On “The Wave and Say Hello Show”
EVERYONE watches The Wave and Say Hello Show. I mean, well, not literally everyone, but by-and-large most people do; at least most people who are in high school or are college-aged or whatnot. Kids can’t watch it. They hear about it; whisper about it; giggle and look forward to it, though. Here’s how The Wave and Say Hello Show works:
People get together and turn on the TV, then navigate to the show. “THE WAVE AND SAY HELLO SHOW” flashes in quick letters, then it opens with two people looking at each other. They each wave, then they each say hello. There’s a pause, then it switches to two new people. They each wave, then they each say hello. And so on and so on. This repeats, and it ends, and then people talk excitedly about what they saw.
You’ve seen the show before. It was.. I mean, it was just people saying hello to each other? It wasn’t offensive, and it was nice to see this thing that you’ve heard about for so long, but you don’t really get it, even if you’re trying to. Mainly you’re baffled about how this is such a big thing. It seems kinda stupid.
The first time you talk about it with a friend, they look at you distastefully. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re in college. If you’re not even excited about it now when it’s new, what’ll it be like in ten years, twenty years?” They seem personally hurt by your opinion. You enjoyed talking with them, though; it’s the show you didn’t love.
Hanging out with friends, the topic comes up. Note: The Wave and Say Hello Show always comes up. Always. Old songs hint strongly at it, even though the people then were repressed and didn’t talk about it openly. Modern songs talk about it very bluntly. People wear t-shirts that hint about waving at each other. People reference and quote and talk about old episodes. Most adverts show people about to wave, about to say hello. You wrote a book once, and critics attacked it for not talking about the characters watching The Wave and Say Hello Show. “That’s not what the book was about,” you said quietly.
So, hanging out with friends, the topic always comes up. A friend notices you’ve been quiet and asks what you thought about the most recent episode. “I… didn’t watch this one,” you admit. “I’m not that into The Wave and Say Hello Show.”
The table hushes. Someone narrows their eyes. Are you one of those non-liberated people who thinks it’s inappropriate to talk about the show, that it’s something to be ashamed of and done privately? (They don’t quite say this, but you know it’s what they’re wondering.)
“Oh, no no, I’ve seen the show before,” you reassure them. “And you can discuss it around me; I’m not offended at all.” And that’s true for you, though you’ve met people who don’t want anything to do with the show. But for you, it can be kinda fun sometimes, with the right people, just not all the time. It’s like all of society is structured around it, and you just think there are more important things to structure society around. You don’t say that part out loud.
The conversation shifts. One friend is really into the particular way people bend their arms while waving. The elbow in particular fascinates them; the bending and the movement of it. Another friend is more into the vocal aspects. Different pitches of voices, different accents, whether people linger very long on the double L part of the word, whether it sounds like the word is followed by an ellipsis or an exclamation point. There’s so much to explore with voices, they exclaim! You suppose you can’t argue with that; you also look down to check your phone.
Another friend smiles and leans in. “Have you tried… hmm. Well, you know it comes in different languages, right? Different languages, or maybe only one person speaks, or maybe they say a different word, like ‘Greetings’ or ‘Salutations’ or even weirder words?”
Another friend’s eyes go wide.
“You didn’t know?” the friend who smiled asks. “Oh, they don’t broadcast those, but you can stream them if you know where to look. It’s definitely catching on; people are relaxing and realizing it’s not all about the boring traditional version.” They look at you. “This is probably too much for you, isn’t it?”
You shrug, not admitting that you’ve already explored some variations in your search to understand the show and find more appeal in it.
Later, when your friends have all proudly expanded their horizons, some of them even talk about the awkward dynamics of a version of the show where three or more people try to say hello at the same time. This still doesn’t offend you, but the added social awkwardness doesn’t sound like an improvement.
Some people still ask what your favorite part is. Are you more into the voices? More into the arm movements? The hands?
“I like seeing the different people,” you say. “What they’re wearing, how their hair is styled. When it’s winter, I like seeing how people tie their scarves, whether their coats are open or closed, that sort of thing. You know; fashion, and the vast diversity of faces. There’s a lot conveyed in a face. As far as the waving and saying hello parts, I mean… it’s fine, but it’s all just the same noises and flailing body parts over and over again, eventually, isn’t it?”
The table looks at you with pity. “What are you, twelve? All shows have faces and clothes. That’s not the point of The Wave and Say Hello Show. You’re an adult, and it’s fine to admit what matters: It’s all about the waving. And the saying hello. Come on. People have been watching this show for as long as society exists. Get with it.” Eventually they stop asking your opinion. You don’t get invited to watch it with them. That’s fine. If you’re perceptive enough, you’ve found someone who more aligns with you to watch the show with.
You miss out on some friendships because some people seem to only care about watching and talking about the show, to the exclusion of all else that helps you feel connected with people. But most of your friends balance that passion with other hobbies, and that’s fine for you, and you all generally get along. You’re fine with being “that one person” in the group in many situations. Anyway, you’ve never not been, so it’s a familiar role.
At one point you meet someone who actually studied the show — the history of it, the psychology behind it — in college. “That’s amazing!” you say. “You know, I really think a lot about the psychology behind it too. Isn’t it weird how many people are totally obsessed with it, and so easily manipulated by it? Or how the show comes on at a different time some days and people will rearrange their entire schedule to not miss it! It’s more important than food to them! And some people will go to extreme lengths to get invited to viewings of the show.”
