Wellness Culture, Achievement, And Masking
I grew up in a time when people had to “look the part” to claim authority. "Looking the part" is rooted in so much bias and many negative stereotypes and I'm heartened by how much has changed about how we dress for work. But tons of us are still masking to get ahead. Masking is “a defensive behavior in which an individual conceals their natural personality or behavior in response to social pressure, abuse, or harassment.”
HR leader Laurie Ruettimann experienced this firsthand coming up in corporate America. "I started to conflate my identity with my job title," she explains. "I believed I had to wear a mask. I bought sensible slacks and cardigans, got French manicures, bobbed my hair, and covered my tattoos. I shopped at Talbot's petites, thinking this would make me look like the professional HR leader my boss wanted me to be. I convinced myself this mask would protect me while keeping my internal self intact. But eventually, work consumed me, and I forgot.
"Masking takes many forms – being thin, coloring our hair, wearing wigs, our fashion choices. While it helped me build a career and move from difficult circumstances to a privileged life, it came at a cost," she says.
"Now I try to be kinder to myself. I work with a therapist who specializes in women's bodies and diet culture. I understand that masking is often necessary in our capitalistic, patriarchal society, but we need to be intentional about it. Some forms of masking – like using hairspray occasionally – won't cause lasting harm. The key is making conscious choices and ensuring we're not compromising our core selves. Living thoughtfully and bringing that awareness to our decisions is the important work we all need to do." Listen to my conversation with Laurie here.
What’s Wellness Culture Masking?
I love to listen to podcasts like The Huberman Lab. I love Crossfit. But I think that a lot of the business leaders I see who are obsessed with their bodies have embraced a trendier way to “look the part.” I think working out a ton and achieving “wellness” is also a way we mask- for men and women. Visible muscles can hide a lot of pain (and sometimes a bicep is just a bicep. I get it).
“I took pride in wearing tank tops.” I read that line in an essay by writer and software developer Emi Nietfeld and I felt an intense wave of recognition. I knew what she means. Walking around in a tank top to show off lean muscle speaks volumes. It says, “I’m so disciplined. Look what I can give up to achieve this.”
Emi’s is the story of a homeless teen who channeled her anxiety into perfectionism with incredible academic and athletic achievement – but at enormous cost to her body and her mental health. Listen:
Emi worked her way into scholarships at boarding school and then at Harvard University. She felt pressure to achieve because she had no family support, no other options. Only a school like Harvard would award her a full scholarship, and so Harvard it had to be. And so Nietfield crafted an uncomplicated narrative that “adults wanted to hear” – a narrative that minimized her pain and emphasized her resilience. “I was supposed to exemplify post-traumatic growth, not post-traumatic stress,” says Nietfield.
It worked: people loved the simplicity of her “hard work got me here” story. She did not show her scars, or speak of her pain, or admit her total lack of economic security. Instead, she tapped into one of our most powerful and pernicious societal myths: if you have enough grit, you can survive anything and in the end you’ll win.
Nietfield had already learned to survive suffering, and she also learned that looking a certain way generates social praise and acceptance. This toxic duality found its outlet for Nietfeld in rowing on the Harvard crew team. She “used rowing to replace self-harm” and fed her perfectionism. In the Northeast United States, nothing is more elite than rowing. It’s one of the most physically challenging sports for a body.
“No one would see me in my uniform and think I needed help,” writes Nietfeld. “I relished that illusion, despite its perils: I wouldn’t seek professional therapy for years, a reckoning that might have come sooner if I’d embraced a less sanctioned coping mechanism, like alcohol or drugs.”
Working out a ton is a socially acceptable way to express anxiety, pain, and fear, but it can also be harmful. Exercise is good for your mental health, but over-exercising can actually damage your mental and physical health. We prize stories of people who overcame trauma with great physical feats.
But these ideals of grit, discipline, and working through pain can drive us to hurt ourselves through exercise and closely monitored eating. When I’m really anxious, I stop eating and I exercise a lot more. It’s how my perfectionism shows up. When people tell me maybe I should eat more, I take that on as a badge of honor-- I must be doing something right!
Nietfeld used over-exercise to avoid a lot of painful emotions, and in the process prematurely aged her body, developing injuries and terrible chronic pain.
In our interview, Emi and I dive deep into the role that over-exercise and the “grit myth” play in mental health. We all see the messages everyday: from Peloton to Under Armour advertising, we’re told that we can turn pain and trauma into achievement and beauty.
There’s a difference between the pursuit of excellence through sport, and the use of physical exertion to tune out powerful feelings. We can not redeem pain through achievement, physical or other.
Morra
Tell me what you think. Why is wellness culture so prevalent in corporate culture?