CHAPTER 8Communication and the SelfLearning Objectives.docx

CHAPTER 8
Communication and the Self
Learning Objectives
After reading this chapter, you should be able to:
! Identify the four quadrants of the Johari Window and explain
the meaning of each.
! Describe an improved Johari window.
! List common principles of self-disclosure in our society.
! Define what Goffman meant by the terms dramatic realization,
performance disruptions,
dramaturgical loyalty, dramaturgical discipline, and
dramaturgical circumspection.
! Define and give examples of: identity negotiation, working
consensus, surface acting, deep
acting, and family paradigms.
! Discuss whether working consensus is a public or a private
reality.
! Describe what is meant by “feeling norms” and discuss how
they are formed.
! Describe how institutions accomplish emotion management.
! Discuss how communication constructs gender.
! Reflect upon your beliefs concerning the role of intrapersonal
communication in determining
your choices and successes.
Introduction

Our final chapter focuses on “the self”—how we view
ourselves, and how that influences our com-
munication with others. As we said in the start, this presentation
schema runs counter to the
approach of other introductory texts; most early on, write about
“the self.” Why do we diverge from
the traditional approach and save “the self,” for last? Because,
despite society’s focus on the impor-
tance of “our own” personal communication (e.g., personal e-
mail account, blog, cell phone num-
ber, and facebook.com site) communication, as we envision it,
is not “all about me.” Our
perceptions and communication products are immeasurably
shaped and influenced by multiple
external factors. These include: the larger physical environment,
our biology, culture, family, and
peers. Indeed, these influences begin long before conception.
With that in mind, let us now con-
sider “the self,” and how an individual’s communication
interacts with these influences.
109
Communication: A Basic Life Process
Communication is central to each of our lives because it
functions as a basic life process:
“Just as animal and human systems take in oxygen and
foodstuffs and transform
them into materials necessary to their functioning, they also
take in and use infor-
mation. In the most basic sense, communication is the essential
life process through
which animal and human systems create, acquire, transform and

use information to
carry out the activities of their lives” (Ruben, p. 65).
These concepts are contained in the Systems Theory of
communication. This theory is useful
in clarifying the nature of communication and its fundamental
relationship to behavior. A system
is defined as “any entity or whole that is composed of
interdependent parts.” By definition, a sys-
tem possesses characteristics and capabilities that are distinct
from those of its separate parts. An
example of a system is a pizza, which, while composed of flour,
yeast, water, tomato sauce, and
cheese, is far different in appearance, consistency, and taste
than any of its component ingredients.
Systems can also be living, taking the form of plants, animals,
and humans.
As we progress up the scale of life from plants to animals to
humans, it becomes clear that the
nature of the relationships between the “system” and the
environment becomes more and more com-
plex. The very survival of animals depends upon their ability to
acquire and use information to accom-
plish nearly all of life’s activities, including courtship and
mating, food location, and self-defense.
Communication is particularly critical to the survival of
humans, as we are among those ani-
mals whose survival directly depends upon our relationships
with nurturing adults. Consider, for
example, the newly born infant whose main existence is
comprised of sleeping, eating, waste elim-
ination, and crying. Babies are unable to engage in locomotion,
food gathering, or self-defense.
Without a nurturing adult, the baby would not survive. Yet,

babies are generally competent in
communicating their needs via crying, which serves to alert the
caretaker to feed, cuddle, burp,
clean, or rock the tot to sleep. Just about the time a caretaker
become fatigued and discouraged
with the nurturing process, (around six weeks of age), the baby
“rewards” the adult with “a smile.”
And, sometime between nine and twelve months of age,
typically developing babies will produce
a “first word,” often “mama” or “dada.” This represents another
tremendously rewarding event for
the caretaker.
A second collection of theories that explains why
communication is central to our lives is
Need Theories. These theories are based upon the premise that
as a human being grows and
matures, so does the range of needs that must be met for the
individual to develop into a physi-
cally and emotionally healthy person. Perhaps the best-known
theory of human needs was devel-
oped by Abraham Maslow from his observations of personality
development (Maslow, 1970).
Maslow theorized that humans have five different types of
needs, and that these exist in a hier-
archical arrangement. According to Maslow, the needs are
activated in a specific order, so that a
higher order need cannot be realized until the next-lower need
has been fulfilled. Maslow’s hier-
archy follows, presented from the highest order need, to the
lowest order need:
Self-Actualization Need—The need to fulfill one’s highest
potential in life.
Esteem Need—The need to be valued and appreciated by others.

This includes
pride, self-esteem, and prestige.
Social Need—The need to have love, companionship, and a
feeling of belonging-
ness to one or more groups.
110 Chapter 8 Communication and the Self
Safety Need—The need to be free from harm and fear. In a
society, this would trans-
late into having a job and financial security, and living and
working in a safe neigh-
borhood.
Physiological Need—This need relates to the satisfaction of
one’s biological require-
ments for air, food, water, sleep, sex, and protective clothing
and shelter (Hamilton
and Parker, 1970).
It is important to remember that every “theory” must be tested,
and Maslow’s is no exception.
Maslow’s theory has failed to gain total acceptance because of
evidence that the needs he identi-
fied do not have to be activated in a specific order. In addition,
some theorists do not accept that
there are as many, or few as, five needs.
An alternative theory has been proposed by Clayton Alderfer
(1969). His ERG theory, speci-
fies only three needs:
1. Existence Needs (correspond to Maslow’s Physiological
Needs)
2. Relatedness Needs (correspond to Maslow’s Social Needs)

