Walking on Eggshells in a Social Web

Nov 30 , 2024
By Carolyn Kissane

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Our choices come with hidden social costs. Sometimes, they are as trivial as deciding where to shop, but even these small decisions can reveal the dynamics of human interactions and the pressures that come with them.

Last week, I found myself taking an unfamiliar route home. It was not because I wanted a change of scenery or was exploring new path. It was because of a three-liter bottle of cooking oil I had bought from a merchant other than my neighborhood shopkeeper. I knew my usual shop only sold oil in one-liter or five-liter quantities, but that wasn’t the only issue. The shopkeeper has a knack for making customers feel scrutinized, slipping in comments about their choices. He would say that we only come to his store when it suits us, half-joking, half-serious. I did not want to face that critique, so I detoured to avoid him.

This minor evasion got me thinking about the weight we give to others’ opinions and how it shapes our behaviors. My decision was not about saving face but about maintaining a sense of peace. Yet, the irony was not lost on me. By avoiding a brief, potentially uncomfortable interaction, I had created more discomfort for myself—a longer walk, the weight of the oil, and the gnawing self-awareness of having gone out of my way to dodge an imagined judgment.

Living within a community feels like living under constant observation. It is not always malicious; people take note of routines, preferences, and absences as a natural part of sharing a space. But this benign surveillance can sometimes morph into a subtle form of control. The shopkeeper’s comment was a reminder of the unspoken rules that demand loyalty, reciprocity, and acknowledgment.

Every choice is a statement. But how often do we weigh our decisions against the potential judgment of others?

For many, this mental calculation is an automatic reflex. Whether it is choosing what to wear, deciding what to say, or determining the best route home, we are constantly assessing how our actions might be perceived.

This emotional tax can be exhausting. It creates a constant tension between our needs and the expectations of those around us. It also breeds a culture of avoidance, where moments of potential confrontation are sidestepped instead of addressed. My decision to take a detour was a textbook example: I prioritised avoiding discomfort over efficiency, only to end up feeling more burdened.

Moments like these beg the question: How do we reclaim our authenticity in a world deeply connected with expectations? Perhaps it starts with small acts of courage and choosing to face a shopkeeper’s critique, expressing an unpopular opinion, or simply letting go of the need to explain ourselves. These acts might feel risky in the moment, but they are also opportunities to reinforce our autonomy.

Communities thrive on connection, and connection requires vulnerability. But vulnerability does not mean conformity. It means showing up as we are, even when it feels uncomfortable. The next time I find myself weighed down by others’ judgments, I will try to remember that the path of least resistance is not always the one that leads home.

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PUBLISHED ON Nov 30,2024 [ VOL 25 , NO 1283]

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