“Gifted…”
I
hate that word.
Some
think ‘hate’ is a strong word that should be avoided, or, at least, used with
caution, and they are probably correct. However, as I writer, I have never
shied away from the power of words to create or destroy ideas.
And
I would really like to destroy the word ‘gifted’, or at least the current
meaning it has when used to describe some people.
To
my mind, it is self-serving and even a bit pompous. It is discriminatory in its
exclusive ‘inclusiveness’, an accolade, if not self-bestowed, then all too
readily accepted, one that is beneficial only to the one it is used to describe,
and perhaps not even then, if no good use comes of the skills or abilities the
label implies.
It
also indicates that some of us are, by accident of birth alone, somehow
‘better’ than the rest of us, as if we were preordained or destined to be
special. For all we know, ‘how’ we are may only be an accident of birth, and
nothing else. I think the following exchange from the movie Troy (2004) best expresses how I feel
about being called ‘gifted’.
Briseis: "Why did you choose this life?"
Achilles: "What life?"
Briseis: "To be [a great warrior?]" [gifted?]
Achilles: "I chose nothing. I was born and this is what I am."
***
I
have several reasons for feeling this way, all from lessons hard earned, maybe
even required.
When
I was a child, my parents noticed that teachers would send me home regularly with admonishments and punishments for things that they knew I had not done. (I rarely
spoke a word in school during my elementary years, preferring to keep my hands
folded on my desk, and kept its as close to the
teacher's desk as possible. Moreover, I always turned my assignments on time,
usually before time.)
So
why was I being so regularly disciplined? It was done to save me from the wrath
of the other students, the so-called ‘non-gifted’ ones.
One
of my teachers explained:
Having
seen a far crueler type of punishment meted out to me on the playground during
recess, she had decided that it was better to punish me with the rest of the
class rather than single me out for my grades or other accomplishments, thus inadvertently belittling and most likely infuriating the other children. (I wrote my first short
story before most of my classmates had even learned to read, I was also already
an accomplished artist before most of them mastered writing their names.)
The
teachers knew that, growing up around the Cabrini-Green area of Chicago's Near North Side during the hellish 60s must
have been a particularly difficult ordeal for a quiet child who displayed such
a wide range of ‘peculiar’ interests. This behavior could be especially dangerous
in a neighborhood where standing out in such a manner would only result in retaliatory actions from ‘less accomplished’ classmates
at the first opportunity. (Less accomplished does not mean less human,
just as being considered ‘gifted’ does not equate with being ‘more’ than human, special, or privileged.)
Unfortunately,
for me, it would be several years before the full list of these ‘peculiar skills’
had fully revealed themselves to my teachers, my classmates, my parents, and
me. Each newly discovered ability brought along with it another, darker ‘gift’, another
reason I dislike the word. That dark gift was animosity, jealousy, miscomprehension
and exclusion.
I
learned early that being ‘different’ (I’m purposely avoiding using the world
‘gifted’ here), that being different should
not be used to single out an individual, or to raise him or her above his or
her peers.
Among the young, it antagonizes and provokes.
Among adults, it induces
suspicion, envy, and barely concealed animosity, and most of all, intense jealousy bordering on hatred.
Singling
someone out as ‘gifted’ does exactly that, singles them out, elevates, and
ultimately ostracizes them from the ‘non-gifted’ majority. This type of elevation
does not usually sit well with those 'normal' mortals left on the ground, and can
make living and working with them difficult.
So
I learned to avoid the label, whether it was administered as a compliment or not.
I even began to hide certain things about me to avoid being branded with it, a moniker which I grew to regret.
In
my opinion, this use of the word, especially in this context, is a perversion
of the original concept. A gift of this type serves no one if it serves only one, and serves no one at all
if the most important element of the gift is the label itself, and nothing
concrete or practical comes of it. A ‘gift’ of this type, that only serves to single out and elevate certain (apparently random) individuals,
unless accompanied by considerable accomplishment, is just an empty conceit, and an
indulgence of the ego, and little else.
”When you’re smart, people need
you. You can use your mind creatively.” Quote from Real Genius (1985)
***
My
other problem with the word is way it is it bestowed, and how it is almost
‘greedily’ received, and how vainly displayed. Lifting oneself up as gifted
above all others (or ‘some’ others) is also separating
oneself from others, until there are no ‘others’ left from which to be
separated.
For
the label to have any real meaning,
the gift should somehow, in some way large, small, or in between, manifest
itself to the benefit of not just the recipient, but some other inhabitant of
this world other than the one it is
supposed to describe.
Only
then is the word restored to its true meaning, by elevating a spirit, improving
the human condition, or even just one other person in need of inspiration or
hope.
I
think I’d rather be called a contributor or ‘gifter’ than gifted.
https://evolution-institute.org/contributors/