“Oh, well,” the person who studied it says. “I mean, my focus was really on what was wrong with the people who used to think it had to be kept quiet, who thought we shouldn’t talk openly about it. I also focused on what new directions it’s important for the show to go in. We’re actually working on getting more and more versions of it broadcast.” They narrow their eyes, thinking you might be one of those old-fashioned people. “It’s really a critical show,” they stress. “It’s such a basic part of every human’s experience. Am I not human? Do I have to be shy about being human? It’s important that people are given the words and confidence to talk about this.”
You, the apparent alien to human experience, don’t seem allowed to use your words to participate in this discussion. They read that as shame and inexperience in you, not exclusion and boredom, since you’re really not in the fandom.
“This is a basic aspect of the human experience, after all, it’s not like it’s just some fandom.” They say. “This is The Wave and Say Hello Show. Like, okay fine, some people are deaf or blind, and sure, their experience of the show is different because of that, but you’re not deaf or blind. So what the hell’s wrong with you? You probably just need to watch more of it, or watch it with the right people. Why are you shaming me? Weirdo.”
Sometimes you start to think you probably are ashamed and repressed and old-fashioned, but you keep reminding yourself that that’s not true, you just aren’t that into the show. Right? Like, you do feel ashamed, but that’s from external factors, you’re pretty sure. You never said anyone else should stop liking it, and you don’t actually believe you’ve done anything wrong just by listening to yourself.
So it’s awkward. You continue to watch The Wave and Say Hello Show occasionally, especially when it’s meaningful to whoever you’re with, and even sometimes for your own sake — just to see how it’s going, and because it’s fun in its own way — you just end up not being part of many spaces your friends are part of. Such is life.
You start doing some research. It turns out that, until very recently, it was actually considered a medical disorder to not enjoy watching the show. People were given medication for it, were given therapy for it, were told they were wrong, and in extreme — but all too common — cases, people were locked in rooms and forced to watch the show until they said they liked it. You don’t think that’s happened to you, but you’re bothered that you have to think about it. Like, you’ve watched it in rooms with the door locked, but it was locked from the inside, right? You think so. Your uncertainty is disconcerting.
You’re glad society has changed. Honestly, you’re glad people are so open to talking about the show now, because as much as they don’t understand you, you’re at least able to talk more openly about your experiences with it too, and you’re learning the words to explain your own experience. And you’ve found people who agree with you, and you’ve shared experiences and painful memories. Many people in the more conservative past tolerated entire lifetimes of pretending to like the show, all alone, knowing they’d be cast out or attacked for not watching it, or just because they assumed they were broken and it was their fault. You don’t want to go back to the old-fashioned times either.
So there you are. You’re in your mid thirties now, and you’ve comfortably made peace with this part of you. You still upset some people when you bring it up — “That’s not a real thing” or “Okay, but why do you need to talk about not liking the show?” or “If you don’t like the show, whatever, your feelings about it don’t have to be anyone else’s business” or “If you don’t like the show, how are you going to grow up?” or “God, you’re one of THOSE people who hates the show and is trying to get it cancelled for everyone, aren’t you?” — but oh well. You’re old enough now, and you have an official show-watching companion, so no one says you’ll grow out of it anymore — so you just get quieter about it and continue on through life surrounded by slogans, songs, advertisements, stories, movies, conversations, pictures, paintings, books, comics, jokes, and unending questions about The Wave and Say Hello Show. And you continue watching it, because you still do enjoy it some, despite the societal trauma most people won’t acknowledge, despite other people not understanding the nuances you only barely understand about yourself, and you look ahead to a future society.
Eventually people will accept that true liberation from shame does more than just redistribute the shame. It allows for watching the show without wanting to talk about it, allows for having nothing to say about it, allows for not enjoying many aspects of the show without being considered a morally bad person, or allows for intentionally avoiding the show and having others still consider your life a full and valid part of the human experience.
One year you do have a new and insightful friend who you’re curious about watching the show with. The friend learns that you’re not usually as into the show, though, and they are caring: “I understand. I will not invite you to watch the show,” they say. You wilt a little, because that’s not how this works. “You could maybe still invite me,” you try to say, “once we get to know each other better? I’d like to try.” But you think you’ve said it a little too quietly, and anyway, they quickly move on. You still hang out, but they keep all show-watching separate and you’re never confident enough to bring it up again.
In the meantime, you figure you’ll do your part by patiently explaining your experience again and again to the endless flood of fans of the show around you, when they want to listen, even if you don’t want to or are tired of having the same conversation over and over again. You get it, though: they love it and everyone they know loves it, so why would they bother learning about what it’s like to not love it? You just wish they’d understand that not loving it isn’t the same as disliking or hating it. Anyway, you’ve made peace with things, but perhaps your efforts will help those who come after you.
Eventually you even write a blog post about The Wave and Say Hello Show, casually switching it to be analogy about watching a confusing TV show instead of the blog being about what it actually is about, in case that helps people see your point of view better. This means it’s in permanent words now, so hopefully you can just link the blog to people instead of having to do the emotional labor again and again every time.’
Remember: we don’t live in a world where people who don’t love the show are all the same as each other, or where any of them are wrong for it.
[After every article, I’ll supply a not-necessarily related musical pairing. Your music video for today is “Glósóli” by Sigur Ros. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bz8iEJeh26E]
