Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect, and whistle a happy tune, so no one will suspect I’m afraid.” So goes the song from the musical “The King and I.” I’ve been thinking about this line; leaving aside the whistling, how and what does our posture communicate? What do people assume about us, based on how we present ourselves? How can we change those assumptions, if we don’t like them?

I admit, at my first glimpse of people, I do make assumptions about them. How they move, how they hold themselves, their expression, their posture-- all contribute to an impression of how confident they are, how agreeable, how energetic, how they move through the world. I’m sure they, too, are making these same assessments of me. So what do I want to communicate by how I move? 

I sometimes see myself in a mirror as I’m passing, and notice a hunched posture, or tension in my shoulders, or a head thrust forward. I look tense, tentative, apologetic. Time to stop and make a conscious adjustment: ears over shoulders, shoulders over hips, hips over knees. Shoulders released, head high, or as they used to say in dance class, “as if suspended from a string in the ceiling.” I’ve noticed that just correcting my stance mysteriously corrects my attitude, too; I really DO feel more confident and masterful if I “hold my head erect.” There’s science behind this, suggesting that our bodies communicate to our brains, and not just the other way around. Our facial expressions and our body posture reflect our emotions, of course, but it’s a two-way street: our expressions and postures also influence our emotions. If you smile, your outlook will be sunnier as a result. If you stand in a power pose, you feel more powerful. It’s “fake it ‘til you make it,” backed by science.

The sad irony of communicating tentativeness or an apologetic attitude is that it can in fact attract blame. If I convey that I am willing to take blame, and someone else is eager to avoid it, I will be a perfect sitting duck to have that blame shifted upon me, even if I have done nothing wrong. I see this play out much more often in women than in men, and it can unfortunately reinforce women’s one-down power relationships in the world.

And what, after all, do we have to apologize for? If one has misbehaved, or been inconsiderate or cruel, then certainly one should apologize. But a reflexive habit of apology, that so many of us women fall into, is unnecessary and unhelpful.

I volunteer for a community chorus. It’s a lot of work and takes a lot of time, but I love the chorus and I’m happy to do it. Once I was distributing music to the group on Thursday rather than my usual Wednesday, and composed an accompanying email saying, “I’m sorry that I’m getting the music to you late.” I suddenly stopped and thought, “Wait, why am I apologizing? I’m doing something good, and no one is disappointed that the music is a day later than usual. They probably didn’t even notice! I don’t need to be sorry.” I changed the email to something more like, “Here’s the music! Enjoy!”  Ever since, I try to keep an eye on my communications and edit out the apologetic tone that often creeps in. 

So, am I recommending a policy of “Never apologize, never explain,” advice reportedly given first by a Victorian admiral (a man, of course). That is far too categorical, but it does carry a grain of truth. We are entitled to occupy our space in the world; why should we automatically assume an apologetic, meek, self-abnegating tone? Perhaps P.G. Wodehouse said it best: “The right sort of people do not want apologies, and the wrong sort of people take a mean advantage of them.” So let’s hold our heads high and stop reflexively apologizing.

By Becky Rizvi