Numbers are taught in early years of elementary school to be the most accurate, objective measurement of essentially anything. Rulers measure length, graduated cylinders test volume, scales calculate weight. Numbers are concrete facts. It is easy to believe numbers are the purest way to measure anything– even human beings.
Every community has a set of standards and expectations for people, typically defined by identity. Social norms and cues can regulate these standards. People who follow expectations are often praised and accepted, while people who do not fulfill social standards can be instilled with shame. I have always felt social pressures to change who I am throughout my life, but never saw the benefit of conforming to other people’s expectations. But when I went away to college, I witnessed immediate gratification.
College culture gives easy access to external validation. Class appraises through grades. Organizations, especially Greek life, create exclusivity and therefore the feeling of privilege once accepted. Clubs boost up resumes along with leadership titles. On a non-academic level, having plans to go out at night meant popularity; which everyone would be aware of through social media. Binge drinking, especially on a school night, signified having it all together. How could one have the time to blackout if they were not getting by in school? Participating in hook-up culture meant one was attractive enough to participate in the realm of casual sex. Attendance at the gym exemplified caring about health (even if one took 7 shots of $10 vodka the night prior).
I quickly craved doing it all, not because I wanted to, but because of the reward, I would receive by doing those things. I was always taught that doing well in school, participating in extracurricular activities, being accepted by peers, and being physically fit would make me a well-rounded person. Now, I had an explicit method to prove to everyone, and myself, that I was the genuine, hard-working, dedicated person I always believed I was. The grades I got in class, the number of activities I was involved with, my social life, the number of guys I slept with, my weight— they all became measurements of my worth and happiness.
I was able to hold it all together at first. I made the dean’s list. I joined a sorority. I took part in clubs and organizations where I held titles and positions. I would drink 3-5 times a week while averaging about 150 likes per Instagram post when I would go out. I was single but seeing multiple guys, while playing the persona as the detached cool girl. I trained and ran a half marathon.I did everything I believed would make me a well-rounded, successful, happy person.
It felt fulfilling in the moment. I was proud of everything: my work, my involvement, my social life. But in the dead of sober nights, I felt my accomplishments stripped from me. Nothingness started to culture inside of me. Who was I? What was I worth if I wasn’t being measured by external things? At first, I thought this meant I wasn’t trying hard enough, so I pushed myself to escape the emptiness. Pressuring myself then developed into unhealthy habits: staying in the library until the 2am closing, volunteering to do more than I had time for, running the extra mile even when my body was aching, taking the extra shot, sleeping with guys I was disinterested in, calculating calories so I could maintain a deficit of 1,200 per day (including alcoholic calories). It all caught up to me in waves of anxiety and depression.
We wonder why mental health is an epidemic on college campuses, but don’t see the toxic culture that is in place. College culture teaches students to be exceptional humans through external validation. Classes are about getting good grades, not learning. Greek life is focused on reputation. Binge drinking and fitness are an ongoing conflicting battle. Social media allows for 24/7 validation and is used to portray acceptance and happiness. Party culture and hooking up becomes a numbers game.
An involved college community can be positive and powerful. But somewhere along the way, It starts to become personal. We are taught that our successes on campus make us better people, thus more happy and worthy people. We start evaluating people based on the surface. We start to believe that people are only as good as the recognition they receive.
The problem with external validation is that it never adds up. It is passing. It is never enough. The desire to be validated becomes stronger and stronger until we start to do things because of the immediate gratification we receive in return instead of doing them because we want to. It becomes mindless and robotic.
I don’t think the need for validation is exclusive in college culture. I think it is only a taste of reality; a preview of how the rest of society is structured. Numbers accurately measure concepts and objects. The one thing numbers cannot precisely measure are human beings. The complexity of humans cannot be compared and contrasted. Lived experiences cannot be calculated. Humans grow and evolve in too many ways to be classified in a single, linear path. Why do we insist that the things outside of ourselves make us better people?
External validation convinced me that my most vulnerable self-was dark and ugly. That I was nothing without everything around me. For a while, I feared the person I was when I was stripped of my achievements. But now, in the middle of the night, when there is no one around or nothing is going on, I reflect on the person I am. Seeing myself with nothing- as nothing- has made me realize there is so much more to me than what is sitting on the surface.