The hidden boner

Back in sixth grade, when everyone was awkward and the AIM chats didn’t matter, my one friend Pantsy (whose name has been changed to protect his identity and reflect his choices) wore these really great pants. And by great I mean terrible. They were mustard yellow, MC Hammer, basketball shorts-material capris. Now, I was no fashionista myself—that same year, I sported almost exclusively tie-dye and soccer shorts, and I needed a full-out intervention to be convinced to wear a bra. I also had a habit of trying—and failing—to put on makeup. When people pointed out that neon orange eye shadow was not, in fact, the new hot trend, I would say my little sister put it on me in my sleep—a lie only one of my friends ever pointed out as blatantly untrue, which either indicates I had very nice friends, or the rural South’s educational system is truly in shambles. Likely both.

Needless to say, I was super excited to have this chance to prove I knew fashion. Being the bold person I am, I waited until Pantsy was facing away from me to make my snide comment. “Pantsy, what’s wrong with your pants?” I giggled. Pantsy wheeled around, and all of a sudden, I was face-to-face with a wild, mid-pubescent boner. 

I like to think of this first encounter of the penis kind as a learning experience. Well, mostly I don’t like to think about it at all, because that would probably be somehow pedophilic, but somewhere in there, there had to have been some learning. Even if there wasn’t, I’m going to ascribe some to it now. 

Everyone wears a personality for the world to see. This front, however genuine, is available for the interpretation and judgment of everyone and acts as their “hammer pants,” if you will.  Yet underneath those courageous capris, everyone has something going on. Everyone has their struggles, motivations and thoughts they keep to only themselves. Some people are better or (lookin’ at you, Pantsy) worse at hiding this awkward boner from others—but everyone has one. 

At Duke, I belong to an unabashedly cult-like organization called Project BUILD. During BUILD, every night, we listen to the entire life story of a person in our “crew,” whom we have basically just met. The stories are brutally honest and exceptionally thorough—some go on for over 12 hours. At BUILD, I’ve had the privilege of telling my life story to 25 people and have had the honor of hearing theirs. 

It’s a really weird experience for someone to know what your boner looks like before they’ve seen your pants. These people know your childhood stuffed animal’s name, but they have virtually no idea what you’re like in everyday life. This dynamic has created some of the best friendships I’ve ever had and some of the most knowledgeable (and awkward) acquaintances. 

More than that, these experiences have enabled me to see other people’s boners. Or at least, to know they exist. It’s so easy to go through life assuming people are what they put forth and that their whole self can be summarized by the actions that you personally experience or hear about. But that, my friends, is not seeing the boner for the pants. 

There is a psychological phenomenon (that I should know the name of because I am a psych major but I don’t because I am a psych major) where people attribute their own faults and mistakes to outside circumstance, whereas if they do something good, they attribute it to their own positive traits. Yet people tend to think the opposite of others: that is, they think that when others do bad things, it is because they are bad, and if they do good things, it is because of circumstance. 

In short, we do not allow others the complexity of experience, influence and personality that we allow ourselves. Instead of accepting the reality that there are thousands of things going on in the heads and lives of others that we can’t know about—it is easier to assume. To use preconceived notions to assign someone an identity we have decided on for them. To listen to only one side of the story and be done. And so we do. 

With that, I have a proposition for all Duke students. You need to know that you don’t know. People are complicated. There is always another side to the story, an explanation for an action or a hidden background we can’t know about. Even if you know someone’s entire life story, you cannot assume you know the method to their madness. However, it is an all-too-frequent occurrence in the middle school-like social environments that permeate college and adult life that people refuse to seek more information before developing an opinion of an entire person. 

So, Dukies, I challenge you to use your now-seventh ranked intellect to think further about your interactions with others, the gossip you hear and the assumptions you make. Consciously try to realize when you are denying others their full experience and personhood, because in doing so, you’re denying yourself truly knowing them. You’ll find that if you think beyond the obvious, you’ll finally be able to know others as the boners they truly are. 

Lillie Reed is a Trinity senior. Her column is part of the weekly Socialites feature and runs every other Wednesday. Send Lillie a message on Twitter @LillieReed.