The other day, a friend of mine who had just taken up a new job was telling me about how he was finding it hard to adjust to his new workplace. Normally quite friendly, he was now finding it difficult to strike a casual conversation with his new colleagues.

“I think I’ve become very antisocial,” he said to me.

“You’re still adjusting to this place. Give it some time,” I replied.

“But I can’t stay like this forever. I don’t want to be such an introvert!” he said indignantly.

“What’s wrong with being an introvert?” I asked.

“Dude! Being an introvert is never a good thing!” he replied, apparently surprised that I managed to even think such a question.

But as a lifelong introvert, I felt a little vexed at this response. I’ve heard it repeated to me in so many different forms over so many years that I’ve developed a thick skin for it. But in cases like this, it still irritates me. The idea behind such blunt responses – that introversion is somehow a limitation that needs to be overcome – needs serious rethinking. Susan Cain, an American author, and self-professed introvert, has written extensively on how modern society undervalues the traits and capabilities of introverts. She also explains this in her famous TED Talk. But while her ideas mainly focus on Western society, it wouldn’t be wrong to suggest that her ideas extend fairly well to Indian society too. I’d like to touch upon some of Cain’s ideas and expand on them using my own experiences.

We live in a talkative world. Current research estimates that 50 to 74 percent of individuals are extroverts. Introverts, on the other hand, range from 16 to 50 percent. While no one is a total introvert or extrovert, most of us lean towards either one of these extremes to varying degrees. Some people identify as ambiverts and fall somewhere in the middle of this introvert-extrovert spectrum. But regardless of how you look at it, introverts are definitely the quietest of the lot, and in a world that can’t stop talking, we don’t have it easy.

Owing to our relatively little communication, we’re constantly expected to explain ourselves to those around us. This usually starts within just ten minutes of meeting a new and typically more outgoing person for the first time. After the first few painful minutes of small talk, it becomes apparent that the conversation is heading nowhere. That’s when this person decides to spring the “Why are you so quiet?” trope. Sometimes, this takes other forms, ranging from the mildly curious “Are you always this quiet?” to the somewhat more subtle “Are you like this with everyone?” to the more candid “You REALLY need to talk more.”

These questions can get annoying after a point. If you’re anything like me, you probably know how it feels. If not, you might be the one who’s at the other end of such conversations. To the latter, don’t worry, your curiosity (or should I say indignation?) is completely understandable, and chances are I might have done the same if the tables were turned.

Oddly though, my own quietness didn’t start off as a problem. At school, I was always the quietest person in class, and during my initial years, this was always projected as a good thing. I suppose being the only kid who wasn’t screaming his lungs out naturally attracted more favour from teachers. At the time, being quiet was also associated with good behaviour. But things began to change after some years. At the annual parent-teacher meetings, the teachers’ feedback gradually changed from “Your son is so quiet and well behaved” to “Your son needs to open up more. He needs to come out of his shell.”

This brings me back to my earlier point about the idea of introversion being an unfavourable trait that needs to be ‘grown out of’. So where did this belief stem from? For starters, let’s look at some of the typical traits associated with both extroverts and introverts. Extroverts are enthusiastic, social, assertive and, most importantly, they talk. They thrive around large groups of people, enjoy attention and quite often make good team players. All of these are considered necessary traits to survive in today’s world. On the other hand, introverts are seemingly just the opposite. They are quiet, reserved and less overtly expressive. They thrive in solitude and don’t do very well in large crowds, instead preferring to indulge in activities that don’t involve too many people. These traits are seemingly incongruent with today’s fast-paced and increasingly interconnected lifestyle.

By its very nature, extroversion has emerged as the dominant trait in our culture. As a result, our culture is naturally designed, either consciously or unconsciously, in favour of the extrovert, apparently making introversion, as Cain puts it, “a second-class trait”. On an individual level, the issue begins right in our childhood. As children, we don’t find anything wrong with being quiet, and we’re quite content when left to our own devices – until for the first time, someone comes up to us and asks “Why are you so quiet?”

