I opened this episode with a clip from my first talent show. I was six years old.
Upon finding out that I had signed myself up for the talent show, my parents and first-grade teacher were surprised. In school, I embodied the characteristics that were exactly what I discussed last episode. I was known for being extremely soft-spoken and shy.
Oddly enough, instead of speaking up in class and asking more questions like my teachers suggested, I decided to take the stage and perform my favorite poem at the time: The Rainbow by Christina Rossetti.
I remember being three years old and playing house with my siblings. I was supposed to be sad about something in the game, but I guess I was really going for an Academy Award nomination as I burst into tears on cue. They thought something had genuinely gone wrong and paused the game. All was well, I was just committed to the role.
I identify that as one of the earliest manifestations of the inner performer inside my heart.
One misconception in our culture is that introverts are inherently quiet, shy and asocial. But introverts simply recharge their social battery by being alone. I know some solid introverts and they quite literally need to retreat after being in a crowd. Their social battery dies after spending time around a lot of people.
I used to think I was one too, until I realized that I feed off the energy of people at sporting events, fairs, concerts and parties. I would go to auto shows and large events for hours.
Even the smallest events I attend have a recharging effect on me. Prior to attending the event, I might feel tired or aloof. But if I feel comfortable, I start to feel good. And when I leave, I usually can’t shut up around people I’m comfortable with. I suddenly have all of this exciting energy.
Sounds like classic extrovert stuff, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
I thought I was an introverted extrovert. I present as an introvert, but I’m really an extrovert on the inside. Or maybe I’m an ambivert — a little of both. Okay, what about a shy extrovert?
Or maybe… I don’t have to pick one of these cultural personality-type shorthands.
The “-vert” concept is a spectrum. Just like a lot of other social concepts and labels.
People like to categorize things and people. It’s just easier to process stuff that way. This inner conundrum of mine leads me to wonder how it is for other people who don’t feel like they fit into one of these categories and the (minor) dangers of choosing between the -verts.
Extroverts are often sought after for leadership positions, and I’ll say generally, people tend not to view introverts as capable leaders.
People tend to listen to the loudest voices. The ones who are outgoing and socializing with others. The chatterboxes, the social butterflies. Culturally, these little signs tell us that certain people are confident. That they’re charismatic, approachable and likable.
On the other hand, introverts are often viewed as unsociable, standoffish and cold. They can’t hold a conversation because they’re shy or awkward. They’re not charismatic, cheerful or friendly. And a big one: they hate people and avoid parties.
All of this is wildly untrue and lowkey kind of arbitrary. The terms simply refer to one’s energy style, not how an individual fares in a social environment.
There are shy extroverts, awkward extroverts, quiet and socially anxious extroverts. There are loud introverts, outgoing introverts, cheerful and partying introverts.
I misunderstood these concepts for a long time, internalizing cultural associations and stereotypes of ideal personalities. Years ago, I did a class presentation and revealed my thought to my peers.
And it was a lot. I don’t usually like to admit that I am not as voiceless as I appear. But I’ve come to realize it’s important to let people see me for me.
The reserved, thoughtful, introspective person who likes events and listening and learning about people and society.
People tend to dislike the way they sound on a recording — me included. When I went on a college tour in high school, I was advised to get comfortable with the sound of my voice if I wanted to go into audio or video journalism.
It wasn’t until I was at home practically all the time in 2020 that I tried it out. I started out recording myself reading news articles for five minutes a day. The first recording was painful. When I would listen back to the recordings, I would cringe so much.
But I persisted and started to work on the way I pronounced certain words and my cadence. I watched NPR’s “Three tips for training your voice” video and I found it so helpful to take deep breaths, say tongue twisters and yes… even pant like a dog before recording things.
Because of the tumultuous year that was 2020, I wanted to record little personal narrative time capsules about the major events during the year. I leaned into creative writing at the time and found that recording my nonfiction personal narratives was more appealing than just recording myself reading news articles.
I discovered Anchor by Spotify, which became Spotify for Podcasters and is now Spotify for Creators. I then wrote, recorded and published a few pieces.
When I published the first episode of my podcast, which was originally titled Retrospect, the feeling was special. I wouldn’t know how else to describe it other than it being freeing. My larynx had become free in a way that it hadn’t been in years.
That’s the rest of the tip of the iceberg about why I have an interesting relationship with my voice despite having a public podcast.
This platform is kind of a way to scream from the rooftops some of the kernels of ideas that may not fully form any other way.
