There is good science behind the premise that you can make accurate assessments of a person’s intent by careful observation of what is known as “body language.”
Apparently we tell all with our eyes, facial expressions, body posture, gestures, eye movement, touch and the use of space. This nonverbal means of communication is below our awareness and is not limited to homo sapiens. Body language has meaning, whether culturally based, or species specific and it is measurable and verifiable.
Most of what we designate as body language is below our conscious awareness, imprinted on our nervous system by experience and genetics. It’s quite fascinating to understand the subtle meanings of what might, without analysis, be considered random behavior or a personal quirk. Interesting but also vexing. What happens is that heretofore unconscious behavior is brought to the conscious level and, all of a sudden, what was easy becomes awkward.
How many of us cross our arms when in a conversation? What do you think that can mean? Are you walling off incoming? Or, is this a sign that the room is too cold?
And what about tilting your head to the side? If you are a woman, according to those that study such things, a tilt to the right means you are trustworthy and to the left, well, you become more attractive. Trying to remember this in various situations can prove to be a pain in the neck, literally. What happens when you wish to be trustworthy and attractive? Of course there are those that say that the head tilt means neither of the above, but is an indication of weakness, subordination. Did you ever see a linebacker tilt his head to the side? It’s not a pretty picture.
It’s been long observed that there is an optimal conversational space between two people. Too close indicates either aggression or “I’d like to get to know you better.” We’ve all known “close talkers” and can give testimony to how uncomfortable they make us.
This social distance is culturally based. People from other countries tend to interact in less space and think that we are a bit standoffish as we back up to establish the space that we find more to our liking. In the same vein, we attribute the “foreigner” as being either pushy or “on the make.” Sad, but true.
While social distance is cultural, frowning seems to be a universal response to a wide variety of experiences. Last week, a plastic surgeon on a morning talk show was poised to inject a willing 46-year-old woman with Botox. (for those living under a rock, Botox is a variation of botulinum toxin … the stuff in badly-canned food that will off you in a trice.)
She explained that the toxin caused the muscles that we use to frown to relax. “It’s possible, but not easy, to frown after the injection.” she said. Then she added that it was no longer necessary to frown. Frowning was not useful.
Ok, so for those with frown-less faces, what can replace this now useless body language? Would, let’s say, pursed lips be appropriate when watching young men, with pants so big that they ride below the tops of their underwear, run across the street? Or would that indicate an eye roll. Should eye rolls be reserved for those that can’t live without a cell phone attached to their ear – in the supermarket, the doctor’s office, church, walking down the street, in labor and delivery, in the classroom and yes, in the car? Would a shoulder shrug be the reaction to language formerly reserved for stevedores who frequented bars on the waterfront and now heard from the lips of kids in middle school who resent having to put their cell phones away?
Should we designate an array of hand and finger signals for those that malign their opponents during election campaigns rather than demonstrate how they, as our elected representatives, will make our lives better? Should we save some of the more colorful of those finger signals for a smugness that looks the other way as our culture coarsens and we accept school violence as inevitable? Perhaps, in the latter instance, and in some of the former, a frown is an understatement of our chagrin. Maybe we should invent something more appropriate.
Botox may relax the frown muscles, but what relaxes our indignation at the faults of our culture? Maybe the best reaction comes from the space between our ears and shows itself in actions that remedy the situation rather than reacting to them. And after the remedy, a successful one: Give yourself a “hand”…. clapping with a big smile on your face.
