We Need to Appreciate and Understand Brilliant People

THE VIEW FROM GENIUS

“To do the impossible, you need to ignore the popular.” — Timothy Ferriss

If a fence between genius and madness exists, I hop back and forth and am never certain on which side I am poised.

If you know, you know.

My practice is to discover a means to destroy the universe. This morning, for example, I mixed Dunkin’ Doughnuts decaf with a Starbucks Special Christmas edition. Sadly, the sun rose. I wear white before Labor Day as often as possible. And I wear a bra to bed. Still, the sun rises.

In the fairy tales, newborns are gifted beauty, talent, and grace. Those bitches sing perfect aria’s while waltzing with forest creatures with whom they can communicate. Freaking squirrels doing their dishes and fawns sweeping their foyers. All princesses in hiding or sleeping waiting for that heroic prince to make all their dreams come true.

My fairies arrived at my layette and graced me with my three gifts. I’m tone deaf. My cat ignores my attempts to speak mew. The video of my dance recital reminds me of the elephants in Fantasia. No forest creatures scrubbing my toilet. The only critters that ever ventured into my kitchen were roaches in my city apartment. They were not helpful. I think my red hair and booty are genetic. Quentin Tarantino assuredly wrote my fairy tale. I’m not royalty.

My drunken winged spawns graced me with intelligence, intelligence, and intelligence. Perhaps they lost track of their list? Were you supposed to give grace? I thought I was giving the brains?

Bitches.

Like other gifted people, my world is not what you would expect. I wrote about the bias against intelligence and what I’ve labeled intelligentism in a recent article. Within this humble attempt, I hope to raise awareness so gifted people — especially gifted children — are understood and appreciated.

Let’s start with the obvious: If you’re a talented athlete, you can display your trophies. Gifted musicians and dancers garner applause. Pro chefs get Michelin stars. Salon stylists earn laurels on social media. Actors enjoy red carpets, awards, and clothing lines.

If an intelligent person even mentions IQ, the hate flows. Gifted people are expected to hide their giftedness, so others are not offended. Research shows that gifted people are regularly passed over as leaders because of that offense. And worse, even when we earn a position of power, others cannot understand our vision.

Leave Elon alone!

Gifted people seem stubborn and eccentric. Persuading a gifted person is difficult unless you have sound logic and credible research. Often, even your credible research is not enough because the genius spots contradictions and omissions. No genius is swayed with emotional appeals, just as no genius stays engaged in one project. Once the project is completed, the gifted person moves on to improve the next thing. And the next. These proclivities result in the gifted labeled as difficult, stubborn, flighty, or irresponsible.

Could it be, possibly, that the gifted understand and know, appreciate and observe what others cannot?

A student I’ll call M to protect his privacy, did an extensive research project for a senior thesis. He surveyed popular film, literature, and cartoon characters for temperament traits. Every single evil-villain was the Rational temperament. Not only are Rationals rare (a mere 10% of the population) but also are highly logical and strongly intuitive. They are frank and abrupt. Fiercely independent. And brilliant. Knowledge is their goal. Strategy is their talent. And efficiency and effectiveness are always — always — more important than feelings. Hence, others deem them evil, sociopaths, and villains.

A short list of real-life Rational Geniuses: Isaac Asimov, William F. Buckley, Ayn Rand, Walt Disney, Mark Twain, Albert Einstein, Charles Darwin, Friedrich Nietzsche, Marie Curie, Nikola Tesla, David Hume, and Napoleon Bonaparte.

Gifted children enter the world with a need to connect and improve everything around them. They cannot comprehend violence, ignorance, hatred, or cruelty (although they often hurt others’ feelings, they do not mean to do so). Remember the scene in The Fifth Element when Lelu discovers war? That’s a gifted child’s daily experience.

When the gifted child reaches out with interest, curiosity, and acceptance, they are particularly vulnerable to rejection or abuse from the “normal” people who surround them. Friendships with those outside of the gifted person’s intellectual group are difficult. The gifted’s mere presence, offhanded observations, ability to master skills quickly, and problem solving acumen act as insults or boasting to others.

As a young child, for example, I was told I had no sense of humor because I did not appreciate the mocking, jibing, and insulting “humor” of those around me. Humor, for me, should make a statement, a point, observe the human condition. Slapstick escapes me.