3. Growth Needs (correspond to Maslow’s Self-Actualization
and Esteem needs)
It might be said that Alderfer’s ERG theory and Maslow’s Need
theory are similar, despite dif-
fering classifications of needs. However, there is one major
difference between the two theories.
While activation of needs follows a strict hierarchical sequence
in Maslow’s schema, ERG theory
specifies that needs are not necessarily activated in a specific
order (Baron, 1986).
It is evident that communication is primary to the satisfaction
each of the identified human
needs, whether they are as “concrete” as the need to obtain food
via a trip to the grocery store, or
as “abstract” as the achievement of self-actualization via
enrollment in an institution of higher
education.
The Johari Window
One of the most interesting models of interpersonal
communication, the Johari Window, was
developed by two psychologists, Joseph Luft and Harry Ingham
(Luft, 1969). The Johari Window
is traditionally included in introductory communication and
psychology courses to illustrate con-
cepts of self-awareness and self-disclosure. It is included in this
particular chapter to illustrate the
multiple realities that are constructed by communication with
others and ourselves.
Figure 1 An example of a Johari window for a shy, withdrawn
individual.
Chapter 8 Communication and the Self 111

KNOWN
TO OTHERS
NOT KNOWN
TO OTHERS
KNOWN NOT KNOW
TO SELF TO SELF
Open
1
Blind
2
Hidden
3
Unknown
4
The Johari Window consists of four quadrants, as seen in Figure
1. The open quadrant repre-
sents information about a person that is available both to
themselves and to others. For example,
both you and I know that you, a reader of this textbook, are
likely to be a student, or are somehow
interested in the conduct of communication studies.
The blind quadrant includes information that someone knows
about another person, but they
themselves do not know. Information of this sort might be that a
person is unaware they have a

terrible singing voice, or that they tell bad jokes.
The hidden quadrant consists of knowledge that we have about
ourselves, but do not disclose
to most others, such as our medical conditions, sexual history,
and salary.
The unknown quadrant contains information about a person that
not known by others nor by
the person. This would include undiagnosed medical or
psychological conditions, unknown skills
or abilities, and one’s ultimate requirements to achieve self-
actualization.
Figure 2 An improved Johari window.
The Johari Window is thus composed of four sometimes
conflicting, sometimes congruent per-
sonal realities. The Johari Window is not, however, a static
entity. Communication with ourselves
and with others can change the relative relationships of the four
windows, as shown in Figure 2,
an improved Johari Window (Tubbs and Moss, 1994). In this
altered version of the window, the
individual has achieved greater self-knowledge. More about this
person is known to others than in
the first Johari Window. However, it could be argued that
increasing the open quadrant is not
always desirable, especially if there are things about ourselves
that would be damaging for others
to know. Moreover, self-awareness of some types of knowledge
might be upsetting and counter-
productive.
Through the communication of self-disclosure, we create new
realities for ourselves and for

others. In our society, there are implicit rules for self-
disclosure, such as:
Rule: Self-disclosure should occur in a gradual manner, with
more intimacy occur-
ring as the relationship progresses.
Rule: Self-disclosure, unless it is with a trusted therapist,
should occur in a recipro-
cal fashion between two people.
Rule: Self-disclosure about how one feels about the other
should not be delivered
in a cruel or a damaging fashion.
KNOWN
TO OTHERS
NOT KNOWN
TO OTHERS
KNOWN NOT KNOW
TO SELF TO SELF
Open
1
Blind
2
Hidden
3
Unknown
4

Rule: Self-disclosure should not be engaged in if it places one
in a vulnerable or
unsafe position.
Rule: Disclosure about another’s unknown quadrant should
occur in the spirit of
ethical communication.
Thus, the construct of the Johari window shows how we may
project multiple identities or real-
ities, and that these might differ depending upon the intended
audience.
Impression Management and Identity Negotiation
Erving Goffman, in his 1959 classic book, The Presentation of
Self in Everyday Life, likens our every-
day communication to dramaturgy, or “performances” in which
we practice impression manage-
ment and control the images that others receive about us.
Relating this to the Johari Window
model, we manipulate the nature and size of our open quadrant.
In fact, the size and information
contained in the open quadrant will vary according to our
audience, and what we feel is important
for them to know about us. When, for example, we wish for
others to become aware of previously
unknown facts about us, Goffman believes that we engage in
dramatic realization. This is accom-
plished by highlighting selected information, (e.g., “I really like
to ski”), thus changing the way
others view us. Charles Horton Cooley, (1994) makes the point
that while children and adults
both engage in impression formation, the adult attempts to do so
less directly:

“A child obviously and simply, at first, does things for effect.
Later there is an
endeavor to suppress the appearance of doing so: affection,
indifference, contempt,
etc., are simulated to hide the real wish to affect the self-image.
It is perceived that
an obvious seeking after good opinion is weak and
disagreeable.”
Whether we are children or adults, our personal realities evolve
as a result of our communica-
tion with others. In fact, our behavior and status in a
communicative encounter is most often
arrived at as a result of subtle negotiation. For example, when
first meeting someone, mutually
arrived at decisions are made as to how the interaction will
progress. Will the interaction be social,
or business-like? Will one communicative partner attempt to
diminish the status of another? Who
is allowed to interrupt the other? Identity negotiation is the
process by which two people negotiate
and agree upon the identities that each will assume in an
interaction. Though this may be done
either implicitly or explicitly, skilled communicators attempt to
do so in an understanding, non-
confrontational way.
When the two actors in a communicative scene finally arrive at
this understanding, it can be
said that they have reached a working consensus. Kollock and
O’Brien (1994) point out that
though this public agreement may not reflect the private reality
as to how communicators really
feel about each other, it is the public reality that guides us in
our interactions. Thus, though we
may personally dislike a particular coworker, we allow our

working consensus to guide our inter-
actions.
Feeling Management
Previously, we examined how members of a society must learn a
hidden curriculum, a concept
introduced by Gerbner (1974) to designate the very broad body
of information that humans must
learn about behaving in their culture. Gerbner defines it as “a
lesson plan that no one teaches,
but everyone learns” (p. 476). The hidden curriculum includes
both implicit and explicit com-
munication rules. These suggest how we should behave in a
variety of communication contexts,
(e.g., how we should relate to others in our family; how we
should behave during a classroom lec-
ture). The curriculum is considered to be “hidden” because this
immense and ever-changing body
of knowledge is not contained within any one available format.
Instead, the content is transmit-
ted to the children and adults of our culture via verbal, non-
verbal and paralinguistic communi-
cation, and emerges over their lifetimes.
Could it be that the hidden curriculum also includes lessons as
to how we should feel about our-
selves, others, events, and institutions? Research by Simon and
colleagues (1994) suggests that
societal communication also guides the development of feeling
norms. These authors engaged in
biweekly observations and conducted in-depth interviews of a

