Normal is the Enemy

Confront it, capture it and interrogate it like our lives depend on it.

Anything that professes to be normal is fooling us.

Although I didn’t like it, probably because I think I’m quite normal, the theory of normality as a fallacy arose very early in my undergraduate studies. What I had previously named “normal” wasn’t actually what I meant. I didn’t mean ordinary. I may have meant reasonable or even common.

What is normal, anyway? Try to define it without looking in the dictionary. It’s hard. When we pull it apart, we realise that what we thought we meant by “normal” was actually “common” or maybe something else entirely.

The idea of normality comes from that probability theory of normal distribution otherwise known as the “bell curve”.

What evidence is there that a real data set was able to be distributed neatly on a bell curve? In reality, the bell curve doesn’t really exist because the average doesn’t exist. Hence, normality is a ruse.

To prove this point, Gilbert Daniels studied over 4000 pilots in the 1950s, and he measured them on ten dimensions of size. Then he asked, ‘How many of these pilots are average on all ten dimensions?” The assumption was that most of them would be average on the dimensions.

How many were there?

Zero.

Not a single pilot in the 4000 was “average” or normal in size. Instead, what Daniels found was that all the pilots had a jagged size profile. i.e. Shorter pilots might also be heavy, and heavier pilots might have more narrow shoulders, etc.

By confronting our internal monologue that says, “I can’t wait for things to return to normal.” We identify that we’re imagining a state that does not and never will exist. This simple act of mindfulness enables us to plan for a future that has a beautiful mix of possible states.

Labelling behaviours as “normal”, excuses us from dealing with reality.

I’ve heard, and, let’s face it, I’ve said that many behaviours or traits are “normal”. When, actually, what I’ve meant by normal is more like, “This behaviour is common and it’s complex…” Which, strangely, doesn’t seem “normal” at all.

Unfortunately, by labelling behaviours as “normal”, we excuse ourselves from a possible need to intervene. In this case, “normal” actually means “acceptable”. And that may not be our intention. Let’s look at an example.

By saying, “Experimenting with drugs is normal for teenagers.” We might inadvertently be communicating, “Experimenting with drugs is acceptable for teenagers.” Is this what we mean?

Alternatively, if we rephrase and state, “Experimenting with drugs is common for teenagers.” We can suddenly see an opportunity to change the status quo rather than excuse potentially unhelpful behaviours.

Classifying anything as normal, is lazy thinking.

By classifying using “normal”, we brush over beauty and underestimate complexity.

Beauty = order and complexity.

If, for example, we classify our friends as normal, it may feel complementary but what we’re actually doing is failing to acknowledge the unique characteristics that build our friends into the beautifully complex humans they are.

So, before we consider something or someone “normal”; let’s confront it, arrest ourselves and remember that normal and average doesn’t exist. Let’s acknowledge the beautiful complexity that embodies so much of our world and so much of us.

Let’s forget about “…getting back to normal,” and how about we get to beauty instead?