But subtle facts do not. Recently, Magnus Carlsen, the chess grandmaster, abruptly withdrew from a match after only one move against Hans Niemann. Why would a respected and talented chess player act in a rude and seemingly irrational manner? Why indeed, I wondered. But I knew. Carlsen saw something he did not like. Niemann has previously admitted to cheating. Carlsen spoke up after the match: He is frustrated with the cheating and believes “that Niemann has cheated more — and more recently — than he has publicly admitted.”

Gifted people observe what others do not. And we see in ways others do not. If you’ve seen the film A Beautiful Mind, or watched the series Sherlock, you may be amazed at how the directors reproduce the way these geniuses see. I loved both interpretations. And I felt understood (and impressed).

Interestingly, gifted children never define themselves as gifted or intelligent. While others overestimate their intelligence and ability, the truly gifted undervalue their skill and talent. Look it up. It’s called the Dunning Kruger effect. Impatience is also a common character trait as the gifted child expects more from herself — and will quit a challenge more often than not. Because she should be able to do it as easily as she does everything else.

Consider a scale where high intelligence is skewed left, average is positioned at the center, and the lesser than average hold the right. Geniuses see themselves as normal — as in the center position. So, they see others as lesser than average. It’s an attempt to feel normal, perhaps. A perspective that being able to do calculus in one’s head is something everyone should be able to do. The result? The genius lives a lonely existence because no one can understand him or her.

No one finds her jokes funny.

Gifted children are bullied and are often spend a life depressed. The child who easily does calculus, plays a musical instrument, builds complex Lego structures, often stimulates a parent’s insecurity or lack of ability and will most certainly be abused and negated. An average parent of a genius child is the definition of rejection — and abuse. Many geniuses are parentified children: always expected to do for themselves because they can. If a gifted person in your life seems bossy or insulting, ask him or her about childhood.

I bet he or she fixed a vacuum at five years old. Or helped with a tax return at ten years old.

A high school friend and I took the SATs together for several sessions. I started taking them for fun — to see if I could beatthe test. In my research prior to that session, I confirmed that one section for every session was a research section: The test writers would test sample questions to identify balanced and unbalanced options. At that time, the SAT had two math sections and three language sections. When I cracked that seal, I found that the first section was mathematics. And every question was… odd. The first question, which should be the easiest, was advanced. The second question, easy. And the third had no correct answers from which to pick. That section was a research section.

I spent my time designing a flower pattern with the fill-in circles. It was so pretty when I was done! Screw those test designers, I thought, laughing to myself. But my friend two rows behind me was crying. Gifted, she became hysterical that she was underperforming. Typical for her, as she would suffer crippling anxiety before every test or research paper. Her parents demanded perfection.

And perfectionism plagues gifted children. Because they can, they try to do more. Do better. Over and over. Burnout is common.

While teaching a public speaking course to middle school students, only my perspective could reach a burned-out gifted child. The other students had gone on a break, but I didn’t see Miss Unnamed emerge from the classroom. I found her curled up on the floor in the corner. She had not yet presented and informed me she wasn’t ready. She needed an extension. Granting it was not an issue, so I was concerned she felt so pressured.

“My classes are hard this year. (She was attending a gifted school focused on mathematics and science.) And I have a lot of projects and homework and stuff. And piano on Monday. Chinese school on Tuesday and Thursday. This speaking class tonight. And dance on Friday.”

“You need to rest on the weekends, honey,” I said, feeling triggered. I wanted to hug her. Tell her to stop pressuring herself.

“I can’t,” she said through silent tears. “I have computer camp on Saturdays and religion group on Sundays.”

This child — this eleven-year-old — was determined to be perfect in every area. It was too much. And because she did well, her parents pushed her to achieve… everything. Like the little girl who brings home straight As and a father who says: It’s what I expected. Then awards the son who brought home Cs and Bs with ice cream cake.

Do you wonder why perfectionism, misanthropy, and depression become a norm? Hey, average parents: Your genius kid’s success doesn’t make you a star. Back off.

Consider the world’s achievements because of geniuses’ efforts. The gifted child who is being bullied could have cured cancer. The brilliant person deemed difficult and avoided. Or passed over for a promotion when she could have found a way to an exoplanet.

You could care. But you’re too busy protecting your average-intelligence ego.

To my genius tribe, out there, misunderstood, unappreciated, mocked, and negated: Maybe it’s time to shrug. Who is John Galt?