Although perhaps asked out of genuine curiosity, this question instils in us the notion that we’re somehow not quite right, thereby planting the need to change ourselves to be accepted by the mainstream. Over time, this idea reinforces itself many times over through different people and circumstances until some of us are painfully conscious of the fact that we don’t talk as much as we supposedly should.

Shyness and introversion are really two different traits which are often confused to be synonymous with each other. While introversion is a personality trait where individuals thrive in solitude, shyness is a feeling of self-consciousness that results from exposure to unfamiliar situations. Many introverts are incorrectly labelled as shy, but the two traits are not completely unrelated. In my own case, I spent a large chunk of my childhood and adolescence under the idea that my quietness was a limitation. So when it came to meeting new people, I felt very unequipped. So I was both shy and an introvert.

Like many introverts, I was always encouraged to get out and socialise with others. But when I attempted to do this, my quietness was often noted by the other person in ways that made me feel uncomfortably conscious of myself. I would start conversations seemingly well by my standards only to have them ask me why I was so quiet. Talking to people was something that I mostly forced myself to do, not something that came to me naturally, and such people made it a lot harder. Looking back on it now, it was always with those who never questioned my quietness with whom I was able to enjoy the best relationships. To the rest, I responded with varying degrees of awkwardness.

To be fair, these efforts by the adults in my life to help me socialise weren’t entirely wrong. Being able to communicate and deal with people is a necessary life skill. Man is, in the end, a social animal. But at that age, constantly being reminded from all corners that we’re not good enough if we don’t socialise can cause enough low self-esteem in the long run. And for a long time, this was the case with me.

In my teen years, and even for some time after, I had this ideal version of myself in my head – one where I was very social, had a sizeable set of friends and could talk confidently on stage (yes, stage-fright was another one of my shortcomings) among other things that I was taught to believe were right. However, I was everything that this ‘ideal’ version of me wasn’t. This was a cause for significant self-conflict particularly before I started college, when I wanted to take up a programme in Media Studies, a subject that was supposedly better suited to more outgoing individuals. I chose to take it up anyway, and even before I just started college, I was told that perhaps this would be the trigger that would finally help me “come out of my shell”.

Now, let’s pause and examine this ‘shell’ for a moment. By its very nature, a shell is a limitation – one that is supposed to be grown out of to enjoy greater possibilities in life. It is an excellent metaphor for one’s comfort zone. On a more physical level, a shell could also signify a cocoon that keeps one cut off from the rest of the world. The latter meaning, especially, seems quite befitting of introverts, considering that we’re seen by some as ‘cut off from the crowd’. The shell analogy is an interesting one, but is it really the right one to describe introversion? Is introversion really a limitation as so many people seem to believe? And are we really that isolated from everyone else? I’ll answer the latter question first.

Introverts are not as aloof as so people assume, and neither are shy people for that matter. We’re just very selective when it comes to choosing whom we talk to. We find it difficult, and sometimes disagreeable, to talk to people whose wavelengths don’t match ours. Since there aren’t many out there who do, we usually don’t have as many friends as most extroverts. We’re comfortable with a certain set of people, and when we meet a new person, it takes time for us to get used to them and form a friendship with them. This quality is not a setback. On the contrary, it’s one that can be very useful. Since there’s usually a relatively small group of people that we’d like to talk to, we usually tend to build relationships wisely. But this doesn’t mean we’re immune from making mistakes.

Now let’s return to the first question. Is introversion really a setback that needs to be dealt with?

Solitude is perhaps the most underrated of human necessities. The concept of the ‘solitary seeker’ is one that’s been romanticised, and even revered, throughout history, with figures like Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed. But today, it’s almost impossible to go to the movie theatre or eat at a restaurant alone without inviting sympathising looks from people.

Yet, in a world that’s becoming more connected than ever before, the need to detach and seek solitude is only natural. Solitude allows us to disengage and introspect. It creates the ideal frame of mind to think deep and think creative. It’s little wonder then that many figures who changed history and helped shape the world we live in were introverts. These include eminent authors (J.K Rowling, Harper Lee, Haruki Murakami, J. D Salinger, George Orwell), world-renowned actors and actresses (Audrey Hepburn, Emma Watson, Harrison Ford, Tom Hanks, Anthony Hopkins), prominent filmmakers (Alfred Hitchcock, Stanley Kubrick, Steven Spielberg, Ang Lee), world leaders (Mahatma Gandhi, Abraham Lincoln, Barack Obama), entrepreneurs and tech giants (Bill Gates, Steve Wozniak, Warren Buffet), revolutionary scientists (Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, Albert Einstein) and legendary musicians (ex-Beatle George Harrison, Queen singer Freddie Mercury, Jimi Hendrix, Michael Jackson, Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain).

