The American Gospel of Choice
Is it freedom or just another trap?
In the dimly lit grocery aisle, I count 14 formulas of peanut butter: crunchy, smooth, organic, honey roasted… my vision tunnels down this dimly lit path, and I notice unnervingly how almond butter now mingles with the peanut butter. The light twitches overhead, or maybe it was just the lid of my own eye. I suddenly see an image of the entire stretch of the aisle overtaken with nut butter jars. 50 different brands with even more choices than what is already presented. Suddenly my feet feel thick on the floor.
Two aisles over, a child wails in tantrum, not feeling adequately heard in their own opinion. I think about being a child, learning the value of thinking for yourself, unaware how deeply I wish to escape the infinite choices that are dedicated in doing so. By default, I reach for the brand I grew up with and wonder how those around me make decisions themselves while defending their own identity. I wonder if by choosing by default, I just risked mine.
We are unwillingly born into a nation that believes in the gospel of choice. We knit ourselves tightly together on the snug principal of freedom yet pick ourselves apart in its shadow. As each choice is a vicious symbol of the declaration of selfhood, it is an equally somber symbol of isolation. We spend less time in the present than enjoying the outcome of the choice. Ordering a coffee is a multi-step process full of open-ended questions. Consumer customization is valued over an opportunity for bonding with our own community. The choice to have coffee is made, then one must choose the type of milk and then the amount of milk. Not to mention sugar, syrup, and topping options and measurements. Ordering a coffee, I know I have a slim chance of liking due to my inexperience in being a barista, is in competition with my American right in full swing. Have I avoided a trap or just stepped into another?
In Amish communities, choice is not about self-expression but belonging. Once you decide to join the church, the rest is decided for you, and you are guaranteed community. In Japan, decisions unfold in silence, with the well-being of the group outweighing individual desires. How many hours do Americans spend in the peanut butter aisle when they could be enjoying PBJs with their family? Harmony, not autonomy, is the goal. In Scandinavia, consensus is king. Choices take time, but once they are made, they rarely waver. Americans mistake the concept of choice as purely selfish. Decisions based on the principal of aesthetic and branding. In other cultures, choices are a tool for connection and tradition to create an environment that is beautiful for all.
Perhaps this thought process is instilled in childhood. What do you want to be when you grow up? You can be anything. What do you want your coffee to be? It can be anything. While the open-ended lifestyle is inspiring on the surface, it is incredibly stressing and time consuming to choose who you are every second of the day. How can one grow if they’re so busy trying to choose the right peanut butter that represents them? We grow up learning to be critical thinkers, yet we end up thinking critically on a simple coffee, rather than why we encountered the people we did today.
To choose one path is to abandon another. We bury the roads not taken, though we seldom stop to mourn them as a potential version of us we never knew is put to rest. In some cultures, this mourning is built into the act of choosing. In ours, we rush forward, hoping the next choice will quiet the ache instilled by the last whirlwind choice. The Amish call it ‘belonging’. The Japanese call it’ harmony’. We just call it ‘freedom’.
In the grocery aisle, the peanut butter sits untouched in the flickering lights and quiet buzz. The child still cries. I wonder if the child feels the grief in the loss of freedom when their mother tells them ‘No’ and that is the reason for the tears or if the child is plainly just tired. It is not how we choose, but how we live with the choosing, to carry the weight of freedom and let it teach us what we already know
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