“Can you talk to a stranger for an hour?”
Despite coming from a computer, the question felt almost aggressive. Of course I can talk to a stranger for an hour. I was a reporter for over a decade; you can’t do that job without learning to talk to almost anyone for an hour.
Still, I wanted to say no. Just like I’d wanted to say no to several other questions the computer had just posed, even though the true answers were all yeses. It was the night before a school-sponsored Myers-Briggs personality workshop, and I was taking the famous test for the first time. And I was starting to think it was rigged. Every time I admitted that I could make small talk or navigate a party, I knew I was edging one step closer to being labeled an extrovert. What the test didn’t seem to understand was that my social skills are just that – skills. Learned skills. I was not born gregarious. One of my mom’s favorite stories from my grade school years is about the time one of my teachers called her in for a meeting to discuss how many recesses I was spending in the school library. In junior high, if my best friend was sick, there was a good chance I’d end up eating lunch alone. Still, when I walked into the workshop the next day, there was only one component of my personality the test was able to distinguish unequivocally: according to Myers and Briggs, I am an extrovert.
Of course, it’s been many years since junior high. Many years since college, even, where, like many nerdy kids, I blossomed. These days, not only can I interview strangers, I can throw dinner parties. Heck, I enjoy throwing dinner parties. Still, extrovert has never felt like the right label to me. I’ve actually argued about this with friends who laugh at what they consider my denial about my (obvious to others) true nature.
And this is why I have developed a crush on Susan Cain. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine posted a link to her Ted talk. I’d heard her name – knew she’s just written a book on introversion – and I was vaguely intrigued. Not quite intrigued enough to stop what I was doing and watch a 20-minute video, but I bookmarked it. Several days later, when I finally got around to watching it, I had the kind of moment that happens less and less as I get older — the feeling that a total stranger knows exactly who I am and how I feel. Better, perhaps, than I do. The next day I spent my lunch break tracking down a copy of her book.
In Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, Cain discusses people like me, those who look like extroverts but identify with many of the qualities of introverts. She describes how she made it through Harvard law school and several years as a Wall Street lawyer before following her dream to become a writer, a job that takes advantage of her need for a great deal of alone time, love of books and solitary thought. She also tells the stories of important introverts — Rosa Parks, Theodor Seuss Geisel, Mahatma Ghandi. But Quiet is mostly a big idea book. Cain argues that by asking introverts to act like extroverts, society misses out on some of the contributions thoughtful types can bring to both work and relationships.
Part of what I like so much about the book is that, unlike Myers-Briggs, Cain doesn’t try to put people in clearly defined boxes. Rather, her message is, see if there’s anything here that resonates with you – introvert to extrovert is a spectrum. And it’s not just a question of people skills; the extent of one’s need for quiet time is in part shaped by biology. Essentially, introverts have much stronger physiological responses to stimuli than extroverts: babies who freak out when you pop a balloon or who grab at colorful mobiles are much more likely to grow into quiet thoughtful types, while tykes who remain unruffled in the face of novelty are more likely to eventually be voted life of the party.
That’s a message that makes room for people like me. I love people, but they do exhaust me. I get some of my best ideas on the long walks and bike rides I take several times a week – alone. And I still love to get lost in a good book. Yet, after working so hard to develop my social skills, I sometimes feel guilty about taking time for more solitary pursuits.
That was what I wanted to tell Myers-Briggs but couldn’t. Can initiate a conversation with a stranger? You bet – after years of practice. Do I enjoy parties? Yes again, but I also find them deeply tiring. And, sometimes, after a big week, will I schedule my Saturday so that I don’t have to talk to anyone at all? Well, the computer didn’t ask about that, but that’s a yes, too. And, Cain reminds me, it’s okay.
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Robin Mejia is a researcher at the Berkeley Human Rights Center and a PhD student in biostatistics at UC Berkeley.
Photo of Madeline Jo with books by Wendy King, kids on a tiger by Flickr user Tristan Schmurr.
