How Are You?
Depending on tone, body language, and our pre-existing relationship, this question leads me down two very different paths. My culture of origin doesn’t value pleasantries. Plastered smiles and friendly chit-chat aren’t native to the political tumult, upheaval, and uncertainty of 19th century Russia. Life was hard, at times brutal, for my grandparents, and I inherited their suspicion of “fake friendliness”. True friendship was built after years of sharing tears, confidences, and side-splitting laughter. True friends were to be cherished, and everyone else was treated with overt skepticism. I wasn’t raised to see value in small talk. Even now I often swallow a hard lump of discomfort when I answer, “I’m fine, how are you?” It feels like lying.
Maybe it is lying. To be honest, I’m not sure. I am sure that I’m rarely if ever “fine”. I am often “holding it together” or “barely putting one foot in front of the other”. I am occasionally “stable and centered” or “calm and contented”. And on a particularly fine day (word play intended), I may be “grateful” or even “playful”. The closest thing to “fine” that I can choke down is a wide-eyed “I’m alright” said while nodding my head slowly. My body language alludes to an inner struggle, but people can choose to take or leave those cues. One day, a fellow graduate student chose to acknowledge those cues. She stopped and asked, “no really, how are you?” And so began a true and tender friendship of twelve years (and counting).
So what should I do when something that feels genuinely dishonest to me equates to good manners in the majority culture? When my in-laws come over I desperately avoid small talk. If I’m in the middle of a work day (which happens often now that I work from home), I’ll say hi, but I intentionally leave out the dreaded question unless I have the time and bandwidth to hear the answer. My heart races as I pour a hurried glass of water. I dream of making it up the stairs before someone tries to fill the beautiful silence. And then those unassuming words hit me like a deer in headlights. Sigh.
I know I could remedy this with a couple well-thought-out conversations. I know that these “good manners” come from genuinely good intentions. But I don’t know how to have a conversation about small talk and family culture when I’ve been part of this family for nearly a decade. Most modern businesses acknowledge that workplace culture should be intentionally cultivated, but what about modern families? We assume that dynamics around loved ones are inherently inclusive, but what if they aren’t? What if every time you ask, “how are you,” I notice the lack of smile lines around your eyes? I interpret fake positivity, and I feel deeply uncomfortable. Like you’re asking me to hide my truth to match your expression. Like maybe you don’t actually want to know how I’m doing.
That’s the hurt at the heart of the matter… it’s me wondering whether there is space for me to be NOT fine. Pleasantries don’t bother me in restaurants or with neighbors; I don’t expect strangers and acquaintances to hold space for me. But given everything we’ve been dealing with for the last few years, I genuinely don’t know whether that space exists in our extended family. But I do know this… I will ask “how are you” slowly, with a neutral and open expression, or I won’t ask at all.
Toys can show a lot about our emotional expectations!
