I hear people use the word “awkward” around school almost daily. The syllables slip past their lips and plop into conversation as naturally as a frog might leap into the nearest pond. When I take part in these conversations, I often notice how frequently I use “awkward” in a negative context. I’ll say things like, “I hate those awkward pauses,” or “that conversation was really awkward,” without pausing to consider why I came away with that impression.
I think we label perfectly normal interactions as “awkward” because they lack an artificial level of elegance that society has groomed us to expect. Members of our generation have grown up watching attractive actors and actresses deliver perfectly-timed lines on the silver screen, and it’s easy to interpret these cinematic moments as representations of real-life communication. James Bond smooth-talks the ladies, saves the world and gets the girl. Elizabeth Bennett frequently fires off eloquent salvos of her peppery wit, which eventually earn her both a husband and a fortune. The suave young agent and elegant lady in those films like “007” and “Pride and Prejudice” then become models for ideal interaction in the real world. Conversation that falls short of this verbal grace becomes “awkward.”
Unfortunately, I participate in far fewer Hollywood-style conversations than I would like. I have neither Bond’s charisma nor Bennett’s wit, so silence punctuates many of my conversations. This doesn’t bother me, but occasionally an acquaintance will mention that these silences seem awkward and will do his or her best to navigate the conversation in a new direction. I also used to try to avoid awkward situations, but lately I’ve realized how useful they are. The circumstances we call “awkward” often help us build stronger relationships: They help us identify the insecurities of others, and empower us to accommodate those insecurities and give our friends support and affirmation where they need it.
To illustrate this point, let’s return to that familiar problem of the awkward silence. I used to fear these conversational gaps because I felt they reflected my inability to come up with a suitable topic for conversation. To me, these brief dead spaces felt like eons spent vainly grasping for small talk. Mortified at my ineptitude, I would feebly attempt to diffuse the tension by pointing out the awkwardness of the situation and either wait for a savior or excuse myself from the circle.
In retrospect, I doubt that any of my peers noticed the awkwardness that pressed so heavily on my soul, and now I enjoy silence almost as much as I enjoy talking. However, these experiences have given me a greater empathy for other people: When someone mentions that a silence seems awkward, for all I know he could be experiencing insecurity similar to mine.
When people label a situation “awkward,” whether we both tried to sit in the same chair or we ducked the same way three times while attempting to make room for each other in the hallway, they could be expressing that the circumstances made them uncomfortable. They may not think twice about the encounter, but their comment might also derive from a fear of being seen as inelegant or subpar. By avoiding similar situations in the future, we can relieve this discomfort temporarily, but we shouldn’t stop there.
Simply avoiding awkward situations is a bit like ignoring a leaky faucet: You can still enjoy a solid friendship, but you’ll have to listen to insecurity dripping constantly in the background. Eventually, that constant interference might drive you crazy. Instead of coexisting with this insecurity by avoiding awkward situations, I propose that we address the root of the problem by expressing our respect and appreciation for the other person. If this person has been struggling with insecurity, then they would welcome the affirmation. If we misread them, they’ll never know the difference — they’ll simply think we’re trying to be nice.
I’ve started to view “awkward” situations as a prompt to express kindness to others. They remind me that the face of ideal human interaction doesn’t belong to an airbrushed movie star; instead, it belongs to the average person, complete with freckles, pimples and blemishes. The behavior we label “awkward” is often a natural part of communication, but, if it makes people uncomfortable, then we should be prepared to address the root issue. If it prompts us to build each other up, then I say we could use some more “awkwardness” all around.
