I suppose one could say it starts with a bite. A bite so painless, so undetectable one would not even be able to tell he was bitten at all. The seemingly harmless bite that changes a man's life - slowly but surely, gently but progressively, inconspicuously but insistently.
The introduction of something so destructive, so soul-destroying, so infectious is marked only by this bite - unseen and not sensed by man. He could have been bitten at a young age, long before adolescence or as an adult, after having lived peacefully and without conflict. Most will fall prey to this deadly virus early in life and learn to cope with it - almost never thriving, merely surviving. Some - the lucky few - struggle against it painfully and win the battle against it, and some just struggle sans victory.
We see it everywhere, examples of it flood the mind once acquainted with this ailment. Anybody and everybody has fallen prey to it. The way none of you move when the fire alarm goes off in your office building because you do not want to look like the panicky imbecile who jumped at nothing. The way you immediately feel self-conscious when you are the only one who showed up to a fancy dress party in an actual fancy dress. The way you made choices in life because you knew it would provide security. The way you did not step up to the plate because you did not want to be the only one who pursued a career in baseball even though you knew you were quite possibly the best. The way you chose the partner your mother approved of and not the one who made your heart soar. The way you changed who you really are so you could fit in. The way you sacrificed your hopes and dreams so that you could belong. The way you left behind all those amazing qualities you had because it did not help you become a functioning member of society.
This sickness, this disease, this life-destroying debility only becomes pronounced when it is drawn to your attention - and it is always brought to your attention in the most vicious and violent manner. As abrupt as a slap in the face and as shocking as a fatal car crash, it almost always manifests itself with the worst kind of symptoms. Sudden uncontrollable sadness, inconsolable dismay, hopelessness, a loss of self confidence, doubtfulness, faithlessness and every other unimaginably sorrowful emotion are symptoms of this disease. The bite that actually was indoctrination brought about the sickness that is conformity.
Conformity. Compliance. Acquiescence. Obedience. Abidance. We are so wrapped up with what is "in accordance with socially dictated norms" that we do everything and anything to destroy our very own personalities. Some are victorious by means of brazenly going against socially prevailing standards, some live consciously knowing that they have conformed and have made peace with and some are like Sarah, at a point in life where somewhere, somehow, something is attempting to control what she should do, say and think. Now the case below may not be an absolutely accurate example of the horrors of conformity, but it is real and it is true - which makes it pretty much on the money.
Recently, Sarah wanted to apply for a job. The advertised position appeared benign and open enough. Liberal even. Her heart stopped when she read the online job description - it was almost as though it was written just for her, only for her eyes. She immediately thought this was the one. The one job that will allow to be "her" while an income is generated. She was sadly mistaken. 'Sadly' being the key word in that last sentence.
She contacted the appropriate employers and they sent her an application package. 'Package' being the key word. There is such a thing as selection criteria which is an attempt to cut out the unqualified, inexperienced and unprepared. You are meant to address each selection criteria with specific, detailed examples. While she can respect that this is a means of decreasing the selection pool and increasing the chances of finding the most 'superior' candidate, she is shattered by the realisation that she is supposed to mould herself, her skills and her personality to fit the description of the 'ideal' candidate.
She is required to conform. She is required to say - even perhaps lie - that she is exactly what they are looking for. She is supposed to add shiny embellishments. She is supposed to be somebody she is most likely not. This narrowed, highly specific selection criteria has brought about the need to conform, and it is not sitting well. Rather than say "show us what you have and we will see whether the job suits you" they say "this is what we want and this is who you need to be for the job" and she is completely shattered.
Why have we given in to conforming? Why have we succumbed to it? Why are we so unhappy? Everyone says they made the choice to give up their dreams yet constantly regret them. Petulant as it may sound, she does not want to conform. She does not want to mould herself to be the 'ideal' candidate. She does not want to lie or embellish, she wants to be given the chance to prove herself and what she is capable of. She wants an opportunity. She wants the fortune of being chosen for a job that suits her and not the other way around.
She refuses to compromise and conform, she is sadly not the ideal, superior candidate. She is not the right 'package'. She probably never will be. When did we stop being individuals and when did we start losing ourselves for the sake of an income? We apply for jobs that we renovate ourselves for, instead of creating or finding a job that is built for us. A job will be chore if it is not the role we are best suited for and lifetime of doing something society says is best for us will be the death of us. She is sad, she feels doubtful and hopeless yet she knows that she will wake tomorrow morning and do something that confirms that she is in fact still her. She will fight against the sickness that is conformity.
She is lucky, isn't she? She felt the bite when she was told that she has to fit into certain dimensions. She feels the symptoms, but she will not live with this disease for long. She will win against the sickness that is conformity. She is lucky. Luckier than you.
