So, I’ve had this title in mind for this piece, but have to admit to being quite stunned to discover this description of “self-fulfilling prophecy” from this paper by Lee Jussim as an observed phenomenon:
Self-fulfilling prophecy, also known as interpersonal expectancy effect, refers to the phenomenon whereby a person's or a group's expectation for the behavior of another person or group serves actually to bring about the prophesied or expected behavior.
Interpersonal expectancy effect. Boom! I’d found it. It seems a simple enough concept but I think it can be quite difficult to identify when it’s happening and to resist its pull—which is what makes it so powerful if we take the time to understand and recognize the phenomenon, then develop our capacity to use it for best possible outcomes. For more about how I’ve consciously applied my understanding of interpersonal expectancy effect (before I knew to call it that) with my trans-identified daughter, check out this recent reflection along the way, A Wildflower through Concrete.
I want to plant a seed for a future article by encouraging you to replace “expectations” with “the stories we hold” and maybe “anticipate” or “predict” when in verb form, rather than “expect.” I do this because I conceive of expectations somewhat differently and don’t want to encourage them. I know that’s probably controversial, but it’s also a a nuanced topic that I’ll save for another post. Back to this idea about the stories we hold and the impact of those stories…
I’ve been intending a piece on how “what we focus on expands” or how what we give our attention to feeds the thing. And the term, self-fulfilling prophecy kept filling my brain. Marie and I discuss this in the most recent catw podcast episode: how our children will ensure our stories of them come true.
Here’s what Google provided when I clicked on someone else’s question, “what’s the short definition of self-fulfilling prophecy?” From britannica.com:
(the) process through which an originally false expectation leads to its own confirmation. In a self-fulfilling prophecy an individual's expectations about another person or entity eventually result in the other person or entity acting in ways that confirm the expectations
An originally false expectation. Isn’t this interesting? What makes the expectation false? How do we know if it’s false? Could it be because there are so many possible endings to the story? Especially when the story is about our children who are relatively new characters in humanity’s story?
I think this also ties into confirmation bias, or our tendency to favor information that confirms our beliefs. We like to think we see others and situations clearly, but once we form a judgment, we’re now paying attention to the evidence that our assessment, or the story we’re telling ourselves about what’s happening is true. The old cliche that asks “would you rather be right or happy?” exists for a reason.
I think this may also be a way to avoid disappointment–if we expect the worst, we can say to ourselves, “See? I was right. This person will always let me down.” (This is also an example of us shifting responsibility for our experience onto someone else. See this past article: Responsibility) I’m discovering we also truly hate to be caught off guard; it makes us feel foolish, like we missed something we should have caught, or like maybe we don’t really have control–and well, no one likes that. Best to protect ourselves by predicting the worst, right?
Unfortunately for those who determine to go through life in this way–predicting the worst and attached to being right–they likely have little awareness that they themselves are creating the very negative experience they’re imagining. The stories we believe will have a huge impact on the way we experience someone else’s behavior and ultimately, the general experience we’re having of Life (because we too live into our stories of ourselves.) It will also impact the other person’s experience, and this is the part I find fascinating.
Back when I was still a classroom teacher, there was a podcast that had a profound impact on my understanding of this phenomenon of interpersonal expectancy effect–though, again, I didn’t yet have this term. I find myself feeling deep gratitude that I encountered this story when I did and that it stuck with me, influencing how I came to understand the roles of educators and parents. I think it may have been the first ever episode of Invisibilia (is this still an NPR program?) The title was: How to Become Batman.
They begin the episode by asking regular people, relative to a rat that they had brought into the office, “Do you think that the thoughts that you have in your head could influence the way this rat moves through space?” I’m sure you can imagine the responses; you’re probably having a similar thought right now, “of course not!” This eventually leads to another question, “Do you think it’s possible for someone without eyes to see?” You may be wondering what could possibly be the connection between these two questions. To that I say, give it a listen.
I consumed this podcast episode years before the book, The Coddling of the American Mind was published, and I suspect it may have been my first conscious exposure to how the story we hold of another influences the way that other shows up in the world. You might think it was irresponsible of me to experiment with my own children, especially after a silly podcast episode, but it was a powerful and persuasive story they tell and it niggled its way into my emerging understanding of what we learn about ourselves throughout modern childhood, along with the impact of those beliefs on how each of our unique stories unfolds. This podcast may also have been among the initial seeds from which grew my story of just what it means to be human in all of our creative and resilient glory.