total of ten peer groups in sixth, sev-
enth, and eighth grade—primarily white females in a middle
school cafeteria setting. The
researchers discovered that heterosexual adolescent girls hold
norms that dictate whether (or not)
to love, whom to love, and the extent to which one should love.
The norms that emerged are as
follows:
Norm 1: Romantic relationships should be important, but not
everything in life.
Norm 2: One should have romantic feelings only for someone of
the opposite sex.
Norm 3: One should not have romantic feelings for a boy who is
already attached.
Norm 4: One should have romantic feelings for only one boy at
a time.
Norm 5: One should always be in love.
Simon and colleagues also described a variety of discourse
strategies used by adolescent girls to
communicate the norms to their friends, and then, to reinforce
the norms. Common discourse
strategies included humor (i.e., joking and teasing), gossip and
confrontation.
The process of emotional or affective socialization described by
Simon and colleagues (1992)
begins much before adolescence, even in infancy, as babies are
encouraged to kiss the baby doll
and to “make nice” to the family pet, whereas their older
siblings are told that they must “love”

the new intruder into their family unit.
Acting Techniques
A substantial part of our daily communication incorporates
acting. Hochschild (1994) describes
this as follows:
“We all do a certain amount of acting. We may act in two ways.
In the first way, we
try to change how we outwardly appear. As it is for the people
observed by Erving
Goffman, the action is in the body language, the put-on sneer,
the posed shrug, the
controlled sigh. This is surface acting. The other way is deep
acting. Here, display is
a natural result of working on feeling; the actor does not try to
seem happy or sad
but rather expresses spontaneously, as the Russian director
Constantin Stanislavski
urged, a real feeling that has been self-induced.”
“In our daily lives, offstage as it were, we also develop feeling
for the parts we play;
and along with the workday props of the kitchen table, or office
restroom mirror,
we also use deep acting, emotion memory, and the sense of ‘as
if this were true’ in
the course of trying to feel what we sense we ought to feel or
want.”
Hochschild notes that acting also occurs in institutions:
“something more operates when institutions are involved, for

within institutions
various elements of acting are taken away from the individual
and replaced by insti-
tutional mechanisms. The locus of acting, of emotion
management, moves up to the
level of the institution.”
He further explains:
“Officials in institutions believe they have done things right
when they have estab-
lished illusions that foster the desired feelings in workers, when
they have placed
parameters around a worker’s emotion memories.”
Institutions use various means to accomplish what Hochschild
suggests. They require adherence
to a policies and procedures manual, and the company’s mission
statement. Quality assurance pro-
grams, and corporate-wide training promotes the treatment of
customers and fellow employees alike
as “valued customers.” As examples, in the early 1990s, the
Pontiac Division of General Motors,
Inc. trained employees at every level of the organization to
work together to satisfy the customer
with enthusiasm (note the prescribed emotional state). Gap
Inc.’s website (2007) states that “the
work is fun,” “we work hard,” and “we thrive on a spirit of
exploration, creativity, excellence, and
teamwork in everything we do.” Starbucks (2007) even extends
the desired feeling management to
its customers, striving to “develop enthusiastically satisfied
customers all of the time.”
Institutions that engage in military training, medical education,
legal education and clinical

psychological training may also be quite explicit in “directing”
their employees’ emotional man-
agement. Such training often exposes employees to the finer
points of deep and surface acting as
it applies to their future professional conduct.
Performance Disruptions
Try as we may to produce a communication performance that
will project the desired impression
to others, it is inevitable that disruptions will occur. Goffman
(1995) describes various types of dis-
ruptions. These include “unmeant gestures, inopportune
intrusions, and faux pas,” that might
result in anxiety or embarrassment.
Performance disruptions often occur in the presence of others
and disrupt the situation, or
“scene” within which one acts. Imagine a wedding where a
jealous ex-lover walks into the chapel,
witnesses the object of his affections in the process of marrying
someone else, and brings the cer-
emony to a halt. This disruption would undoubtedly threaten the
harmony of the situation and
even go so far as to disrupt the “polite consensus” of a group.
The wedding crasher could necessi-
tate the creation a new “scene,” in which the original team (i.e.,
the guests at the party) splits into
two or more teams (i.e., the brides, the grooms, and the
intruder’s friends), each with a different
interpretation of the disruption. We commonly hear reference to
this in statements like, “what a
scene!” or, “you really created quite a scene today!”
Performers and audiences alike protect the definition of the
situation in the face of a potential
or actual performance disruption. Goffman describes three key

defensive attributes and practices:
Dramaturgical Loyalty
Dramaturgical loyalty operates when members of a team (e.g., a
family) protect the secrets of the
team between communication “performances.” Goffman cites
the examples of parents not dis-
cussing gossip in front of their children, lest the children betray
the confidence to their friends.
In eighteenth century England, the “dumb-waiter,” was
introduced. This was a large, multi-
tiered table upon which food was placed so that guests could
serve themselves without the assis-
tance of servants. The dumb-waiter functioned as a
dramaturgical device in that its presence helped
to keep team secrets from employees.
Dramaturgical loyalty can be compromised if performers form
excessively close ties with the
audience, as in the case of a department store clerk who tells
key customers the dates of upcoming
sales that have not yet been publicized. Some retail
establishments avoid these problems by rou-
tinely altering the clerks’ work schedule and locations so they
do not become too well-acquainted
with “the consumer audience.” Another technique is to make a
concerted effort to develop high-
group team solidarity so that “performers” will not seek an
overly-familiar relationship with the
audience. This is frequently legislated within organizations,
such that supervisors are not allowed

