She Said: She Said: Smile and nod

 
It's great to be blonde. I have a built-in excuse for any stupid thing that I do. My new favorite "stupid" pastime is petting the stray cats in the Rova, the Jewish Quarter of Jerusalem's Old City. Those cats are tame and friendly, and they offer a good break from my national service. When people see me petting cats they look at me and smile and nod, thinking I'm  a "blond." The truth is that my stupidity has no connection to my hair, as seen by the fact that many brunettes are stupid, too. When I catch someone of a different hair color acting dimwitted, all I can do is smile and nod.

For instance, a few weeks ago, when I was petting a purring and nuzzling cat, while seated on a bench in the Rova, a pair of tourists sat down next to me. About a minute after the tourists sat down, someone I knew came over. I turned to talk to her. The cat, offended that I had stopped petting it (I'm blond; I can do only one thing at a time) jumped off of my lap and started to smell the tourists and their pizza. By the time I turned back to the cat, it was eating the tourists' pizza and they were cleaning it with a baby wipe.

"She's covered in dust," the tourist explained to me.

I smiled and nodded.

After finishing the pizza, the cat jumped back onto my lap. The tourist offered me the baby wipe to finish cleaning the cat. I didn't explain to her that the cat would only get dirty again, or that cats know how to clean themselves. I merely smiled at her, again, and told her "no thanks."

The "smile and nod" is a great defense mechanism, unless those individuals against who it is employed catch on. A smile and nod differs greatly from a "grin and bear it." The latter is what you do when you have no choice about a matter; you have to do it. That's the "bear" part. The "grin" is that you might as well do it happily.

"Smile and nod" is different. That gesture contains a special nod which actually means "no." When you smile and nod at someone, you are actually saying you think they are stupid. There is nothing affirmative about that nod, rather, it shows you are amused.

By the way, "smile and nod" can be used at home, too. My mom asked me to clean my room this morning. I smiled, nodded, and turned to the next page of my book.

-Becca

To me, "smiling and nodding" is the art of containing one's strong feelings in the face of blindness to social norms, in the face of ineptitude, or in the face downright meanness. This behavior is one way in which folks can stay detached when confronted with provocations. It is an inappropriate means of dealing with abusive or with otherwise toxic interactions, but it's suitable for mundane stupidity.

Although some articulated irritations hurt worse than ant bites or first degree burns, such annoyances are often best left alone, i.e. devoid of further stimuli. Consider, as a case in point, the woman, with whom I yet remain pals, who said, "Channie, you've lost weight. You must have been beautiful once." Alternatively, regard the child for whom I dragged myself out of bed extra early, after a late night of problem solving with that kid's sibling, who announced, "But I don’t want your blessings for the new school year. You're such a nerd. You don't understand teenagers."

My husband fails to grasp why I tolerate such verbal arrows. While he's not of the opinion that I ought to return or even to deflect such shows of aggression, he does believe that I ought not to have to endure such chinwagging. Unfortunately, short of avoiding all of my friends and family, I am unable to comply with his wishes.

Rather, I assess my dear ones' nasty words for what they are, rhetorical debris that gets mixed up in interpersonal communication. I can no more prevent those close associates from dropping rhetorical crumbs on me, intentionally or otherwise, than I can keep visitors from tracking all manners of dirt into my home. In either case, my best strategy remains determining whether and when it's worth cleaning up what's left behind, "cleaning up" if necessary and then leaving matters alone.

This morning, for instance, one of my cherished people asked to borrow my cellphone since that individual forgot theirs at a friend's house. Likewise, minutes earlier, I received a call from a hairdresser who was cancelling me and my daughters' long awaited appointments because a more lucrative deal - eight women who wanted hairdos for a wedding - had come through. In the former case, I mildly replied, "No, you may not." In the latter case, I scheduled time for us with another stylist. In both cases, I just smiled and nodded.

-Channie