And this story of the amazing capacity each of us is born with–but that will only be realized if we manage to hang onto and own our story of human capacity–has served me well. I gave my children considerably more freedom than most parents are comfortable with, always holding that story of their inborn ability to figure things out, and that their very nature will drive them to seek experiences that will just reinforce this–if I’m able to allow it.
Now, as you’d probably expect, there are some provocative ideas discussed in How to Become Batman. I relistened to it this week, now probably coming up on a decade since the last time. I wasn’t surprised that it felt as relevant to our situation as I thought it might, based on my memory of it. This time I experienced more complicated feelings about the concluding ideas of love’s role in today’s rampant fragility. This circumstance of parenting one of the trans-identified was incredibly humbling because it shook my very conscious story and tested my beliefs; it created self-doubt and demanded that I get clarity on just what integrity means to me.
I realize now that it had this impact because of how it threatened my story of myself as a parent.
During my daughter’s early adolescence, I noticed a new and fearful story about her emerging for me. Even as I tried to make her see her own capacity for resilience, my faith in that capacity was threatened. I scrambled to find ways to address it, to communicate to her what she was capable of, and then my world came crashing down with the understanding of how deeply entrenched she was in a trans-identity. For awhile, all I could see was a devastating future and my mama bear instincts to save her kicked in, consuming my good sense and threatening my own identity as a dedicated mother who could ensure the best possible outcomes for her children.
I feared that maybe I got it all wrong. And you may agree that I did, believing that I should have provided a tighter container, carefully curating my children’s lives and instilling the “right” way to do things rather than allowing so much experimentation. It’s quite likely my children would have benefited from more direction and structure.
Maybe my daughter wouldn’t have stumbled onto other people’s competing stories of what it means to be a girl–and what it means to be a boy. Wasn’t it my job as her mother to protect her? To ensure her focus and success at school and to keep her occupied with activities that kept her out of her head and on the prescribed path we’ve been offered to be judged worthy and productive members of society?
Yeah, maybe. I certainly spiraled into despair that I didn’t do this parenting thing right. Clearly, the evidence indicated I’d failed. I mean my daughter came to think she’s somehow a boy and that her mental health and stability depends on binding her breasts. I thought I’d raised her in a way that developed her critical thinking skills; shouldn’t she see right through this nonsense?
Luckily for me, I held the seed of another story of what adolescence (and life) is all about and was able to finally choose this other way of seeing things. Maybe it’s irresponsible of me to let go of the guilt and shame I felt when the full understanding of the capture of my children by this new world view sunk into my being? When I realized the very decisions I’d made about which schools to attend, how much freedom to give my children, how to (not) impose consequences on them may have been exactly what led my family to where we found ourselves. (Now I know how many different paths to here there are; and like you, if I’d been capable of stopping this, I would have.)
Trust me, I had all these thoughts. These were the thoughts that drove me to believe it was my job to fix this mess, because it would follow–in this story I was telling myself–that I was indeed to blame. As painful as those thoughts were, and as destabilizing as the emotions of rage, despair, and helplessness were, the idea that I had no control was even more intolerable.
I describe these details of the story I was telling myself because these emotions that consumed me had a major impact on my behavior which in turn had an impact on hers. As I set about to fix this situation which included fixing my daughter’s experience, my new fearful story of her got communicated.
I think what she absorbed was that she needed fixing and her mother no longer trusted her process. I started paying attention to all the “harmful” ways she was engaging in the world and it became difficult to hold onto that story of human resilience and drive to thrive. This fed my fear which fed my story which gave energy to the very identity I found so threatening. Suddenly my focus was on the “fact” that my daughter’s experience was wrong and it was on me to fix it.
So let’s take a look at how this interpersonal expectancy effect also known as the Pygmalion effect works. Here’s another description from simplypsychology.org that applies the idea to the parent/child dynamic:
If parents choose to treat their children as intelligent, talented, independent human beings, according to the Pygmalion effect, they are more likely to internalize these attitudes and act accordingly.
However, on the other hand, if a parent views their child as incapable, unintelligent, or weak, that individual will most likely lower themselves to those expectations.
They go on to identify the Pygmalion effect as a “causal loop”.
It’s so hard for me to rein in the adjacent concepts that I think contribute to the dynamics playing out in our homes. I do believe it’s crucial that we recognize the cultural effects of the “information age” and what this has done to parenting styles.
For those who were completely caught off guard, believing they’d set themselves up for a relatively easy adolescence (guilty) only to discover their formerly “healthy, happy” child’s adoption of a trans-identity, I think our stories get hijacked by the very intense, and yes, very legitimate fear. And I believe this fear escalates when we take to the internet to seek support.