to become romantically involved with the individuals they
supervise.
Dramaturgical Discipline
The exercise of dramaturgical discipline requires that team
members focus on their role in the
team’s performance, but that they do not become so engrossed
with their own performance that
they fail to recognize when they must counteract the effects of
potential disruptions. Parents with
young children in the car on a long trip, for example, must be
able to continue giving directions
and driving the car safely, while ensuring that the children
maintain decorum in the back seat.
The “disciplined performer” also knows their part and performs
without committing faux pas
or mistakes. They will be able to carry on despite mistakes
made by other members of the team,
and to immediately compensate for the mistakes to make them
seem as if they were just be “part
of the act.” The disciplined performer will accomplish all of
this without the actor calling undue
attention to the mistake or their assistance.
Dramaturgical Circumspection
Actors must engage in dramaturgical circumspection. This
means that they need to consciously
and analytically consider how best to “stage the show.” This
might involve strategic planning of
their appearance as well as the timing, structure and content of
a communication (e.g., “I’ll ask
Dad for the car keys after dinner when he’s relaxed. I’ll start
off by telling him about my good
grades this semester.”).

Another result of dramaturgical circumspection may result in
strategic selection of the audi-
ence, as in the case of jury selection.
Both audiences and performers employ protective practices so
that the performance is not dis-
rupted. The exercise of tact is an important protective
mechanism, (e.g., clearing your throat to
alert others to your presence). Sometimes staying away from a
scene, (e.g., not attending a party
where your presence would be awkward for others), or advising
others to do so can also protect the
performance.
When performance disruptions do occur, it is interesting to
consider the nature of the disrup-
tion, and the responses of both the actor and the audience.
Often, remedial strategies are employed
to lessen the effect of an embarrassing incident. These might
include: ignoring the disruption, tak-
ing action to “fix” the problem, use of humor, offering an
apology, verbally justifying the disrup-
tion, expressing empathy to the embarrassed party or even
fleeing the scene.
The Reality of Our Identity
Who am I? How do I view myself? Who are you? Oliver Sacks
(1994) approaches these questions
through the eyes of a patient with severe Korsakov’s amnesia.
The patient is not only unable to
remember others, but cannot recall his own identity and history.
Sacks points out that it is partic-

ularly disabling since each of us possesses a life history, a
series of narratives, and that:
“If we wish to know about a man, we must ask, ‘what is his life
story—his real,
inmost story?’—for each of us is a single narrative, which is
constructed, continu-
ally, unconsciously, by, through and in us—through our
perceptions, our feelings,
our thoughts, our actions; and, not in the least, our discourse,
our spoken narra-
tions. Biologically, physiologically we are not so different from
each other; histori-
cally, as narratives—we are each of us unique.”
Imagine the confusion created by amnesia, or the disruption in
personal identity caused by the
need for an informant in the United States Witness Protection
Program to shed a lifelong iden-
tity. Such scenarios would be devastating to one’s sense of
personal identity because the series of
narratives that we tell ourselves, and others that are the keys to
the reality of our identity, are
either irretrievable or must be refabricated.
Gender Identity
Before the birth of a baby, it is not uncommon for the parents to
learn the sex of the infant.
Indeed, some engage in practices that ensure the offspring’s sex
will match their preference. In
many cases, the selected name, color of the baby clothes, and
the hue of the nursery’s walls reflect
this knowledge.
We now ask you to read Heritage’s (1984) chapter (largely
based upon the work of Garfinkel),

which presents a case study that illuminates how gender is
constructed via our communication
with self and others. The case describes ‘Agnes’—a pseudonym
for a male born with typically
appearing male genitals. Until age 17, Agnes presented himself
as a boy. However, by age 19,
Agnes appeared “convincingly female,” (p. 180) to all but her
parents, relatives, medical staff, and
ultimately, her boyfriend. Agnes sought and underwent surgery
to change her sex from male to
female. The reading describes how Agnes attempted to construct
a new gender identity, and how
much of this was achieved via her verbal and non-verbal
communication.
Maintaining Institutional Realities
John Heritage
For Kant the moral order ‘within’ was an awesome mystery; for
sociologists the moral
order ‘without’ is a technical mystery. A society’s members
encounter and know the moral
order as perceivedly normal courses of action—familiar scenes
of everyday affairs, the
world of daily life known in common with others and with
others taken for granted.
Garfinkel, Studies in Ethnomethodology
In the preceding chapters, we began to examine the
consequences of viewing social action as fun-
damentally organized with respect to its reflexivity and

accountability. A major finding of that
examination was that the intersubjective intelligibility of
actions ultimately rests on a symmetry
between the production of actions on the one hand and their
recognition on the other. This sym-
metry is one of method or procedure and Garfinkel forcefully
recommends it when he proposes that
the activities whereby members produce and manage settings of
ordinary everyday
affairs are identical with members’ procedures for making those
settings ‘account-
able.’ (Garfinkel, 1967a: 1)
As we have seen, this symmetry of method is both assumed and
achieved by the actors in settings
of ordinary social activity. Its assumption permits actors to
design their actions in relation to their
circumstances so as to permit others, by methodically taking
account of the circumstances, to rec-
ognize the action for what it is. The symmetry is also achieved
and hence it is contingent. For the
production and recognition of actions is dependent upon the
parties supplying, and trusting one
another to supply, an array of unstated assumptions so as to
establish the recognizable sense of an
action. A final conclusion to recall is that the production of an
action will always reflexively rede-
termine (i.e. maintain, elaborate or alter) the circumstances in
which it occurs.
We are now in a position to add a further ‘layer’ to the analysis
of action—the layer of social
institutions. For although we have deliberately ignored the fact
until now, it will be obvious that,
in maintaining, elaborating or transforming their …