The introduction of something so destructive, so soul-destroying, so infectious is marked only by this bite - unseen and not sensed by man. He could have been bitten at a young age, long before adolescence or as an adult, after having lived peacefully and without conflict. Most will fall prey to this deadly virus early in life and learn to cope with it - almost never thriving, merely surviving. Some - the lucky few - struggle against it painfully and win the battle against it, and some just struggle sans victory.
We see it everywhere, examples of it flood the mind once acquainted with this ailment. Anybody and everybody has fallen prey to it. The way none of you move when the fire alarm goes off in your office building because you do not want to look like the panicky imbecile who jumped at nothing. The way you immediately feel self-conscious when you are the only one who showed up to a fancy dress party in an actual fancy dress. The way you made choices in life because you knew it would provide security. The way you did not step up to the plate because you did not want to be the only one who pursued a career in baseball even though you knew you were quite possibly the best. The way you chose the partner your mother approved of and not the one who made your heart soar. The way you changed who you really are so you could fit in. The way you sacrificed your hopes and dreams so that you could belong. The way you left behind all those amazing qualities you had because it did not help you become a functioning member of society.
This sickness, this disease, this life-destroying debility only becomes pronounced when it is drawn to your attention - and it is always brought to your attention in the most vicious and violent manner. As abrupt as a slap in the face and as shocking as a fatal car crash, it almost always manifests itself with the worst kind of symptoms. Sudden uncontrollable sadness, inconsolable dismay, hopelessness, a loss of self confidence, doubtfulness, faithlessness and every other unimaginably sorrowful emotion are symptoms of this disease. The bite that actually was indoctrination brought about the sickness that is conformity.
Conformity. Compliance. Acquiescence. Obedience. Abidance. We are so wrapped up with what is "in accordance with socially dictated norms" that we do everything and anything to destroy our very own personalities. Some are victorious by means of brazenly going against socially prevailing standards, some live consciously knowing that they have conformed and have made peace with and some are like Sarah, at a point in life where somewhere, somehow, something is attempting to control what she should do, say and think. Now the case below may not be an absolutely accurate example of the horrors of conformity, but it is real and it is true - which makes it pretty much on the money.
Recently, Sarah wanted to apply for a job. The advertised position appeared benign and open enough. Liberal even. Her heart stopped when she read the online job description - it was almost as though it was written just for her, only for her eyes. She immediately thought this was the one. The one job that will allow to be "her" while an income is generated. She was sadly mistaken. 'Sadly' being the key word in that last sentence.
She contacted the appropriate employers and they sent her an application package. 'Package' being the key word. There is such a thing as selection criteria which is an attempt to cut out the unqualified, inexperienced and unprepared. You are meant to address each selection criteria with specific, detailed examples. While she can respect that this is a means of decreasing the selection pool and increasing the chances of finding the most 'superior' candidate, she is shattered by the realisation that she is supposed to mould herself, her skills and her personality to fit the description of the 'ideal' candidate.
She is required to conform. She is required to say - even perhaps lie - that she is exactly what they are looking for. She is supposed to add shiny embellishments. She is supposed to be somebody she is most likely not. This narrowed, highly specific selection criteria has brought about the need to conform, and it is not sitting well. Rather than say "show us what you have and we will see whether the job suits you" they say "this is what we want and this is who you need to be for the job" and she is completely shattered.
Why have we given in to conforming? Why have we succumbed to it? Why are we so unhappy? Everyone says they made the choice to give up their dreams yet constantly regret them. Petulant as it may sound, she does not want to conform. She does not want to mould herself to be the 'ideal' candidate. She does not want to lie or embellish, she wants to be given the chance to prove herself and what she is capable of. She wants an opportunity. She wants the fortune of being chosen for a job that suits her and not the other way around.
She refuses to compromise and conform, she is sadly not the ideal, superior candidate. She is not the right 'package'. She probably never will be. When did we stop being individuals and when did we start losing ourselves for the sake of an income? We apply for jobs that we renovate ourselves for, instead of creating or finding a job that is built for us. A job will be chore if it is not the role we are best suited for and lifetime of doing something society says is best for us will be the death of us. She is sad, she feels doubtful and hopeless yet she knows that she will wake tomorrow morning and do something that confirms that she is in fact still her. She will fight against the sickness that is conformity.
She is lucky, isn't she? She felt the bite when she was told that she has to fit into certain dimensions. She feels the symptoms, but she will not live with this disease for long. She will win against the sickness that is conformity. She is lucky. Luckier than you.
“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”- Ralph Waldo Emerson
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