Roles

Weirdly enough, the idea for this blog started with Donald Trump. I was thinking about how he plays the character of Donald Trump every day on the campaign trail: the bombastic and alpha male billionaire who will say whatever he wants and take on whoever, no matter how sacred in the establishment. And despite all of what he’s said, none of us really know what he actually believes on policy issues — -he’s given scant details and most of his statements read like populist hyperbole or negotiating opening gambits. By the way, this isn’t to excuse many of the horrible things he’s said. But to me it’s somewhat clear that none of us have any idea what the real Trump believes. He’s just playing the current version of Donald Trump — -the one who’s no longer a Democrat or supporter of Planned Parenthood or friend of the Clintons or many of the other things he used to fund personally.

The scary thing I realized is that I’m not any different. I play the role of Pratyush Buddiga every day and keep the “real me” — -if such a thing even exists — -locked away in a secret place. And so do you. We do or say what’s expected of us. Or what the carefully cultivated image of us would say or do.

I thought about this yesterday when I read one of the most powerful messages I’ve ever read (Stanford letter). It came from a woman who’d been brutally raped while unconscious. Her accuser had gotten off essentially scot-free with the judge claiming the damage to his life would be irrevocable. Her anguish and pain was so eloquently described that you really need to read it for yourself. I was extremely moved and immediately started writing out a tweet sharing it.

But before I could click post (it took me 3 hours and starting to write this blog to do so), something held me back. What was it? Why would people think I posted it? Pratyush Buddiga, the character I play on social media and in the poker world, has always somewhat laughed off or ignored feminism issues. Pratyush Buddiga, the character I play on social media and in the poker world, is known as “PLP” (I’ll spare the acronym details for when my parents or someone like that inevitably reads this. Hit up Joe Ingram if you’re really curious.) Would people think I just posted it to garner sympathy from/slide into the DMs of female followers? Or to try to present myself as a thoughtful person when I really was the poker-obsessed sports fanatic that I’m supposed to be?

I can write out a meaningless sports tweet about the Warriors and click send without a second thought but I can’t share one of the most powerful stories I’d ever read because it went against my brand image as the nonchalant poker player who didn’t really care about what was going in the world outside of ranges and sports? What the fuck? Why?

We are all aware to some degree that we’re on a stage. Once you reach middle school, other people and their opinions of you start becoming inextricably linked with your persona. You start slipping into a role and tie yourself to all parts of that identity: the jock, the nerd, the goth kid, the cheerleader, etc etc. The problem is when that bleeds over into your personality so much that you don’t know where the role ends and you begin. You play the role over and over again with the glimpse of the person you are underneath only rarely appearing.

Sure, there’s character development. No one stays goth forever. But when you gradually slip into a new costume, what happens to you? Is there a ‘real you’ underneath it all? Was there ever? Or are you doomed to be an endlessly shifting chameleon?

Social media has only accelerated this increased Broadway-ization of our own lives. We untag ourselves from photos that aren’t flattering. We post statuses that illustrate the exact specifics of our lives that we want the rest of the world to know. We fill in the blanks of our role so people know exactly what we’re supposed to be like and how we fit into society.

I’m the doting mommy — -look at this picture of me with my kids! I’m a man about town with a ton of friends — look at this snapchat of me at a bar! I’m the too-cool person who always goes against the grain — -fuck Steph Curry and the Warriors! I’m a strong Bernie Sanders supporter — -here’s the 400th link from me in the last month about the evils of Wall Street! I’m a boss poker player traveling the world — here’s a tweet about how much money I gamble for and the next exotic locale I’m going to! And on and on it goes.

Do we believe some of these things? Sure. But it seems like the danger occurs when we let ourselves get away from the intricacies of nuance. We are not preprogrammed robots with one desire or one facet of personality. Here’s one of the best examples of where “playing your role” makes zero sense to me:

Many liberals espouse strong feminist ideals and want to promote the equality of women. Perfectly reasonable. But then when people bring up the dangers of Islamic fundamentalism — -a religion that is inarguably sexist — -these same people will cry racism. What the hell? How does that make any sense?