The fact that people can be successful even while being introverted is something that many people are yet to grasp. It took me years to realise it myself. Aside from being taught to grow out of my own quietness, I had also met and heard stories of people who claimed to be “just like me” until they managed to change themselves into extroverts. At the time, these people were a source of inspiration. Most of these people I’d met had apparently had some defining phase in their lives that made them change. So I figured it was just a matter of time before it happened to me as well. I waited for years for this moment of change so that I’d have my own story to tell of how I successfully ‘came out of my shell’, but realisation struck me in a very different way.

At college, I was surrounded by people who were far more outgoing than I ever was. Consequently, I had developed this constant pressure within me to change. I also felt immensely inadequate compared to my more extroverted peers. And then, in the middle of all that feeling of inadequacy and pressure to change, I finally realised that everything was wrong.

I saw that I had been forcing myself for years to become something I wasn’t meant to be just to be accepted by others and achieve this false idea of success that had been drilled into me. Once this happened, I knew that I was never going to change, and more importantly, that I didn’t have to. I had sought validation from others for so long, but it was really as simple as accepting myself for who I was and embracing my quietness. Once I did this, I finally felt at peace with myself, and I haven’t looked back since.

And then quite ironically, I began talking to more people. Once the pressure was off, talking to people became a lot easier. But more importantly, I learned to see my introversion as an asset rather than a limitation. Today, I approach people a lot better than I used to and hold out conversations with new people much better than I could before. Those who have known me for years will still tell you I’m quiet and maybe even a bit shy. Among the people I’ve met more recently, I’m not so sure.

Just the other day, a few of my friends were talking about someone we know and making jokes about this person’s quietness, not all of which were funny. So I asked one of them what she had against quiet people. She looked at me and hesitated for a moment before replying “I don’t know…they’re boring.” I wasn’t pleased with this. When I held this against her, she didn’t seem to understand why I was taking this personally, seeing as apparently I “talk” and didn’t belong to “that category”.

So in the process of accepting myself, did I unintentionally become an extrovert? I don’t think so. I’m just an introvert who’s realised that it’s ok to be so, and I take it very personally when I hear people speak badly of introverts. If you asked me how I like to spend my Friday nights, I’d say I like to spend it in the company of my books and my music. Otherwise, I like to have a quiet drink in a quiet place in the company of a few good people. Definitely not getting drunk and dancing to crappy music at a party. I’m still a little reserved when I meet a person for the first time and more so among larger groups of strangers. I sometimes even hesitate before picking up my phone and making a call to someone.

But while I do enjoy time with my friends, I might lose my head if I didn’t spend time alone. Whether I read, write, play music, go on long walks or just stare into space and think, these solitary activities are important to me, and while they might seem different and even ‘boring’ to the average extrovert, I no longer care to conform to what the rest of society considers ‘cool’. I like myself this way, and I have very different standards for what constitutes ‘cool’. But I wouldn’t expect an extrovert to change to meet my standards any more than they should expect me to change to meet theirs. So when someone comes up to me and says something like “You really need to talk more” with that look of ignorant derisiveness, it takes me all of my self-restraint to keep myself from retorting “You really need to learn to shut the fuck up.”

So to my extroverted readers who’ve been more accepting of their quieter peers, thank you. The world needs more of you. To the ones who haven’t been able to understand why we’re “so quiet”, hopefully this helped. To parents and teachers, stop trying to change your introverted children. Appreciate them for who they are, and they’ll appreciate you in turn for it. Teach them to accept themselves for who they are. They’ll grow into far better individuals this way than they would under the influence of conformity. Lastly, to my introverted readers who are still struggling to come out of the proverbial shell, stop trying to change yourselves! Embrace your introversion, and the rest will follow.