In small group discussions, it’s become second nature to incorporate throwaway phrases to my responses, such as “But I don’t know,” “I could be wrong,” and “What do you think?” These are my academic filler words, similar to “like” and “um” in conversations with friends. Although under the mask of humility or politeness, the words dilute my credibility, turning meaningful comments into evidence of insecurity.
Even though confidence is a key trait identified in birthday cards addressed to me, I find myself stumbling through these phrases, unable to trust my answers to stand alone. The question remains in my mind: why do we feel the need to be so noncommittal?
Being direct means stating what you want or believe without prevaricating. Expressing oneself clearly requires self-assurance, a quality that many, including myself, are still working on. In high school, being direct fosters self-advocacy and garners trust from others while relieving oneself from seeking outside validation. Being straightforward projects intelligence, but the fear of seeming inconsiderate and rude stops me from fully embracing this self-assurance.
Both girls and boys can struggle with being direct in academic settings. For girls, the standards are higher to be accommodating to others and polite all of the time. This results in diffidence and ambiguity that can bleed into the workplace.
As girls age out of the school system, a lack of confidence seeps into the workplace, a bruise from academic perfectionism. According to a National Bureau of Economic Research paper, women consistently rated their performance lower than their male coworkers, despite performing the same. Men surveyors self-evaluated their performances at an average of 61 out of 100, while the average woman’s score was 46 out of 100. The self-promotion gap makes women less likely to ask for raises and promotions. Confidence gap is far from the only reason women are less prevalent in top jobs; sexism in the workplace and societal expectations contribute as well.
In literature, we have broken into small groups, and, without realizing, I’ve dumbed down my analysis of Okonkwo’s journey in “Things Fall Apart” to sound like a guess. I don’t see myself as unconfident; I enjoy raising my hand in class, even if I dislike being wrong as much as the next person. When I use phrases like “This is probably wrong,” I observe the small cracks in the facade of my self-assurance. Next time I say these words, feel free to find me and slap me in the face in the name of “confidence.”
