"You know," a friend confessed to me lately, "when I first met you, I was kind of scared of you."
This was an odd statement to make to me, of all people - me, the girl who barely spans five feet in height and is a remarkable contrast to my five-eight, could-be-a-model friend. She must have noticed how confused I probably looked, because she was quick to amend her words: "No, not scared like, 'Oh, she's going to beat me up!' But more like, 'Wow, I shouldn't mess with her.'"
Apparently, you really shouldn't, because it is not the first time I've heard sentiments like this before. I'm the kind of person who, admittedly, doesn't seem too conventionally nice: My friends have nicknamed me Tinkerbell and even Buttercup (?? la the Powerpuff Girls) due to my feisty nature. I guess I've got this personality that may seem pretty intense to those who don't know me, but you learn to love my so-called "spunk" with time. Or so I think.
Anyway this little tidbit of conversation slipped my mind for a while, until I went to dinner with some of my boyfriend's cousins for the first time over break. It was awkward at first, but after we got all of the standard questions out of the way (e.g., "How's John Hopkins?" followed by my struggle not to correct them out of politeness), the conversation eased up. We enjoyed dinner, and slowly my nerves disappeared, until I felt comfortable enough to shed the polite exterior and really be myself.
What started with the usual banter between my boyfriend and I quickly turned into the rest of the table ogling whatever casually slipped out of my mouth. These were things I nonchalantly said, without even thinking about them, but, in the end, felt like the punch lines on MTV's Yo Momma, with his cousins acting as the taunting commentators. I joked about leaving him for "bigger, better things" (innuendo not intended); from their reactions, I felt like my boyfriend was an Internet GIF with "OWNED" plastered across his reddening face.
And when I tried out the drums on Rock Band (after wowing them with my guitar skills), I coyly defended my loss on "Bang a Gong" by saying I didn't want to beat the regular drummer too badly. This, too, produced fits of laughter and led one cousin to say, "This girl can talk!" but more so led me to question just how intense my spur-of-the-moment comments may seem.
So why is it that a less direct, more sarcastic sense of humor like mine makes someone less approachable, less likeable (at least at first), and even bitchy? Is society - at least American society - so used to associating generally "nice" people with cheery, bubbly attitudes? Jenah, of America's Next Top Model semifinalist fame, was constantly being dubbed offensive and "unprofessional" for her caustic jokes. She responded to the ANTM judges' criticism by saying that she didn't have to "spew rainbows incessantly" to be a good role model or to be likeable. And I agreed entirely - a little variety can't hurt, can it? (The judges, however, didn't feel the same way; Saleisha, the exhausting effervescent Rihanna look-alike, ultimately won the competition.)
American humor, among other aspects of our culture, tends to be more laugh-out-loud and in-your-face than that of other cultures. While comedies in America immediately bring to mind that of the American Pie variety, with blatant innuendos and crass jokes galore, British comedy, for example, seems more clever than hilarious - more "smirk" than "guffaw." The Brits are darker and more subtle, exceptions aside, and don't necessarily need to show their kindness via cheery faces and exuberant voices.
Perhaps the best example of American standards of "nice" stems from the Disney touch: Princes are charming and conveniently punctual, princesses are joyous and kind even to forest animals and happy endings always prevail. It's an idealistic society in which merely wishing sweetly on a star can lead to the fulfillment of dreams.
Yet, the original fairy tales, ?? la the Brothers Grimm, weren't so idealistic - instead, they were dark, in European fashion, and even violent. The tales originally weren't even intended for children! But they spawned legends, stories and phenomena like those created by the "wonderful world of Disney" (in which "good" automatically equals lyrical and peppy).
Those original German folk tales were different from what we know now, but think: They practically created what we know! A fresh perspective in a strange fashion really isn't the end of the "nice" world that we've come to define.
The stories weren't full of flowers and bunnies, but they ultimately gave the same (general) message as Disney's, in a rather different way; and likewise, just because I don't sugarcoat things as others might definitely doesn't mean that I don't mean well. Personally, I'd much rather have someone say what they thought - humorous twinge optional - than have someone "nicen" things up all the time.
Or maybe it's just me. But if you ever encounter someone who comes across like I do - with an unconventional sense of humor and an overwhelming desire just to be liked for herself - give her a chance. I promise, she's not as mean as she seems.
