“I’m Not Sure You Belong Here”
David Sedaris, the humorist and author, writes in his pandemic produced book Happy-Go-Lucky, “I was always self-conscious about my teeth, so for me, the mask offered a welcome break from the judgement I so often feel in the United States.”
I should point out that Mr. Sedaris has lived overseas for many years, first in France and then in England. He routinely traveled from his home in England to see his French periodontist for periodic maintenance. He goes on to lament that his teeth are the first thing people notice about him. When I read this, I immediately googled pictures of Mr. Sedaris. “What’s he talking about,” I thought, “it’s not so bad.” Then again, I had just returned from Morocco where, outside of the fancy hotels, it was commonplace to see people with missing or rotted teeth. Besides, as a dentist, I came across unsightly, decayed teeth every day. Maybe I had just become used to seeing bad teeth.
Mr. Sedaris is right, of course.
In the United States, teeth are important.
Research has shown that people with darkened, yellowed, or crooked teeth are perceived more negatively, including assumptions about numerous personality traits. You might be wondering how a few missing teeth can be linked to laziness, or untrustworthiness, but that’s what appears to happen. Not only is someone with a beautiful smile considered more successful, they are more successful. They get hired more readily. Upon viewing their photos, others swipe right rather than left. The white, straight, perfect smile has become a metaphor for confidence and competence.
We all want to be that person.
Or at least Mr. Sedaris did, as successful as he already was. He signed up for Invisalign treatment, followed by a bridge and some cosmetic crowns. When his dentist showed him the before pictures, he said, “I saw what looked to be the mouth of a hippo in attack mode.”
Afterwards, and $14,000 later, Sedaris’s longtime partner Hugh said, “I liked you better before.”
But Sedaris was thrilled. For the first time, he wasn’t self-conscious about his mouth. His teeth were now “unremarkable,” meaning they no longer signaled something glaring or amiss, like wearing a sundress or shorts to a black-tie event.
“When told by a woman at a book signing that I had a beautiful smile, I seriously thought I might cry. Never did I expect to hear that from someone,” he writes.
I, too, have witnessed this, after transforming the smiles of patients who previously covered their mouths or smiled tight lipped. They’d cry joyful tears realizing they will no longer be singled out for their misshapen, missing, and broken teeth. For many of these patients, their mouths are healthier – and they can chew better. For the first time, Sedaris can cleanly bite off a spaghetti noodle, like a “normal person.”
Mr. Sedaris is fortunate in that he can afford to do so. What of the many Americans who can’t afford dental care, much less pay extra for braces that masquerade as clear trays? I admit I don’t have a solution for this complex healthcare storm cloud that hovers over the richest country on the planet. But perhaps we can begin by focusing on what we have in common, rather than what sets us apart. Instead of making judgements about less than perfect teeth, surely there must be some other remarkable characteristic worth paying attention to. Better yet, let’s look for a positive non-physical trait. Like compassion, or seeing that person has picked up his dog’s poop.
As for Mr. Sedaris, he writes, “America is a hard place to be if you’re self-conscious about your smile, especially certain parts of America like Southern California. I used to think that people there wore dark glasses because it was hard to drive with the sun in their eyes. More likely it’s the glare of an oncoming driver’s teeth that blinds them.”