The Don Draper Problem in Real Life...

I must admit that I have never liked Don Draper.  I tried liking him in Season One of Mad Men; largely because the critics said I should like the brutally honest way in which the hugely popular TV show portrayed the rough and tumble, testosterone fueled battle for gender and career dominance in the decade of the sixties.  After having watched about a third of Season One, I realized that, contrary to the critics’ perspective, not only did I find Don Draper repulsive (irrespective of the later revelation of his traumatic childhood) in his personal and his professional life, but I also found him “unwatchable.” By that I mean, even for this recovering English teacher there is a certain level of verisimilitude which deserves to be ignored; if only because there are aspects of Life that don’t require imitation by Art.  In the case of Mad Men, Don Draper’s odious treatment of women, including his - then - wife, is all too much still with us in the second decade of the 21^st Century. I’m not at all clear as to why any thinking person needs Television to remind us that Draper’s aggressive, self-absorbed and misogynous persona continues to haunt the halls of corporate America some fifty years later.

These musings surfaced after reading a Blog entry by New York Times writer Michael Port entitled:  The Don Draper Problem: Root Out Your False Narratives. His column makes the case that Draper, the protagonist in Mad Men (actually, he’s the antihero of the show), is ultimately undone by the, rather farfetched, back-story in which Draper assumes the identity of an Army buddy killed in the Korean War. Port’s column highlights the brutal price Draper pays decades later for (literally) burying his secret identity.  What irritated me about Don Draper’s character (and to a lesser extent, Port’s deconstruction of it) is how little attention was focused on the price paid by family and friends who unknowingly suffered because of the (unacceptable) ways in which he compensated for his secret past. However, Port uses Draper’s dysfunction to make the case for personal authenticity in our every day adult interactions.  He explains his point this way:

 

“A great deal of the literature around "authenticity" really comes down to this question (do) we have the courage to talk about who we really are, not just who we want others to think we are.”

 

Don Draper’s fatal flaw, in effect, was his creation of an identity that was at odds with who he really was. And while Draper’s dramaturgy is an extreme case - even for the most credible of viewers - Port’s point is well worth considering.  He hit home with me when he posed this, all too common, scenario:

 

“Think about how some of us add on layers of personae to gain others' approval while hiding parts of ourselves that we think are embarrassing.”

 

Of course, we all do this to some extent. What our family knows about us is not necessarily the same as what our friends know about us (and some times, vice-versa). Port isn’t suggesting that we should become completely transparent in all situations - that would spell disaster for most of us; but he is making a compelling case for the value of being vulnerable in front of others, especially with respect to those aspects of our lives that keep us from being our best selves.  As evidence for this  never-ending challenge, Port sites Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg's success as the author of the bestselling book Lean In as an example of someone who was willing to name her internal conflict around intimacy, marriage and having children.

 

            At La Salle, it is not our role to encourage teenagers to be vulnerable (they are often able to accomplish that in highly unattractive ways all by themselves); but it is our role to nurture authenticity in their public and private behavior. Adolescents are fully capable of hiding their weaknesses from themselves and others. What they need to learn - and what Don Draper learned too late in life - is that personal authenticity (and its cousin, integrity) is strengthened when they allow themselves to be vulnerable in the presence of those who care about them - their parents, extended family and, at La Salle, their teachers and coaches. I have been privileged over the last 16 years to observe our students blossom because of the trust they placed in a teacher or coach who challenged them to be their best selves.

            So, I suppose that Don Draper’s character is worth paying attention to, if only to remind ourselves that a lack of authenticity - and integrity - can cause any one of us to walk down a path we didn’t intend and probably won’t result in a life well-lived. As our teenagers gear up for another school year, its worth noting that the most important outcome of their journey through their four years at La Salle is that they become good students and good people.