In his song, “I Wanna Talk About Me,” Toby Keith addresses a lover or a friend, reflecting on the nature of their conversations: “We talk about your dreams and we talk about your schemes / Your high school team and your moisturizer cream / We talk about your nanna up in Muncie, Indiana / We talk about your grandma down in Alabama.”
Although the speaker admits that he often enjoys talking about his friend, by the end of the song he is fed up with all their egocentric talking: “You you you you you you you you you you you you you / I wanna talk about me.” I am sure we could all identify someone in our lives who resembles the ‘you’ in this song, and most of us have probably found ourselves wanting to interrupt and yell out, “I wanna talk about me!”
However, I think Keith’s song has more to offer than just a collective chuckle at those whom we perceive as talking about themselves too much. It seems clear that the ‘you’ isn’t the only one who really just wants to talk about his/herself. The song essentially progresses from ‘you you you you’ to ‘me me me me,’ which, I think, is a pretty good summing up of most of our conversations with others. Even when we’re ‘listening’ (i.e. allowing the other person to speak) we can’t help but plan out what we are going to say next and how we are going to relate what they have said to ourselves. Why do we so often give concurrent monologues to each other and call them ‘conversations?’
Another thing we can learn from “I Wanna Talk About Me” is that we long to be seen and heard by others. We long for people, especially those we care about, to acknowledge our existence and our value, which we sometimes fear won’t happen unless we throw pieces of ourselves out in conversation.
Simply put, one important reason we tend to talk about ourselves is because we want people to know us—or a version of us—and approve. It’s not as if the speaker at the end of Toby Keith’s song feels like he should talk about himself for the sake of a well-balanced conversation; he longs for what he thinks, likes, knows, wants, and sees to be heard and deemed worthy.
I think we can see our daily conversations as a sort of oft-neglected opportunity to love and serve. And we all know how this is done. When we truly listen to others instead of emphasizing our own importance, we show the people around us that they exist and matter. But we are so bad at this.
One common assumption about listening is that it is synonymous with question-asking. We love questions because they continue conversations by avoiding awkward silences and quickly move us through our checklist of concepts necessary for understanding a person. These aren’t always bad things, but they too often create a guise of “listening” that functions primarily as self-service. That’s not listening. Additionally, question-asking inherently guides the conversation where the question-asker wants it to go, potentially ignoring the object of the listening altogether.
In light of this, I’d like to advocate for the practice of silence. And I mean actual silence: not talking when you could be talking. Some of us do this often (and there might be a seperate piece on speaking and speaking loudly) but I think the majority of us struggle to be silent.
Silence is so awkward and so unneeded, we tell ourselves. What is the purpose of silence? Well, we have already established that we love to talk about ourselves and that we long for the affirmation that comes with being heard—these are good things. So, when we practice silence, we have the opportunity to give these things to others. Think of it as giving up your right to the conversation; it doesn’t belong to you anymore.
This conversation now belongs to the person you are looking at. Your voice doesn’t need to be heard because you have given up that right for the purpose of service and love. Try it sometime: put your phone away, sit or stand near someone, be with them, don’t say anything, avoid temptations to ask questions, hear them, see them, be with them. Be silent.