Touch, Friendship, and Not-Entirely-Sacred Pain

 

            

I tend to be awkward with touch, because I don’t want to risk making anyone else uncomfortable, and I was even more so as a little girl. Especially at elementary school age, certain rituals of touch are necessary to preserve friendships: if such things as hugs, cuddles, hair braiding, the physical exchange of friendship bracelets, or painting others’ nails don’t come naturally to you, you will be at risk of failing a good many social interactions.  

Some friends are touchier than others, which likely starts in the home somewhat. Certain cultures are known for being more touchy and physically affectionate, and It’s usually parents that are the first people to be with us in painful situations to teach us how to react and how afraid to be. It would make sense that my mother and I were able to have a conversation agreeing completely about how much it peeves us when someone is talking to us and gives us a little light smack or nudge on our arm to punctuate a laugh. Still, the person that she gave as an example of this behavior was her mother, so it’s certainly no strict rule that every member of a family will want to be touched the same way.

Recently, I was roped into the recently brought-back-from-the-dead Ice Bucket Challenge. My brother tagged me in a video of himself pouring a bucket of ice water over himself, and I had 24 hours to do the same, (with the help of my roommate,) and find three other victims to challenge.The thing about the ice bucket challenge that stands out to me is that in order to participate, someone has to think of you to reach out to as a possible candidate to have cold water poured over yourself. This simultaneously includes and inconveniences or embarasses you. It’s a bit of discomfort for a good cause, in theory (the original 2014 challenge was in support of those with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis.) The thrill also comes from the raw, nearly uncontrollable experience of and reaction to shock which comes from the feeling of coming in contact with a lot of cold water all at once. 

Me, mid-pour

 

It possibly also has to do with how much fun it is to watch other people experience that feeling, and the connection that comes from the raw vulnerability on display. Maybe the feeling is a little sadistic if it’s you who nominated the person currently taking the challenge, maybe Schadenfreude if you had nothing to do with it. After all, if the idea is that you do it yourself and then compel another person to do it, you will have both endured the same shock, and from that knowledge comes empathy. It’s a trend rooted in empathy, after all, since the idea is that it promotes awareness for mental health— the alternative to the ice water is a donation to charity. So, in that way, the Ice Bucket Challenge is in a similar category to sacred pain. It’s done for a reason, and stands for something other than what it literally is. Otherwise, it would just be silly. It would also be just silly if it were not an almost entirely social event. It’s viral in its spread, and currently being done by young people all over the country (possibly world, I don’t know…) I would love to see the statistics on how many people in the last minute have just gotten ice water poured over them. 

Just to make my video, in the first sort of “layer” of direct connection to myself, six people were involved. The one who challenged me, the one who poured the water, the one I asked if he’d like to do it who wasn’t inclined to, and and three I asked to do it who were on board to be challenged. I guess I cheated a bit by asking first, but it’s perfectly in line with my feelings around hugs– I just don’t want to cause any real discomfort. Though, maybe overcoming the possibility of discomfort, or becoming so comfortable with another person that there is rarely any possibility of discomfort, is the marker of closeness and connection— taking the connection that already exists by being people together and furthering it. In Glucklich’s words, relating in this case to pain but the idea of shared humanity being applicable to friendly touch as well, “It is the shared humanity that makes the thrill of the sadist possible, the vicarious identification with the victim” (399).