NYC-Feature Story

Too Nice for My Own Good?
No one sees behind my automatic smile

By Orubba Almansouri

My family and I were sitting down after lunch one day about four years ago, and I was sitting next to my uncle, who was about 23 at that time. The whole family was talking loudly, when suddenly, SLAP—he hit me across the face.

“Lower your voice,” he said, in his grump voice. He’s always mad.

I looked at him for a second and then said, “My voice is not the only high one here, everyone is talking.” And it was true—everyone’s voice was high, but he picked me to slap.

“It’s just a slap,” he said. “It wasn’t even hard.”

“I’m the one who got slapped. How do you know if it hurts or not?”

“Because I am the one that slapped,” he said, and everyone laughed. “Wait, are you mad?” he asked. “Since when do you get mad?”

My uncle was right about this. I almost never get mad. If I do, I rarely show it and even when I show it, I get over it easily. That makes me a target to family and friends who would rather pick on me than, for example, my sister L, who is a very sensitive person and hard to win back once you’ve upset her. I joke around a lot at home, and most of the time I enjoy my laid-back personality. But sometimes I do get upset, and at those times I wish that I could show my anger and hold onto it so that people would be more careful about my feelings.

Private Tears

The day my uncle slapped me in the living room, I actually smiled when he joked about it and everyone else was laughing. After that, another topic opened and it was like nothing ever happened. I went along with everyone and acted fine. But even though I went along with them in ignoring it, it bothered me that they didn’t seem to care about my uncle slapping me. I waited a while and then went to my room.

I cried real tears, because I felt that I’d lost my pride. Getting slapped affects a person’s dignity. I cried both out of anger at my uncle and out of frustration at my own behavior. You shouldn’t have to change the way you act just for people to treat you with respect, but I knew that by not showing him I was mad, I was letting him get away with it.

I’m so used to smiling that sometimes it feels like an automatic, uncontrollable reaction. My face turns into a smile when someone jokes around with me, even if I’m hurt by what they say. And to stop smiling for long is hard for me.

For example, one day at school I tried to be mad at my friend when she did something really stupid. But my effort only lasted 54 minutes, until I saw her between periods and she came over to me. I tried to look mad out of principle, but because I have no patience doing something I don’t feel like doing, I started laughing and we were talking again, just like that.

In a way my automatic smile is good because when you keep acting one way you start to feel it, even if you didn’t when you started. On the other hand, smiling can fool people into thinking that I feel one way and not the other. It says to my friends and my family that even if they hurt me, all they have to do is show up in front of me and I’ll start talking to them.

Imagine you have two shirts, one you bought for a lot of money and one that didn’t cost that much. Which one do you care most about? Most of the time it’s the expensive one; you take extra care not to spill anything on it because it’s valuable to you. Sometimes I feel like I am the cheap shirt, and that feeling is not good. People don’t think they have to be careful or watch their words with me, because they don’t think they’ll hurt me.

Preserving My Image

But if I was like my sister L, people would see me crying, and I don’t want them to see me looking weak. I don’t want to change the portrait they have of me, which is of someone who is easygoing and cool. It’s good to have people to wipe away your tears and a shoulder to cry on, and if I want I could go to anyone and talk out my problems and cry. But something inside me stops me from doing that, saying, “Wait, where are you going? This is not you. You’re strong; you don’t need to rely on anyone.”

I know that showing your emotions can actually be a sign of strength because it shows you’re able to lay your cards out in the open. But I’m not open to others about my problems and that’s just the type of person I am. I only want to be like my sister when I’m hurt. When I feel better, I actually thank God that I am who I am, able to calm myself down and figure out my own problems.

In fact, I love my personality more than I wish that I could change it. I’ve always been the joker of the family, the crazy one who loves to play around. I’m the one who will turn a boring party into fun, and I’m the most talkative in my family, the one they tell, “Grow up.” My personality makes it easier for me to meet new people and be friends with them, because I am talkative, a good listener, and I like to joke. It makes it obvious to people that I’m friendly.

Proud of My Big Heart

When L is mad, she makes other people feel frustrated and confused. But life is hard enough on all of us; we shouldn’t make it harder for one another. I tend to remember the happy times more then the sad anyway, so I forget easily when I’m hurt. And when I make people smile, it’s like I’m giving food to hungry people.

A lot of people have told me that I have a big and pure heart, and that there aren’t many people in the world with personalities like mine. They make me feel proud when they say that, and I believe it. I love meeting new people and I’m not waiting for anything from them. I just want to be friendly and have fun, and anger is the number one enemy of fun.

I’m not sure I can control my personality, but if I could, I would only change it a little. I don’t want to be too emotional and stay angry all day, but when I’m hurt, I don’t want everything to continue like nothing happened.

Looking back at that day when my uncle slapped me, I think I should have reacted in another way. I should have let him know I was hurt, by telling him so or by simply not talking to him for a while, at least for the rest of the day. I might consider fixing points like that about my personality, as long as it won’t damage the things about my personality that I love—like my ability to enjoy myself and the world around me.

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