As a freshman in college, I recently entered into a completely foreign environment and had to attempt to make friends. This proved to be easier said than done. I grew up in a very small town with the same few hundred or so peers, most of whom had been in my social sphere since we were babies. My hometown friendships were built on a foundation 18 years in the making–they had time to ebb and flow and provided safety to miss a beat without the fear of the friendship fizzling out.
Consequently, upon arriving at Brown, I often felt uncomfortable navigating new situations and social dynamics. In every conversation I had with a new person, I was acutely aware of how often I was smiling, if my jokes were landing, and how long I was going to have to keep this up.
Again and again, I was given the same advice-–fake it ‘till you make it. Put on a smile and pretend you’re having a great time! If you want to go home, just dive deeper into your clubs and activities!
This advice never stuck for long in my mind, but when Marty Supreme took over the screen at my local Showcase Cinema, it immediately monopolized my thinking. Was this really the right way to climb up in life? Should we all be like Marty, constantly running 10 schemes and fixing problems as they pop up in a real life game of Whac-A-Mole?
Now, Marty was a hustler like no other. While there was no way I could ever be as sly as him, I was mesmerized by the way he thought on his feet and lied like no other. It was enticing, the idea that if we fake a strong sense of confidence and adopt a new persona we can achieve things our true selves might never get close to.That maybe, with the right scheme, I too could ascend in my personal version of ping pong.
However, the longer I sat with that idea in my movie theater leather recliner, the more uneasy it made me feel. Marty’s performance never ended, even when he was alone. It seemed exhausting–keeping track of what lies you told to whom, of which version of yourself you were supposed to inhabit in that moment–and more importantly, seemed completely unsustainable.
I walked away from Marty Supreme with a new understanding of the usefulness of “faking it ‘till you make it.” Faking confidence can help you walk into a room full of strangers, approach intimidating conversations, or go to a club meeting by yourself. In these moments, acting in dissonance with how you’re feeling helps you expand your comfort zone and grow as a person.
Where this advice falls apart is when faking it becomes a way to silence discomfort rather than learning to adapt to it. Staying at a party that isn’t any fun for you because you think you’re supposed to. Hanging out with people who aren’t a good fit because they seem “cooler” than the people who are actually nice to you. In these situations, plastering on a smile acts as a bandaid to cover up discomfort and doesn’t help you grow.
In watching Marty Supreme, I realized true social prowess doesn’t come from putting on a constant performance, but from knowing when to perform and when to be your honest self. Fake it when it helps you take risks you otherwise wouldn’t dream of. Fake it when it helps you immerse yourself in a new environment and forces you to sit in discomfort, because this is where growth occurs. But, when pretending to be someone else costs you your morals and sense of self, drop the Marty Supreme act. College, and life, aren’t games you win by staying one step ahead. They’re processes that take time, honesty, and the courage to stop performing. Need some more advice on navigating friendships in college? Check out How to Feel Closer to Your Friends.