The recognition of the eye as a means of
communication,
or of a look as having special significance is
nothing new.
Looking is something that has always had strong
emotions
attached to it and has been forbidden, under certain
circumstances, in prehistory and legend. Lot's wife
was
turned to a pillar of salt for looking back, and
Orpheus
lost Eurydice by looking at her. Adam, when he
tasted
the fruit of knowledge, was afraid to look at God.
The significance of looking is universal, but
usually
we are not sure of just how we look or how we are
looked
at. Honesty demands, in our culture, that we look
someone
straight in the eye. Other cultures have other
rules,
as a principal in a New York City high school
recently
discovered. A young girl at the high school, a
fifteen-year-old
Puerto Rican, had been caught in the washroom with a
group of girls suspected of smoking. Most of the
group
were known troublemakers, and while this young girl,
Livia, had no record, the principal after a brief
interview
was convinced of her guilt and decided to suspend
her
with the others.
' It wasn't what she said,' he reported later.' It
was simply
her attitude. There was something sly and suspicious
about her. She just wouldn't meet my eye. She
wouldn't
look at me.'
It was true. Livia at her interview with the
principal
stared down at the floor in what was a clear-cut
guilty
attitude and refused to meet his eyes.
' But she's a good girl,' Livia's mother insisted.
Not to
the school, for she was too much of a 'troublemaker'
the
principal felt, to come to the authorities with her
protest.
Instead, she turned to her neighbours and friends.
As a
result there was a demonstration of Puerto Rican
parents
at the school the next morning and the ugly
stirrings of a
threatened riot.
Fortunately, John Flores taught Spanish literature
at
the school, and John lived only a few doors from
Livia
and her family. Summoning his own courage, John
asked
for an interview with the principal.
'I know Livia and her parents,' he told the
principal.
'And she's a good girl. I am sure there has been
some mistake
in this whole matter.'
'If there was a mistake,' the principal said
uneasily, 'I'll
be glad to rectify it. There are thirty mothers
outside
yelling for my blood. But I questioned the child
myself,
and if ever I saw guilt written on a face - she
wouldn't
even meet my eyes!'
John drew a sigh of relief, and then very carefully,
for he was
too new in the school to want to tread on toes, he
too new in the school to want to tread on toes, he
explained some basic facts of Puerto Rican culture
to the
principal.
' In Puerto Rico a nice girl, a good girl,' he
explained,
' does not meet the eyes of an adult. Refusing to do
so is a
sign of respect and obedience. It would be as
difficult for
Livia to look you in the eye as it would be for her
to
misbehave, or for her mother to come to you with a
complaint.
In our culture, this is just not accepted behaviour
for a respectable family.'
Fortunately the principal was a man who knew how to
admit that he was wrong. He called Livia and her
parents
and the most vocal neighbours in and once again
discussed
the problem. In the light of John Flores'
explanation
it became obvious to him that Livia was not avoiding
his eyes out of defiance, but out of a basic
demureness.
Her slyness, he now saw, was shyness. In fact, as
the
conference progressed and the parents relaxed, he
realized
that Livia was indeed a gentle and sweet girl.
The outcome of the entire incident was a deeper,
more
meaningful relationship between the school and the
community
- but that, of course, is another story. What is of
particular interest in this story is the strange
confusion of
the principal. How did he so obviously misinterpret
all
the signals of Livia's behaviour?
Livia was using body language to say, 'I am a good
girl. I respect you and the school. I respect you
too much
to answer your questions, too much to meet your eyes
with shameless boldness, too much to defend myself.
But surely my very attitude tells you all this.'
How could such a clear-cut message be interpreted
as,
' I defy you. I will not answer your questions. I
will not
look you in the eyes because I am a deceitful child.
I will
evade your questions slyly—' The answer of course is
a cultural one.
Different cultures have different customs and, of course, different
Different cultures have different customs and, of course, different
body language. They also have different looks and
different
meanings to the same looks.
In America, for instance, a man is not supposed to
look at a woman for any length of time unless she
gives
him her permission with a body-language signal, a
smile,
a backward glance, a direct meeting of his eye. In
other
countries different rules apply.
In America, if a woman looks at a man for too long a
period of time, she commits herself to a verbal
approach.
Her signal says, ' I am interested. You can approach
me.'
In Latin countries, though freer body movements are
permissible, such a look might be a direct
invitation to a
physical 'pass'. It becomes obvious then why a girl
like
Livia would not look the principal in the eye.
Again, in America, two men are not allowed to stare
at each other for more than a brief period of time
unless
they intend to fight or to become intimate. Any man
who
looks at another man for too long embarrasses and
annoys
him and the other man begins to wonder just what he
wants.
This is another example of the rigidity of the rule
of
looking. If someone stares at us and we meet his eye
and
catch him staring, it is his duty to look away
first. If he
does not look away as we engage his eye, then we
become
uncomfortable and aware that something is wrong.
Again we
become embarrassed and annoyed.
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