-day Saint. These disparate identities involve some conflicts. I presently don’t know how to satisfactorily reconcile one of these conflicts (the gay-husband conflict), though by distancing myself from the Church I have felt more at peace with the friction generated by being gay and LDS and by being  LDS and a scientist.

I’ve lived with the existence of several identity conflicts for some time, but recently I have wanted more resolution. In a way, the conflicts have left me exhausted. I would like to feel that I am a relatively whole and integrated person, that the important pieces of who I am do not significantly abrade each other. I’d also like to be perceived by others with a reasonable degree of constancy – for example, that those who know I am LDS also know that I am gay, and that those who know I am gay also know that I value the ideal of being a good father. Now that I am open about my sexuality, maybe people will have a more uniform view of who I am, and also be able to see all of the major sides of my personality. However, I also need to be prepared to accept that greater resolution of the conflict between my disparate identities may involve some uncomfortable changes or some compromises. These are presently unknowable aspects of the future. Being more open may also put me in some uncomfortable (or possibly unsafe) situations, but my friends and family have been very supportive so far.

Where did all this trouble come from? How did I get to this place, a place where I have been reasonably successful at much of what I’ve attempted to accomplish in life, but a place where I feel very divided and uneasy internally?

Here are a couple of speculations that may characterize a lot of gays (like myself) who have spent a significant amount of time suppressing their sexuality:

Many gays learn to become masters at compartmentalizing different features of their lives, experts at managing multiple realities or multiple versions of their life story. In most individuals this tendency develops fairly early in life, as soon as it is realized that (1) I am different from others of the same gender around me, and (2) who I am attracted to is going to cause me ridicule, harm, or alienation. Many young gay people quickly learn to hide the attractions, mask or avoid any behaviors that might clue someone into the existence of the attractions, and essentially begin the process of living a separate external reality from an internal identity. Individuals might learn to avoid certain mannerisms that are stereotypically associated with being gay. I remember worrying for a long time that people might think I was gay because of the tone of my voice, especially when I heard it on the answering machine and it sounded so different from what it sounds like to me!

Separating the external and internal identities requires vigilance in order to keep hiding the sexual orientation and, in an interesting way, can lead to a very admirable degree of self control. But there are clearly negative effects. To manage the dual identities, some people may resort to deception. I rarely, if ever, had to lie about my sexuality (because I can only recall one time in college when I was ever directly confronted about being gay), but I certainly was not honest in the sense of telling the whole story. One “advantage” of becoming married was that I had a nearly unassailable shield from being perceived as gay; that perspective seems pathetic now, but it was reflective of my desperate attempts to dissociate myself from anything gay years ago. When I was around others who made homophobic comments, I acted the part by laughing along, though anyone who was observant enough probably could have seen that I didn’t laugh as intensely or genuinely as others. These were all manifestations of deception that I regret.

There are more subtle but potentially equally damaging effects of living dual identities to repress homosexuality. One is the inability to draw close to others emotionally. Unless gay persons can feel safe revealing their sexual identity to trusted individuals, there will always be at least some barriers in terms of feeling comfortable and safe around others. A very core part of the self is decidedly off-limits emotionally; for instance, it cannot be a source of shared vulnerability that helps bind two caring souls together. After coming out, it is possible that this deficiency will linger for some time in developing or existing relationships, because a gay person has developed a pattern of keeping a significant part of who they are secret.

Another potentially damaging effect of dual identities is the toll that suppression can take on self esteem. There is the failure to arrive at internal peace and mature towards confidence in oneself. There is little faith in the internal self because the mind is set on confirmation of the constructed external identity. There may be a very cancerous feeling that something about you is wrong or undesirable or debilitating, but without any solution or reprieve.

Many gays eventually break this uncomfortable duality, but ages at which this is accomplished vary tremendously and there are undoubtedly some who go to their grave never letting a single soul know that they were gay. I really admire those who are able to accept their sexuality at a younger age than me! Today I think many gays are breaking this duality at an earlier age than ever before, because society is finally beginning to develop a more mature, thoughtful and respectful view of the homosexual experience.

“Coming out” involves the joining of these fragmented pieces, an affirmative decision to let external appearances flow from internal identity. Coming out can expose the difficult identity conflicts that a gay person may have accumulated over the years. While I am much happier presently because I no longer feel compelled to hide my sexuality from those close to me, trying to incorporate my newly found perspectives into my broader worldview has brought other conflicts to the forefront of my mind. In an almost tangible way I wrestle with these daily. I still have lots to do in order to feel reasonably integrated, whole and complete. My hope is that, for my own happiness, I can reach a place where identities do not significantly clash, and that, for the well being of close to me, I can do so in ways that minimize negative impacts on others. These goals often seem irreconcilable, but I have to try.