Of all the things in life I have grown irate toward, the constant draining nature of being a social chameleon is what I hate the most.
For the longest time, I have prided myself on my ability to adapt to any new social situation. In high school, I found myself involved–to varying degrees–with many social groups or cliques. Any time I would be randomly placed in a group with other students I did not know well, I could manage to strike up a relatable conversation at the drop of a hat.
In college, I wore my “social chameleon” badge with honor. I regularly described myself as the eponymous creature and constantly found myself fulfilling the narrative by changing my personality to match the energy of every classroom or group I entered.
Every personality test I was either forced to take or conducted within my free will told me the same tale: “You are able to adapt to any situation.” I would be able to blend in with many social environments or possess such a strong amount of social awareness that it could be considered a superpower. However, no one ever warned me about how massively draining being a social chameleon could be.
One of the major benefits of being a social chameleon is never feeling awkward or isolated in any new social situation I am in. I am able to quickly assert the vibes of the environment and adapt my personality to fit in and not alienate myself, yet this supposed benefit also comes at the risk of my mental stability.
Having to constantly change how I approach certain groups or individuals requires a lot of mental work that drains my energy. There is a subconscious need to perform that is continuously present when in the integrated spaces I have adapted to. Despite how tiring it has become, I have observed how much easier the ability has gotten over time.
However, my high school and college years do not provide the earliest memories I have of being a social chameleon.
I recently had a conversation with an older Black gentleman who works at the local library. During our lengthy conversation full of my failed utilization of Gen Z humor (a heavy emphasis on sarcasm and self-deprecation), we dove into the reasoning behind my dislike of acquiring a southern accent. The conversation was eye-opening as it led to how unconsciously race plays a part in my sense of self and my role as a social chameleon through code-switching.
For those unaware, code-switching is “the practice of shifting the languages you use or the way you express yourself in your conversations,” according to NPR. It is a practice heavily prevalent in marginalized groups and something I have been aware of doing ever since I was young.
During elementary school was the first instance in which I noticed I changed the way I speak to others. I felt like I was already aware of how I would be perceived if I spoke my family’s southern twang of African American Vernacular English, or AAVE, in the predominantly white, “gifted” circles of my school. It was the earliest iteration of my future social chameleon personality, propelling me into years of unnoticed depletions of my social battery.
I am sure others, who consider themselves social chameleons, feel the same way I do. Being a social chameleon is a highly draining social practice that while beneficial in alleviating awkwardness, has made me feel mentally exhausted. I do not know how we can alleviate the seemingly universal stress, but I hope fellow social chameleons understand that I stand in solidarity with you.
Trey Barrett is a graduate student studying film at Ohio University. Please note that the views and opinions of the columnists do not reflect those of The Post. Want to talk more about it? Let Trey know by emailing him at tb222023@ohio.edu.
