In one of the happiest countries in the world, I turned inward, a quiet countenance taking over my typically jovial spirit.
The first few weeks of my spring study abroad experience were spent in my apartment—my bed, couch, and kitchen were my most visited spaces. It seemed that introversion started to creep into my being the moment I touched down in Copenhagen, Denmark. While change is uncomfortable for some, I usually jump at the opportunity to embrace adventure and meet new people. But, after a fall semester of trying to please others at the expense of my mental health, in this new place I subconsciously withdrew from actively engaging with those around me.
I have always been a chronic people pleaser, spending my childhood trying to fit into my new identity as a Nigerian-American after moving back to the United States. Growing up in the suburbs of Virginia Beach, I was an outsider with a thick Nigerian accent and foreign lived experiences. And the years spent as an outsider looking in caused me to need validation from others to feel secure in my being. I wanted to be acknowledged.
As a bullied child, I thought extroversion was the answer. I would do anything to be seen in a positive light. In the heat of middle school bullying, I became an investigator of the actions of others, closely watching those who seemed happy, and slowly transforming myself into them. I watched intently, observing their actions, choices, and motivations. Like a chameleon, I shifted, changing my colors to blend in—to camouflage. And in high school, I became whatever the situation called for. The people who were included in conversations and surrounded by friends seemed happy and extroverted. Thus, I became the social butterfly, ready to speak or lend a listening ear, ever cheerful and ever-present.
In Copenhagen though, my ability to maintain this act crumbled, and I was forced to reconsider my understanding of happiness. Removed from my typical environment and habits in the United States, I reckoned with the one-sided nature of my associations with happiness and acceptance. What was happiness? Who determines if I am happy?
***
The World Population Review has named Denmark the second happiest country in the world, and the country typically stays in the top three happiest nations in each yearly ranking. So when I embarked on my study abroad journey, I was unsure what to expect—sure there were bikes, fairy tales, and the Little Mermaid statue, but I did not know what happiest country would mean. I predicted that happiness meant dynamic and vibrant personalities, the same personalities I associated with happiness growing up, the same personality I constructed for myself.
The Danish people I encountered, however, were reserved in public spaces. I realized this as I familiarized myself with mundane interactions on public transportation during my first few weeks. As I met my Danish apartment mates and Danish friends from church, this reserved nature was consistent. I always thought happy meant extroverted, yet in those first few weeks, I had to contend with the notion of happy yet reserved.
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The terms extrovert and introvert were coined by psychologist Carl Gustav Jung. Jung maintained that these two personalities were defined by the desire to either turn into oneself or to turn outward. An extrovert is thus defined as someone who is sociable, unreserved, and seeks out and enjoys social interactions with others. An introvert is defined as a person who is reserved, tends to be introspective, and enjoys spending time alone. Jung goes on to describe these turning points as an individual channeling energy into and gaining energy from the outside or inside. While the terms “extrovert” and “introvert” were coined in the early 1900s, the term “ambivert” showed up in 1927 and translates to “turned both ways.”
According to Jung’s definition, I embodied characteristics of the typical introvert in Copenhagen. Being away from America and the extroverted identity I formulated for myself allowed me to look inward. As I reflected on my identity, I worked to confront my desire to be accepted by others and its impacts on how I presented myself to those around me. Isolated from the type of happy I had thought was the ideal, I began to see my extroversion through a new lens, one that was rooted in a harmful attachment to people-pleasing as a means of gaining admittance. I had gone from looking at others in grade school to studying myself. Alone in my apartment, overlooking Stadsgraven canal, I began to wonder if I was an extrovert by nature or if my vibrant personality developed as a coping mechanism for loneliness.
In middle school, I had actively turned outward, seeking solace in those around me as I pieced together an amalgamation of my ideal personality. In crossing the Atlantic Ocean, my shapeshifting became lost along the way, and I refused to bring that baggage with me. People-pleasing had been detrimental to my mental health, and I found comfort in Copenhagen without the external pressure to be social—people seemed reserved and content. Happy yet reserved.
***
My observation of the Danish people I met allowed me to settle within myself. As the months went by in Copenhagen, I began to better understand the complexities of the personalities I met. Most of the Danish people I encountered both in passing and in close friendships were indeed happy, but their happiness took on a different form than I was used to. They were happy yet authentic.
Taking Danish language and culture classes allowed me to understand these nuances more. Our Danish professor explained to us that for many Danes, they have the same friends they met during their childhoods and focus more on the quality of relationships as opposed to the quantity. Moreover, they place deep value on tight-knit communities. Danish friends also affirmed this notion. I noticed that, perhaps because of this intentional attitude toward friendship, Danish people did not feel the need to be overly extroverted in public, especially with people they just met. In contrast to how they were in the United States, my interactions in Denmark were simple, but real—autentisk.
When I found a Nigerian Church in Denmark, I was both shocked and excited. I was eager to find a sense of home while abroad and an entryway into understanding more about Danish identity through its intersection with a culture I was already familiar with. I was able to connect with Danish-Nigerian peers, who have now become like sisters, without the typical vibrant small talk I thought was necessary. Our interactions were genuine and honest; we all presented ourselves in a way that I now associate with both looking outward and within.
Looking back, I wonder if the change in my interactions was a result of my changing mindset or the culture in Denmark or a little bit of both. From elementary school to my freshman year of college, I was on a quest to find joy among peers, and I lost a sense of who I was in the process. In fact, I removed individuality from the equation and sought to be palatable to others. My personhood was dependent on how others perceived me and how they felt in my presence. In Copenhagen, I worked to be palatable to myself, I wanted to perceive myself.
When I acknowledged that it was time for me to turn inward and decide exactly who I wanted to be, I embraced introspection. Solo adventures to Thorvaldsen’s Museum, bike rides through Christianshavn, indulging in cinnamon buns at Sankt Peders Bageri, sitting in front of Nyhavn, and embracing hygge in front of the Baltic Sea all allowed me to find comfort in my own presence. It was finally time to familiarize myself with Ayoola, time to observe her choices, actions, and motivations. Copenhagen granted me the time and space to observe what mattered most.
Post-study abroad, I returned to Brown with a renewed sense of confidence and belonging. I was no longer an outsider to myself, and this shift in mindset brought me the ultimate happiness. I get to determine what makes me happy, what I choose to place value in, and how I want to present myself. And while working toward authenticity is a difficult task, I am eager to keep on changing and learning as I turn both inward and outward.
***
I have asked many people to describe my personality type, and when they decide I am an extrovert, I tend to agree with them. But I also acknowledge that the binaries between extroverts and introverts are not as rigid as they seem. Where I fall in this category will be up to me, and in how I seek to express myself within and outside the bounds of definitions.