We buy into the story that if we, as the parents, don’t ensure our child pivots and drops this identity that he or she will inevitably medicalize, which in turn will destroy our child’s future.
But what if this story just isn’t true–unless we believe it? I know I’m treading in dangerous water here, but please stick with me.
I know there’s no guarantee of outcome, and there are other stories out there our children are absorbing, but I always want to focus on where we actually have some agency as parents.
First off, I know how easy it is to find evidence to support this story. I remain grateful that when I took to the internet for support, I was able to find others who weren’t captured by this new worldview–it was crucial for my sanity. And it was important to know the potential outcomes.
Yet, I think the more we feed ourselves stories of the worst case scenarios (without making peace with those scenarios) the more we feed our fear. And the more we feed our fear, the more we try to control our children’s experiences. And the more we try to control their experiences, the more we communicate to our children their lack of capacity to be whole, healthy humans. This lack of capacity becomes what we’ll see when we assess how they’re moving through the world, and they’ll continue to prove us right.
(How terrifying the world must be if even your parents don’t believe in you!)
I also think it’s really difficult in today’s world to not land in this place. There are some interesting stories out there about what it means to be a good parent, to be a healthy adolescent, even what it means to be a human being. I think the beauty here is that with some consciousness, we can choose which story to believe. And the one we believe will determine whether our story is depressing or inspiring, full of regret or understanding, tragic or hopeful.
Unfortunately, it’s difficult to escape the stories others have of us. So it’s important here too, to pay attention to how we’re falling prey to the interpersonal expectancy effect. Are we providing evidence to support the predictions of those who would judge us? Including our children with whom we’re in this intense causal loop?
You may have even felt its pull. I don’t know how many times I got sucked into my daughter’s bait (that I know was unconscious on her part.) There was so much input encouraging her to believe her parents were against her, and I acted into that story on multiple occasions.
I’m so grateful that I recognized this happening. It gave me confidence that I could use the same invisible pull on her if I could only hold my story of her full capacity while also resisting her culturally-influenced story of me. What I had on my side was 34 more years of this human experience, and more capacity to witness the story and choose the one I wanted to live out.
Hmm. Another topic idea: free will. Self-fulfilling prophecies will certainly infringe on our free will, and they’re impossible to resist if we haven’t developed that ability to bring consciousness to the story, to even recognize that we’re in one. Of course, there’s more to explore and explain here including the power of our relationship to emotion. I’ve had requests to dig in here, and I will in the future; I think this is probably plenty for now.
Mostly what I want to encourage is taking some time to examine your stories (of yourself, of your children, of humanity,) developing an understanding of the impact of our stories, and accepting that you have some agency over which story you inhabit. Also, as I allude to here in The Stories We Tell Ourselves, and as I had a wise mama remind me last night in our SMP call, we also have agency in determining where the chapters end. If things are intense right now, keep the chapter going until it can end on a hopeful note.
I know this one was a lot, and I can be all over the place. I’d encourage listening to How to Become Batman (you may get something totally different than I did—I welcome your responses to it in the comments) and reading the full articles that I quoted to get a clearer understanding of how self-fulfilling prophecies will impact your dynamics with your children and the way you experience life. For supporting SMP content, check out:
Learning to “come home to myself” -with Marie
We’ll be diving into Module Two of the Foundations Course next month in the Community titled, What kind of storyteller are you?
For support to use the interpersonal expectancy effect toward the healthiest possible outcomes, visit the work with me page.
I love this post! I tell my kids all the time to watch what they think and say because they are making it more likely to come true, ie a self-fulfilling prophecy. And what's most fascinating is it's based in biology. The Reticular Activating System is a part of the brain that is always on the lookout for what we are thinking about and therefore paying attention to. Energy flows where attention goes. Ever notice how you start to see a particular kind of car everywhere when you think of buying that particular car? The cars were there all along, but now that you are contemplating buying that car, your RAS is on alert to point them out to you. Same thing in every other aspect of life. Problem is, saying you *don't* want some particular outcome or other is shining a spotlight on that very thing and the RAS doesn't understand "no". it just goes full steam ahead to give you what you are thinking about, even when you are thinking about what you don't want. Humans are funny.
I am not sure how I apply this. My young adult wants me to pay for many surgeries. The ideal would be that if they have to do this they earn and pay and are in control of their own future, but they do not have the capacity to work due to their autism. So if I Iet go of trying to influence and believe in them and their capability to make the decisions that are best for them I pay for surgeries? I really hate the fact that my decisions will control their outcomes because I do not want the responsibility as I simply do not know what is best for them.