Girls cannot take a compliment. Like reading maps and weeing standing up, it just doesn’t seem to come naturally. (Okay, before you hate-mail me, I acknowledge that some of us, against the odds, are excellent at these things.)
I first noticed this at highschool. Context: I was a public speaker, hanging out with lots of other public speakers of both genders, and the conversations went a lot like this:
Addressing girl: “Hey, that was an excellent speech, I loved it.”
Flapping hands dismissively, avoiding eye contact: “Oh nooooo…. It was hopeless, I went too fast in that middle section, yours was heaps better!”
Okay.
Addressing boy: “Hey, that was an excellent speech, I loved it.”
Boy: “Thanks. Yours was great too.”
What’s that about? Insert any kind of compliment really and you get the same thing – no, not really… oh no, you look way nicer, oh what, this old thing? And many girls don’t seem to grow out of it. The denials just become more subtle.
So when Jem told Brydie she looked great in her school uniform the other morning and Brydie simply walked out of the room, I saw an Opportunity.
Teach My Girls How To Take A Compliment.
She’s eating breakfast and trying to stop the cat from participating.
“So Bry, what would you say if I told you I really liked your hair?”
Stirs porridge in search of elusive brown sugar. Pushes cat’s head out of bowl.
“Thanks?”
I’m feeling a bit crestfallen. So my child doesn’t actually have a problem with compliments after all?
“Right. So… you don’t feel a bit weird about me telling you that? A bit… embarrassed?”
“No….” She’s distracted. More diverting of cat’s (close) attentions. “Why? You tell me that all the time.”
“Okay, so what about if other people tell you they like your hair? Is it embarrassing then?”
Brydie shrugs. She has other fish to fry. “Kind of. I just say thanks.”
“You know, sometimes… “ I struggle gamely on, removing the cat from the kitchen. “… it’s really nice to say things like “Oh, thanks mum, your hair looks really nice too.”
“But it doesn’t.” Brydie points this out with trademark bluntness. “It’s totally bad mum. You look like you just got out of bed.”’
Fair point. (I have). What ensues is a discussion about how to respond to a compliment without shrugging it off – and importantly, how to naturally include the other person in the conversation so you both come away feeling good.
“Thanks, I really like yours too. Where did you get it?” “Thanks – this is my favourite colour. What’s yours?” “Thanks, that’s a really lovely thing to say! I really like English so I don’t find it so hard to do… what subject do you like? “Thanks, I really like this dress, I got it on holidays. Have you been overseas?”
These, I’ll admit, are complex skills for an eight year old. But it’s never too early to start practising them. Because the fact is, girls are not good at receiving compliments! They like them, sure! Check out any 14 year old’s Instagram or Facebook feed and it’s pretty clear they’re trolling for them. But handling them? Not so great. And anyway, what kind of compliments are we hoping our daughters will crave in the first place? What kind of conversations are we hoping they’ll have? One that revolves around posting a photo for 62 almost – anonymous cyber-clickers to ‘like’? Or one where they can give and take a few more sentences that make some effort to connect beyond the click?
Me, I’m going for the latter. So here’s my tip. Talk to your girls about compliments. Directly. Practise giving them. Watch how they respond when they land. And watch your own responses – a quick brush off? Or an opportunity to go a bit above and beyond and create warmth and relationship – a response that says it’s okay to accept a compliment and stay in the moment, sharing it and even providing an opportunity to give something back? Because the person they’ll learn most from is you! Chances are if you’re comfortable giving and receiving compliments and talking to people genuinely about the things you appreciate about them, they will be too. It’s never too early (or too late) to start.
“So how come you walked out and ignored Jem’s compliment this morning?” I finally get around to asking Brydie, who by this time is itching to get away and watch some TV.
“What compliment?” Bry has the raised eyebrows of the very quizzical meerkat.
“The one she gave you in her bedroom about your school uniform.”
“What?” Brydie just frowns. “I didn’t hear anything!”
It’s probably true- she has hearing loss.
So much for that theory.
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