9
Communication
and Self-Concept
When I was 8 years old, I thought I would grow up to be a
novelist. By age 12, my parents had taught me to cook
and bake, and it become clear to me that I
would be a pastry chef. When I was 20 and in love
with my college sweetheart, I realized I would be a
stay-at-home wife and mother. When I was 22 years
old and had left my college sweetheart, I was sure
that I would be single and a teacher. Then I began
graduate school and met Robbie, and I started to
defi ne myself as a scholar and teacher and a part-
ner to Robbie. Today, I am not single, not a novelist,
not a stay-at-home wife and mother, and not a pastry
chef, although I do bake bread every week. My sense
of who I am has changed as a result of experiences
and people that have affected how I see myself.
How did you defi ne yourself when you were 8,
12, and 20 years old? It’s likely that your defi nition
of yourself today is different from your defi nition of
yourself at earlier times in your life. Our sense of our-
selves changes as we experience new relationships, situations,
and people. How you see
yourself today is shaped by others’ interactions with you
throughout your life. Similarly,
the self you become in the future will refl ect people and
experiences that have been part
of your life as well as those to come.

In this chapter, we will explore how the self is formed and how
it changes in the
process of communicating with others and with ourselves. First,
we will defi ne the
self and explore the central role of communication in creating
the self. In the second
section of the chapter, we’ll discuss guidelines for enhancing
your self-identity.
You cannot belong to anyone else, until you belong to
yourself. Pearl Bailey
1. What role does communication
play in developing personal
identity?
2. What is the generalized other,
and how does it shape personal
identity?
3. What are the values and risks of
self-disclosing communication?
4. How can you create a supportive
context for your personal growth?
FOCUS QUES
TIONS
181
Communication and Personal
Identity

The self is an ever-changing system of perspectives that is
formed and sustained in
communication with others and ourselves. This defi nition
emphasizes that the self is
a process. Each of us evolves and changes throughout our lives.
The defi nition also
calls attention to the idea that the self consists of perspectives:
views about ourselves,
others, and social life that arise out of our experiences and
interactions with others.
Finally, the defi nition highlights communication as a critically
important infl uence on
who we are and how we see ourselves.
Th e Self Arises in Communication with Others
The distinguished scholar, George Herbert Mead, spent most of
his career studying
personal identity. His conclusion was that the self is not innate
but is acquired in the
process of communicating with others. We aren’t born with
clear understandings of
who we are and what our value is. Instead, we develop these
understandings in the
process of communicating with others who tell us who we are,
what we should and
should not do, how valuable we are, and what is expected of us.
As we internalize oth-
ers’ perspectives, we come to perceive ourselves through their
eyes.
One particularly powerful way in which communication shapes
the self is
through self-fulfi lling prophecies—expectations or judgments
of ourselves that
we bring about through our own actions. If you have done
poorly in classes where

teachers didn’t seem to respect you and have done well with
teachers who thought
you were smart, you know what a self-fulfi lling prophecy is.
Because we internal-
ize others’ perspectives, we may label ourselves as they do and
then act to fulfi ll
the labels we have internalized. We may try to live up or down
to the ways we and
others defi ne us.
When I was 7 years old, I took a swimming class. No matter
how hard I tried to fol-
low the teacher’s directions, I sank in the pool. I couldn’t swim
and couldn’t even fl oat.
After 3 weeks, the teacher told me that I would never learn to
swim and I should stay
away from water. For the next 43 years, I accepted the teacher’s
label of nonswimmer.
When I was 50, Robbie challenged my statement that I couldn’t
swim. He said I could
learn to swim if I wanted to, and he volunteered to coach me.
After just a few days of
one-on-one coaching, I was swimming and fl oating. Now, I feel
safe going in pools or
the ocean because I am not trapped by an outdated, inaccurate
label.
Like me, many of us believe inaccurate things about ourselves.
In some cases, the
labels were once true but aren’t any longer, yet we continue to
apply them to ourselves
(remember indexing, which we discussed in Chapter 4). In other
cases, the labels were
never valid, but we believed them anyway. Sometimes, children
are mislabeled as slow
when the real problem is that they have physiological diffi

culties such as impaired vision
or they are struggling with a second language. Even when the
true source of diffi culty
is discovered, the children already may have adopted a
destructive self- fulfi lling proph-
ecy. If we accept others’ judgments, we may fulfi ll their
prophecies. The FYI feature
on page 182 illustrates the power of positive (and negative)
prophecies. To explain the
impact of others on ourselves, Mead identifi ed two kinds of
others whose communication
infl uences how we see ourselves and what we believe is
possible and desirable for us.
182 PART III CONTEXTS OF COMMUNICATION
EUGENIO
My father was not at home much when I was growing up. He
worked
in Merida, where the tourists go and spend money. My
grandfather
lived with us, and he raised me. He taught me to read and to
count, and
he showed me how to care for our livestock and repair the roof
on our
house after the rains each year. He is the one who talked to me
about
life and what matters. He is the one who taught me how to be a
man.
A Positive Prophecy
For years, Georgia Tech ran a program called Challenge, a

course designed to help disadvantaged
students succeed academically. Yet when administrators
reviewed the records, they found that
students enrolled in Challenge did no better than disadvantaged
students who did not attend.
Norman Johnson, a special assistant to the president of Georgia
Tech, explained the reason for
the dismal results of Challenge. He said, “We were starting off
with the idea the kids were dumb. We
didn’t say that, of course, but the program was set up on a defi
cit model.” Then Johnson suggested
a new strategy: “Suppose we started with the idea that these
youngsters were unusually bright,
that we had very high expectations of them?” (Raspberry, 1994,
p. 9A).
Challenge teachers were then trained to expect success from
their students and to communicate
their expectations through how they treated students. The
results were impressive: In 1992, 10% of
the fi rst-year Challenge students had perfect 4.0 grade point
averages for the academic year. That
10% was more than all the minority students who had achieved
4.0 averages in the entire decade
of 1980–1990. By comparison, only 5% of the students who
didn’t participate in Challenge had
perfect averages. When teachers expected Challenge students to
do well and communicated those
expectations, the students in fact did do well—a case of a
positive self-fulfi lling prophecy.
ENGAGEMENT
fyi
Particular Others The fi rst perspectives that affect us are those

