David White, MD
My wife and I were invited to a fundraising dinner with the offer to sit at the sponsored table of a very successful businessman. At least that was my assumption. I mean, who comes to these things let alone sponsors an entire table? I took inventory of this guy, mostly in my peripheral vision, but with darting glances to take in details – a fitted suit, likely crafted somewhere other than western Pennsylvania, thick hair flowing back from low on his forehead in rolling billows, bronze skin held tight to the mountainous bony features of his face—probably just got back from the French Riviera.
I was 26, now married 3 years, making minimum wage, having just faced my 2nd year of med school application rejections. I was sporting my usual wintery pale and wearing a borrowed sports jacket. Are the sleeves supposed to reach the knuckles? I took in the others at the table, no doubt invited for the advantage of their deep pockets. Why am I here? I hope nobody asks me what I do. “David, what do you do?” Apparently, when Adonis speaks, all other conversation halts because I look up to find him and everyone else staring at me. I feel my face turn hot—I’m blushing, and I know it. They all know it. Now I’m blushing because I’m blushing. Please, let me go home.
Betrayed by the Blush
Mark Twain observed that, “Man is the only animal that blushes – or needs to.” In other words, it is man alone who carries the burden of shame. Shame, in this sense, is that embarrassment or humiliation at others knowing that we have committed a wrong. Or perhaps, as was the case for me, it is humiliation in the revelation that we are less than we ought to be. In this case, we so often impose our own perceived inadequacies into the minds of those around us. But even if by luck, those around us are ignorant of our wrongdoing, or have not offered judgment as to our station, it is our own blush that betrays us—confessing what we did not want to be known—guilty—fool—insecure—ashamed.
More often than in the face of guilty judgment, blushing is a response to simply being seen—being known. Being known for who we ‘really are’ is profoundly vulnerable. In the course of a usual day, we fight, consciously and unconsciously to manage our reputations. While some disseminate information for strategic self-promotion, most of us withhold, mask, and cover—offering precious pearls of revelation only to those who have shown themselves trustworthy and safe. But then we slip or maybe take a risk. We let our guard down and reveal just a sliver of who we are—and we are seen—we are known. We blush.
For those who find themselves to be blushers, this glowing expression can occur in the most innocuous of circumstances—receiving a compliment at work, offering a compliment to another, a passing smile from a girl, unexpected eye contact with a boy, a stumble walking up the stairs, dropping something that makes a loud noise, spilling a drink while a guest for dinner, introducing oneself in a group setting… the list goes on. It is not that any one of these circumstances are a violation of a moral code, or that they are shameful in and of themselves. The blush is born out of an acute sense of self—a hyper-self-awareness. The blush, however, comes not only out of a solo sense of self but rather out of the shared experience of being seen by others—I see you seeing me. Marcus Tullius Cicero (circa 56 BC) recognized the intimate nature of this exchange when observing in a letter to his friends, “Now that I am not in your presence, I shall speak out more boldly: a letter does not blush.” How much more is this “courage” expressed today in our unabashed texting and posting?
Designed for Human Intimacy
But what’s the deal, can’t we just decide to not blush? I can hold back tears, I hold in laughter. Why does my face defy my command to stop blushing? Unfortunately, blushing is one of many physiologic responses directed by our sympathetic nervous system, the same system responsible for our fight or flight response. When embarrassed, our brain, against our will perhaps, stimulates our adrenal glands to release adrenaline (epinephrine) at a specific dose that causes our heart to race and blood vessels to dilate. Our face, dense with blood vessels near the skin’s surface, reddens and warms as blood now surges through these dilated vessels. It makes sense—embarrassment—I’m outta here (flight)—blushing.
So, while that may be interesting (or not), how can this response possibly be necessary, or even helpful? While this is a question that continues to be debated, I believe the answer is quite simple. Physical expressions of emotion, when sincere, are truly non-voluntary and in many circumstances insuppressible— a smile, frown, scowl, gasp, laugh, cry…or blush. I believe we were created for relationships, for intimacy, with God (the designer), and with others. Each of these expressions serves as a means towards promoting intimacy, an invitation to those around us to know and share in how we are doing right now, not yesterday or last month, but right now. But unlike laughter and tears, which are to be shared—rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep—blushing is an expression of unanticipated vulnerability and exposure—emotional nakedness. The blush whispers to those around us, “Help…I am exposed and in need covering.” The relational opportunity for the observer is to take note, offer compassion, cover, and protect. To proclaim aloud that they are blushing serves only to amplify their shame. Can we agree to stop doing that?
As for me, I finally got into med school, I’m not as pale, and my suits fit better. I still blush sometimes. But rather than recoiling in shame when I blush, I’m learning to receive it as an opportunity to be known for both my strengths and my frailties.