It’s because the people who usually bring up these dangers of Islam are conservative. The enemy. Soldiers of the right. Everyone else on the liberal side jumps to protest the racism that sometimes can color perspectives of the conservative side. So you too have to slot into your role of opposing them, never mind the pure inanity of supposed “liberals” supporting a religion that treats women like second-class citizens.

It always comes back to roles. What does society expect of me? What do my like-minded friends think? Does this opinion jive with the person I’ve presented myself to be to everyone?

I recently re-read some conversations I had with my first girlfriend back when I was 15. And it just struck me how even though I was naive, fawning, and utterly “lame”…I was honest. I told her how I felt about her, the actual insecurities that bothered me, and whatever thought came into my head. I wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable because I wasn’t worried that she wouldn’t see me as the cool alpha male who’s aloof, suave, and about to knock her off her feet. And then I think about the conversations I have with girls now where almost every word or action is chosen carefully to help cultivate the image that I want to project to them. And I know I’m not the only one. Look at your Tinder bio or Instagram. Every word or picture is tailored for the exact perception you want.

And yea, I know it works. There’s a reason that pickup artist books exist. Most guys by the time they’re 25 know you’re supposed to be more James Bond and less Ted Mosby to have success with lots of girls no matter what Jezebel may tell you. But are those meaningless sexual encounters really giving you anything of value in your life? Do any of these relationships built on falsehood lead to anything outside of a few kids, growing resentment, and eventual divorce? Aren’t you a little sick of pretending to be someone else just to get laid a few more times a year?

To be quite frank, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of playing the role of Pratyush Buddiga, 27 year old professional poker player who supposedly lives a glamorous jet-setting lifestyle. I may not have been cool when I was 15 but at least I was honest. I wasn’t afraid to tell a girl how I felt or what I thought of an issue even if it made me look slightly less than the coolest version of myself. Eventually I may meet someone that is fine with that version of me. And if not, you know what? I’ll be okay. I’d rather be honest with myself and alone than living a constant lie with someone I slowly begin to resent more and more each day for forcing me to play a role.

Now I’m sure many of you are sitting there thinking — -that’s not me! I say what I think! I don’t play roles. Maybe you have that problem, Pratyush, because you’re so much in your own head but that’s not me.

OK then, think about the last time you wrote out a message to someone of the opposite sex and then erased it. You wrote out your true feelings or what you wanted to know but then you deleted it because you were afraid it’d come off as creepy or needy or lame or a host of other reasons designed to protect you from shame. Or started to write out a true status update of your life and then hastily deleted it because it didn’t fit with how people perceived you? What about the time you went to a bar because that’s what people like you are supposed to do on a Friday night? What about the time you were about to retweet a tweet you strongly agreed with but then it conflicted with how you project yourself to the world? How many times have any of us said, “Damn, I shouldn’t have drunk texted (or drunk tweeted) last night. That was crazy! That’s not me at all.” Funny thing is, that drunk text was one of the few actual peeks you have of the person behind the mask: you.

We are more than who we present to social media or even our close friends and family. All of us have secret “guilty” pleasures or desires or aspects of our personality we leave carefully hidden. Instead of thinking about what the character we play would say or do, we should just do what we actually want. We have become glass-eyed zombies, addicted to prescription drugs, weed, and alcohol just in order to just get through our next performance of the day. The fact that “be yourself” is such ubiquitous, yet vague advice indicates the constant tension we have with this problem. If the girl you like thinks you’re lame because you weren’t a debonair emotionally detached dude when texting her, so what? If someone thinks you’re a bad mom because you posted a picture of you drinking wine with your friends, what the hell do they know? If your snapchat doesn’t show you at a bar on a Friday night, does that really mean you’re not cool?

Fuck all that.

It’s just noise.

I’m reminded of a Walt Whitman quote: “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself; I am large, I contain multitudes.”

There’s a real ‘me’ lurking somewhere.

I’m trying to find that person.

You should too.