of particular
others. As the term implies, these are specifi c people who are
especially signifi cant
to us and who shape how we see ourselves. Mothers, fathers,
siblings, peers, and,
often, day-care providers are others who are signifi cant to us in
our early years. For
some of us, particular others also include aunts, uncles,
grandparents, and friends.
In general, Hispanics, Latinas and Latinos,
Asians and Asian Americans, and African
Americans often have closer and larger
extended families than European Americans.
As Eugenio points out in his commentary,
people other than parents can affect how
children see themselves, others, and the
social world.
The process of seeing ourselves through the
eyes of others is called refl ected appraisal,
or the “looking-glass self ” (Cooley, 1912). As
infants interact with others, they learn how others see them—
they see themselves in
the looking glass, or mirror, of others’ eyes. This is the
beginning of a self-concept.
Note that the self starts outside of us with others’ views of who
we are. In other
words, we fi rst see ourselves from the perspectives of others. If
parents communicate
to children that they are special and cherished, the children will
probably see them-
selves as worthy of love. On the other hand, children whose
parents communicate
that they are not wanted or loved may come to think of

themselves as unlovable.
Refl ected appraisals are not confi ned to childhood but
continue throughout our lives.
Sometimes, a teacher is the fi rst to see potential in a student
that the student has not
recognized in herself or himself. When the teacher
communicates that the student is
CHAPTER 9 COMMUNICATION AND SELF-CONCEPT
183
talented in a particular area, the student
may come to see himself or herself that way.
Later, in professional life we encounter co-
workers and bosses who refl ect their apprais-
als of us (we’re on the fast track, average, or
not suited to our positions). The friends and
romantic partners we choose throughout life
become primary looking glasses for us.
The Generalized Other The second per-
spective that infl uences how we see ourselves
is that of the generalized other. The gener-
alized other is the collection of rules, roles,
and attitudes endorsed by the overall society
and social communities to which we belong
(Mead, 1934). In other words, the general-
ized other is made up of the views of society
and social communities to which we belong.
Broadly shared social perspectives are communicated by other
people who have
internalized those views and also by social institutions such as

schools and media.
For example, when we read popular magazines and go to
movies, we are inundated
with messages about how we are supposed to look and act. We
learn how our culture
defi nes success, and we are likely to internalize this view.
Communication from media
infuses our lives, repeatedly telling us how we are supposed to
be, think, act, and feel.
Access to the Web and the Internet expands the perspectives we
encounter, which
may become part of how we view the world and our place in it.
Institutions that organize our society communicate values that
further convey the
perspective of the generalized other. For example, our judicial
system asserts that, as
a society, we value laws and punish those who break them. The
number of prisons and
ceaseless media attention to crime further tell us that Western
society values lawful
behavior and punishes unlawful behavior. The Western
institution of marriage com-
municates society’s view that when people marry they become a
single unit, which is
why the law assumes that married couples have joint ownership
of property. In other
societies, parents arrange marriages, and newlyweds become
part of the husband’s
family. The number of schools, as well as the extent of graduate
and professional edu-
cation, inform us that Western society values learning.
Institutions also refl ect and express prevailing social
prejudices. For instance, we
may be a lawful society, but many wealthy defendants can

afford better legal counsel
than poor ones can. Similarly, although we claim to offer equal
educational opportuni-
ties to all, many students whose families have money and infl
uence can get into better
schools than students whose families have limited fi nancial
resources (Cose, 2004).
These and other values are woven into the fabric of our culture,
and we learn them
with little effort or awareness. Only by making a conscious and
sustained effort can we
become more aware of what society communicates about
different groups. We have
an ethical responsibility to refl ect carefully on social values so
that we can make con-
scious choices about which ones we will accept for ourselves.
From the moment we enter the world, we interact with others.
As we do, we learn
how they see us, and we take their perspectives inside
ourselves. Once we have inter-
nalized the views of particular others and the generalized other,
we engage in internal
dialogues with those social perspectives. Through the process of
internal dialogues, or
Who are the people who are your looking glass? For whom are
you a looking
glass?
©
Le
ig
h M

. W
ilc
o
conversations with ourselves, we reinforce the social values we
have learned and the
views of us and the world that others have communicated.
Communication with Family Members
For most of us, family members are the fi rst and most
important infl uence on how we
see ourselves. Because family interaction dominates our early
years, it usually sculpts
the foundations of our self-concepts (Bergen & Braithwaite,
2009). Parents and other
family members communicate who we are and what we are
worth through direct
defi nitions, life scripts, and attachment styles.
Direct Defi nition As the term implies, direct defi nition is
communication that
explicitly tells us who we are by labeling us and our behaviors.
Parents and other family
members defi ne us by the symbols they use to describe us. For
instance, parents might
say, “You’re my sweet little girl” or “You’re a big, strong boy”
and thus communicate to
the child what sex it is and what the sexual assignment means
(girls are sweet, boys are
big and strong). Children who hear such messages may
internalize their parents’ views

of the sexes and use those as models for themselves.
Family members provide direct communication about many
aspects of who we
are. Positive labels enhance our self-esteem (Brooks &
Goldstein, 2001): “You’re so
smart,” “You’re sweet,” “You’re great at soccer.” Negative
labels can damage chil-
dren’s self-esteem: “You’re a troublemaker,” “You’re stupid,”
and “You’re impossible”
are messages that can demolish a child’s sense of self-worth.
Direct defi nition also
takes place as family members respond to children’s behaviors.
If children clown
around and parents respond by saying, “What a cut-up; you
really are funny,” the
children are likely to perceive themselves as funny. If a child
receives praise for
dusting furniture (“You’re great to
help me clean the house”), help-
ing others is reinforced as part of
the child’s self-concept. From direct
defi nition, children learn how others
see them and what others value and
expect of them, and this shapes how
they regard themselves and what they
expect of themselves.
Life Scripts Family members also shape
our self-concepts by communicating
life scripts, which are rules for living
and identity (Berne, 1964; Harris, 1969,
Steiner, 1994). Like scripts for plays, life
scripts defi ne our roles, how we are to
play them, and the basic elements of

