The Invisible Tyrant: The Art of People-Pleasing in Afghan Culture
Life, Judgment, and the Inescapable Shadow of Our Inner 'Khāla Gulpari'
Last night, as I was settling into my usual routine of intellectual musings, my better half brought up the topic of "people-pleasing." Now, if you know me, you'd probably agree that "people-pleaser" isn't exactly what comes to mind. Quite the opposite. I've always prided myself on being my own person, unafraid to swim against the current. But she said something that jolted me out of my comfortable bubble of self-assurance: “Well, you still expend your time, energy, attention, and resources to display your disapproval, which seems to work like a curse on you.”
Wait, what? A curse? Me, controlled? That couldn't be right. Or could it?
As I tossed and turned that night, unable to shake off her words, I realized something startling. She was right. So much of what I do, whether it's the blogs I write, the people I interview for my podcast, or even the coffee I choose to sip in the morning, is influenced, if not entirely controlled, by this invisible, intangible arbiter. Would my parents approve? What would my colleagues think? How would this sit with my friends, my better half, my neighbours, and let's not forget, Khāla Gulpari and Kākā Abdullah?
So, dear reader, I've decided to delve into this murky world of silent coercion. I want to uncover this invisible tyrant, this 'voice of conscience' that echoes in the dark corners of our psyche. It's like Freud's concept of the 'Super-Ego,' except imagine if your Super-Ego were as unforgiving and tyrannical as your Khāla Gulpari; you'd be in a ceaseless dialectic with an internal overseer, as relentless in its critique as it is inescapable in its presence.
Why does this unmerciful pleasing side of us have such a stranglehold on us? Is it pure biology, the pre-programming of neurons that seek oxytocin highs through approval? Is it the sociological quilt woven with the threads of collective conscience? Or is it something deeper, more enigmatic, ingrained in the very cultural fabric that stitches us together as Afghans? Over the next few minutes, we'll journey through biology, psychology, and sociology that accompanies this enigmatic behaviour, in an attempt to decode the etymology of our people-pleasing tendencies.
First on our odyssey is the fascinating world of biology, the science that often serves as the backbone for many of our behaviors, whether we like it or not. You see, our brain has this amazing feature: it releases oxytocin, also known as the “feel-good hormone,” when we garner approval or affection from others. Now, this isn't just some cosmic prank played by Mother Nature to make us addicted to the nods and smiles of those around us. It's evolutionary biology at work, essentially incentivizing social bonding and cooperation, traits that were crucial for the survival of our ancestors. In a way, every time you get a pat on the back from your dad or a nod of approval from Khāla Gulpari, your brain is high-fiving itself, basking in a mini-celebration of biochemical rewards.
Next, let's tip our hats to Sigmund Freud, the man who made it perfectly acceptable to discuss our parents in polite society, without seeming entirely self-obsessed. Freud introduced us to the concept of the 'Super-Ego,' that incessant internal voice that serves as our moral compass, echoing the values and norms we've absorbed from our parents and society at large. But remember, in the Afghan context, this Super-Ego isn't just a whisper in the wind; it's more like a heavy metal concert, an ensemble of every parental, societal, and even ancestral expectation, each screaming for attention. Picture it as your own internal Khāla Gulpari, unyielding and ever-watchful, overseeing your every decision from the wings of your consciousness. Just like your Mādar jan, Padar jan, Kāka, Khāla and Ama jan, your Super-Ego has an almost omniscient gift for making its presence felt precisely when you're about to make a decision, reminding you of what's 'acceptable' and what could lead to collective family shame.
The Perennial Thinker: Lost in thought, yet ever-aware of society's watching eyes. A living testament to the interplay between individual introspection and collective judgment.
Now, shift your gaze from the microcosm of the mind to the society at large, the macrocosm if you will, specifically the vibrant, complex, and often paradoxical Afghan society. If psychology gives us a ‘Super-Ego’ that serves as a relentless internal auditor, sociology casts a broader net. We're talking about a society deeply embedded in collectivism, where the “we” often overshadows the “I.” This isn't merely a societal preference; it's practically a cultural doctrine. It's as though the collective Afghan psyche has signed a social contract, albeit unwritten, that mandates: “Thou shalt consider thy neighbor's opinion and thy Khāla Gulpari’s opinion as important as thy own….and sometimes more important than thy own.” The society serves as an external echo to your internal Khāla Gulpari, forming a feedback loop of conformity that's as inescapable as it is confounding. And this isn't a simplistic form of social control; it's a maze-like network of nuanced judgments, perceived expectations, and unwritten rules that even Kafka would find perplexing.
Imagine waking up one day to find yourself transformed into a giant bug, a la Kafka's “Metamorphosis,” and still worrying whether Khāla Gulpari would approve of your new exoskeleton. “Does this carapace make me look fat?” you'd wonder, scuttling across the floor. Meanwhile, your inner Khāla Gulpari, or should we say, your “Super-Ego,” would chime in, cautioning you not to embarrass the family by being seen in daylight. “Hide under the sofa, for heaven's sake! What would the neighbors think?” Trust me, if Kafka had been Afghan, Gregor Samsa (the protagonist in Metamorphosis who turns into a giant bug) would not only worry about his appearance but also whether his transformation abides by the societal norms set by generations of his ancestors.
You see, even if you turn into a Kafkaesque bug, your Afghan social contract and Freudian ‘Super-Ego’ are still in tow, judging, guiding, and yes, at times, tyrannically directing your every skitter and crawl. It is deeper than you think. Our people-pleasing tendency is an all-encompassing totalitarian system. It’s a superstructure, a matrix that controls every aspect of our finite lives. A terrifying thought.
So, there you have it. Whether it's the evolutionary biology rewarding our brains for social cohesion, the Freudian Super-Ego providing a moral commentary louder than our Khāla Gulpari’s hysterical laughter, or the social constructs that make the Afghan community more interwoven than a finely crafted spider-web, people-pleasing is an intricate part of who we are. It's as multi-faceted as a gemstone, each surface reflecting a different aspect of our individual and collective selves. And it doesn't just affect our public lives, it dictates everything from the careers we choose to the mates we court, and yes, even the words we write.
So who am I writing for? Who am I trying to please? Why are YOU reading this? Who are YOU trying to please?
In the end, as I sit here typing these words and sentences, I can't help but wonder: is it perhaps my better half I aim to please with these musings? After all, it was her incisive and sharp observation that sparked this introspective journey. Yet, the irony is, I'm not even certain she'll read this. Perhaps, that's the ultimate paradox of people-pleasing: we exhaust our mental and emotional resources curating ourselves for an audience that may or may not ever witness the performance. It's as if we're all actors on a stage directed by an invisible hand, the collective sum of biology, psychology, and society. And so, in this grand theatre of life, it's perhaps fitting to ponder not just who we aim to please, but why their validation carries the weight of existential meaning. Because, in the final act, the applause that may matter most is not the one from Khāla Gulpari, but the one we can offer ourselves, in the quiet recesses of our own souls.
Cheers.