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 21st
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.