what our families see as the right plot
for our lives. Think back to your child-
hood to recall some of the identity
scripts that your family communicated
to you. Were you told, “Save your money
for a rainy day,” “Always help others,”
Refl ecting on Your Life Scripts
To take control of our lives, we must fi rst understand infl
uences that
shape it currently. Identify the life scripts your parents taught
you.
1. First, recall explicit messages your parents gave you about
“who we
are” and “who you are.” Can you hear their voices telling you
codes
you were expected to follow?
2. Next, write down the scripts. Try to capture the language
your
parents used in teaching the scripts.
3. Now review each script. Which ones make sense to you
today? Are
you still following any that have become irrelevant or nonfunc-
tional for you? Do you disagree with any of them?
4. Commit to changing scripts that aren’t productive for you or
that
confl ict with values you now hold.
In some cases, we can rewrite scripts. To do so, we must
become aware of
the scripts we were taught and take responsibility for scripting

our lives.
Y Lif S i t
SHARPE N YOUR SKILL
185
“Look out for yourself,” or “Don’t live on credit”? These are
examples of identity scripts people learn in families.
Our basic identity scripts are formed early, probably by
age 5. This means that fundamental understandings of who
we are and how we are supposed to live are forged when we
have almost no control. We aren’t allowed to coauthor or
even edit our initial life scripts, because adults have power.
As children, we aren’t even conscious of learning scripts. It
is largely an unconscious process by which we internalize
scripts that others write and assign to us, and we absorb
them with little if any awareness. As adults, however, we
are no longer passive recipients of others’ scripts. We have
the capacity to review the life scripts that were given to us
and to challenge and change those that do not fi t the selves
we now choose to be. The Sharpen Your Skill feature on
page 184 invites you to review your life scripts and chal-
lenge those that no longer work for you.
Attachment Styles Finally, parents communicate who we
are through their attachment styles, patterns of parent-
ing that teach us how to view ourselves and personal rela-
tionships. From his studies of interaction between parents and
children, John Bowlby
(1973, 1988) concluded that we learn attachment styles in our

earliest relationships.
These early relationships are especially important because they
form expectations for
later relationships (Bartholomew & Horowitz, 1991; Miller,
1993; Trees, 2006). Four
distinct attachment styles have been identifi ed (see Figure 9.1).
A secure attachment style develops when a child’s primary
caregiver responds in a
consistently attentive and loving way to a child. In response, the
child develops a posi-
tive sense of self-worth (“I am lovable”) and a positive view of
others (“People are loving
and can be trusted”). People with secure attachment styles tend
to be outgoing, affec-
tionate, and able to handle the challenges and disappointments
of close relationships
without losing self-esteem. A majority of middle-class children
in the United States are
securely attached, but fewer children in lower economic classes
are (Greenberg, 1997).
A fearful attachment style is cultivated when the caregiver
communicates in
negative, rejecting, or even abusive ways to a child. Children
who are treated this way
often infer that they are unworthy of love and that others are not
loving. Thus, they
learn to see themselves as unlovable and others as rejecting. Not
surprisingly, people
with fearful attachment styles are apprehensive about
relationships. Although they
often want close bonds with others, they fear others will not
love them and that they
are not lovable. Thus, as adults they may avoid others or feel
insecure in relationships.

In some societies, members of certain groups learn early that
they are less valuable
than members of other groups. Zondi makes this point in her
commentary.
ZONDI
In South Africa, where I was born, I learned that I was not
important. Most daughters learn this. My name
is Zondomini, which means between happiness and sadness. The
happiness is because a child was born.
The sadness is because I am a girl, not a boy. I am struggling
now to see myself as worthy as a woman.
Figure 9.1 ATTACHMENT STYLES
Positive Negative
P
o
si
ti
ve
N
eg
at
iv
e
SECURE
ANXIOUS/

AMBIVALENT
FEARFULDISMISSIVE
Views of self
V
ie
w
s
of
o
th
er
s
A dismissive attachment style
is also promoted by caregivers who
are uninterested in, rejecting of, or
abusive toward children. People
who develop this style do not
accept the caregiver’s view of them
as unlovable. Instead, they dismiss
others as unworthy. Consequently,
children develop a positive view
of themselves and a low regard
for others and relationships. This
prompts a defensive tendency to

view relationships as unnecessary
and undesirable.
The fi nal pattern is the anxious/
ambivalent attachment style,
which is the most complex of the
four. Each of the other three styles
results from some consistent pattern
of treatment by a caregiver. The
anxious/ambivalent style, however, is fostered by inconsistent
treatment from the care-
giver. Sometimes the adult is loving and attentive, yet at other
times she or he is indifferent
or rejecting. The caregiver’s communication is not only
inconsistent but also unpredictable.
He or she may respond positively to something a child does on
Monday and react negatively
to the same behavior on Tuesday. Naturally, this
unpredictability creates great anxiety in a
child (Miller, 1993). Because children tend to assume that
adults are right, children often
assume that they themselves are the source of any problem. In
her commentary, Noreen
explains how inconsistent behaviors from her father confused
and harmed her as a child.
NOREEN
When I was little, my father was an alcoholic, but I didn’t know
that then. All I knew was that
sometimes he was nice to me, and sometimes he was really
nasty. Once, he told me I was his sunshine,
but later that same day he said he wished I’d never been born.
Even though now I know the alcohol
made him mean, it’s still hard to feel I’m okay.