I believe I can see a little of myself here, particularly where you (and Susan) discuss an introvert’s need for quiet time. I wonder if that is an important factor in that “meltdown” I often feel after a big project or event, that often leaves me feeling like I am just “too lazy” or “too disorganised” to complete the final details. I imagine there are other factors at play too (oh, look – shiny, new), but perhaps that (personal) drive to meet the extrovert target of putting everything together, with all that entails and just being something/someone that doesn’t feel like me (despite other opinions) is more than just weakness. Maybe it is more about the time I’m not allowing myself to be me, and less about imperfection?
Well Said.
Fascinating. I’ve struggled to put the same feeling into words. People tell me I’m an extrovert and I tell them no, I’m an introvert, but that’s not quite right either.
I think the time it was clearest to me was when I was at a 10-day writing conference and everybody around the place was somewhere closer to the introvert side of the spectrum. People would just wander off alone for a bit, or you’d find someone sitting alone in a corner, and you’d check they were OK, but oftentimes someone would just say “Oh, I just need some time to recharge,” and it made perfect sense to everybody.
It was so nice. I get nostalgic for that time and often wish the whole world had that kind of understanding of the need for time to be alone and think, to be alone and recharge, or just simply the fact that for some people being around people is incredibly exhausting and that is not meant in a negative way at all; it’s just how it is.
Interesting read, Thank You for sharing your thoughts.
I have been a fan of reading about personality traits mot of my adult life.
I first came across M&B Testing in 1978.
I also like Susan gains book, Quiet, along with most books on
this subject.
I see the M&B test as an insight to ones self, not necessarily a personality test that is set in stone; i know it helped me to understand certain character traits that were within myself, that were (& are) so very different than those in my life, at that time.
Its about our inner nature, what we R like, in or out of solitude.
Like you mention we each have learnt, or hold traits of, extroversion or introversion, they become our ways of communicating within our life, whether be it at our job, or at our choice of attending social activities etc etc.
Like most subjects of depth, I think it is simply a tool, for helping not only ourselves, but also in helping us to understand others…
I am an Introverted personality (INFJ)
I enjoyed reading your insight on this subject .
~ Pamela
I first did Myers-Briggs with my then fiance before we were married. (It definitely showed us how we were different on the extroversion/introversion aspect, and how that might play out when we disagree about something.) Next time I took the test, it was in a career counseling context, and I felt — like you — I answered the questions differently. I’ve learned how to overcome some of my reluctant tendencies at work. Seems okay to me, to be different personality-wise at home and at work.
I’m glad to hear this resonated with other people.
Jill, I agree — though I like to save the stretch version of me for work. Seriously, I genuinely appreciate the skills I’ve learned from reporting, and they have helped in other areas. But I’ve noticed that everything in my life seems to work better when I build in what Callie called time to recharge.
Robin, this article definitely resonated with me. I have always been the one who dreads parties where I know no one. The one who makes friends one at a time. And yet, I made my career as an extemporaneous public speaker and am known to strike up a conversation with complete strangers in the check-out line. M & B would never be able to pigeon-hole me.
When I took a Meyers-Briggs test (this was before they were computerized) the instructions said to answer the questions the way you wish you were, not necessarily the way you are. That might have helped you. (Also, the test I took didn’t ask questions like “Can you talk to a stranger for an hour?” Its questions were closer to “Would you enjoy talking to a stranger for an hour?”)
My results were Introvert-middle-middle-middle. They gathered everyone into like groups, but they didn’t have a group for me (or for one other person) so it was pretty boring.
I also like Laurie Helgoe’s Introvert Power. It resonated with my alone among the crowd (as in ‘likes to be..’) nature.
I’ve always been aware of and comfortable with my introversion despite living in a society that is farther to the extravert end of the spectrum. I consistently test out as INT(F/J). Half the time it give F and half J. So each component of MB is a spectrum too and some are close to center. The problems come when the MB is presumed to account for all of one’s personality. No test can do that.