In adult life, people who have anxious/ambivalent attachment
styles tend to be pre-
occupied with relationships. On one hand, they know that others
can be loving, so
they’re drawn to relationships. On the other hand, they realize
that others can hurt
them and be unloving, so they are uneasy with closeness.
Reproducing what the care-
giver did, people with anxious/ambivalent attachment styles
may act inconsistently.
One day they invite affection, the next day they rebuff it and
deny needing closeness.
The attachment style learned in a child’s fi rst close relationship
tends to persist
(Bartholomew & Horowitz, 1991; Belsky & Pensky, 1988;
Bowlby, 1988; Guerrero,
1996). However, this is not inevitable. We can modify our
attachment styles by chal-
lenging the unconstructive views of us that were communicated
in our early years and
by forming relationships, particularly romantic ones, that foster
secure connections
today (Banse, 2004; Neyer, 2002).
Parents’ communication is a key infl uence on self-concept.
©
St
ev
e C
he
nn

/C
OR
BI
S
187
Communication with Peers
Peers are the second group of people whose communication infl
uences our self-con-
cept. From childhood playmates to work associates, friends, and
romantic partners,
we interact with peers throughout our lives. As we do, we learn
how others see us, and
this affects how we see ourselves.
Refl ected Appraisals Refl ected appraisals of peers join with
those we saw in the eyes of
family members and shape our self-images. Peers’ appraisals of
us have impact through-
out our lives. We’re affected by our co-workers’ judgments of
our professional compe-
tence, our neighbors’ views of our home and family, and the
appraisals of friends.
Direct Defi nitions Peers also offer direct defi nitions of us:
“You’re smart,” “You’re
clumsy,” “You’re kind.” The ways that peers defi ne us often
have pivotal impact on how we
perceive ourselves, our abilities, and our limitations. Peers are
particularly strong in com-

menting directly on conformity to expectations of gender. Some
college-age men think
drinking and sexual activity embody masculinity. Men who are
not interested in drinking
and hooking may be ridiculed and excluded for not being real
men (Cross, 2008; Kimmel,
2008). Women who don’t wear popular brands of clothing or
who weigh more than what
is considered ideal may be ridiculed as unfeminine (Adler,
2007; Barash, 2006).
Social Comparisons A third way in which communication with
peers affects self-
concept is through social comparison, our rating of ourselves
relative to others with
respect to our talents, abilities, qualities, and so forth. Whereas
refl ected appraisals
are based on how we think others view us, in social comparisons
we use others to
evaluate ourselves.
We gauge ourselves in relation to others in
two ways. First, we compare ourselves with
others to decide whether we are like them or
different from them. Are we the same age,
color, or religion? Do we have similar back-
grounds, interests, political beliefs, and social
commitments? Assessing similarity and dif-
ference allows us to decide with whom we
fi t. Research has shown that people generally
are most comfortable with others who are like
them, so we tend to gravitate toward those we
regard as similar (Whitbeck & Hoyt, 1994).
However, this can deprive us of diverse per-
spectives of people whose experiences and
beliefs differ from ours. When we limit our-

selves only to people like us, we impoverish the
social perspectives that form our understand-
ings of the world.
Second, we engage in social comparisons to
assess specifi c aspects of ourselves. Because
there are no absolute standards of beauty,
intelligence, musical talent, athletic ability,
and so forth, we measure ourselves in relation
Virtual Identity Development
Having make-believe friends is common
among children. With technology, today’s
children are creating their own make-believe
friends and even their own identities. One popular
game, The Sims, allows players to create families
and living spaces and then to direct interactions
among family members. Marjorie Taylor (1999), a
psychologist who has studied imaginary playmates,
says that children create Sims characters who are
just like themselves or characters who allow them
to experiment with diff erent identities. Researchers
who study both children and technology think such
games are great resources that help children learn
to think about relationships and ways of interacting
with others (Schiesel, 2006).
TECHNOLOGY
fyi

to others. Am I as good a goalie as Hendrick? Am I as
smart as Maya? Through comparing ourselves to oth-
ers, we decide how we measure up on various criteria.
This is normal and necessary if we are to develop real-
istic self-concepts. However, we should be wary of using
inappropriate standards of comparison. It isn’t realistic to
judge our attractiveness in relation to stars and models,
or our athletic ability in relation to professional players.
Likewise, we won’t have valid assessments of ourselves
if we compare ourselves to people who are clearly less
attractive, athletic and so forth (Buunk, Groothof, &
Siero, 2007; Suls, Martin, & Wheeler, 2002).
Self-Disclosure Our self-concepts are also affected—
challenged, changed, reinforced, enlarged—by our
self-disclosures and others’ responses to them. Self-
disclosure is the revelation of personal information
about ourselves that others are unlikely to learn on their
own. We self-disclose when we express private hopes and
fears, intimate feelings, and personal experiences, per-
ceptions, and goals.
Self-disclosures vary in how personal they are. To a co-
worker who is upset about not receiving a promotion, you
might disclose your experience in not getting a promo-
tion some years ago. To your best friend, you might dis-
close more intimate feelings and experiences. Although
we don’t reveal our private selves to everyone and don’t
do it a great deal of the time even with intimates, self-
disclosure is an important kind
of communication. How others respond to our self-disclosures
can profoundly affect
how we see and accept ourselves, as Tim’s commentary shows.
Self-disclosure is most

likely to take place when the communication climate is affi
rming, accepting, and
supportive.
TIM
Two years ago, I had a crisis with my faith. I was afraid to tell
any of my friends because they are
all Christians. I thought they would think less of me because I
was doubting. Finally, I had to tell
someone, so I told Steven, who had pledged his life to Christ at
the same time I did. He was incredible
about accepting what I said—about accepting me when I was
doubting. He let me talk, and he
helped me work through my doubts without judging me. I think
his acceptance is a big reason I could
accept my own doubts and get beyond them.
A number of years ago, Joseph Luft and Harry Ingham created a
model that
describes different kinds of knowledge and perceptions that are
related to self-concept
and personal growth (Luft, 1969). They called the model the
Johari Window, which is
a combination of their fi rst names, Joe …

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