In Appreciation of Frown Lines

My dad had a way of furrowing his brow when he was listening intently to something you were saying. He would scrunch his eyebrows together, tilt his head slightly, and rest his hand on his forehead, sometimes twirling his bushy eyebrow hair, while you talked.

I share this furrowing-the-brow way of concentrating with my dad (sans the eyebrow twirling). I hadn’t focused on this similarity until several years ago when I started noticing people at work saying to me in meetings, “What’s the matter, Karen? You seem concerned about something,” or “You seem like you’re not sure about this direction.” I’d say “Oh no, I’m fine---I’m just thinking.”

It surprised me the first few times. Then I realized people were reading my focused listening as critical, and that this reading was becoming more common as the lines between my brows became more deeply etched.

It was like resting bitch face but instead, thinking bitch face.

Full Focusing Mode

Resting Thinking Face

When we all switched to Zoom during the pandemic, I had more opportunities to stare at myself, and I could see why people thought I looked perturbed or critical. I’d catch myself with a furrowed brow, and I’d consciously counteract it by opening my eyes wider and relaxing my forehead muscles. To round out my “receptive” look, I’d activate my smile muscles slightly to offset the natural downturn of my mouth that had gradually been developing. In this narcissistic rabbit hole of self-tuning, I’d realize I had completely stopped listening to anything anyone was saying.

That impulse to self-correct and look agreeable was both individual—-I was a born people-pleaser—-and cultural. The compulsion to appear pleasant and receptive to others is deeply gendered. (Think: Trump’s criticism of reporter Kaitlin Collins for not smiling.) And it turns out that our era of Zoom, in which we are constantly confronted with our appearance, has led women to have more “mirror anxiety” and greater feelings of facial dissatisfaction. This is one reason women have felt more “Zoom fatigue” in meetings.

But there’s another reason I’ve been thinking about frown lines: They are becoming a less common sight in popular media due to the prevalence of Botox and other neuromodulators which block the signals that cause forehead muscles to contract. Will others see me as even more perturbed than I am as we all get more accustomed to smoother, less expressive faces? Will those with intact frown lines be approached like Uncle Leo in Seinfeld when Elaine painted large black eyebrows on him after he singed his off (“Woah…no need to get angry!”)?

Uncle Leo’s Eyebrows

Research has shown us that Botox and other neuromodulators have changed people’s perception of others, as well as their own experience of emotions. This is due to the facial feedback hypothesis, which says that not only do we show emotions on our faces, but we experience feelings in part by activating our face muscles. Studies have established that consciously changing the expression on one’s face---for instance by smiling---can make people feel happier. And there is some evidence that Botox can have an effect on major depression by reducing facial expressions of sadness or despondence.

This all sounds pretty good for the makers of Botox, but there is a wrinkle (*wink*): It is harder to discern emotions on faces with less movement, and Botox also diminishes people’s ability to read others’ emotions. How could that be? Because part of how we interpret others is through mimicking the expressions on their faces, and this mimicry is diminished when the face is capable of less movement.

And what about my association between frowning and deep concentration? It turns out that I’m not alone. In one study researchers looked at frowning’s role in different types of reasoning. Subjects were asked to do a difficult mental task, and researchers studied their facial expressions while assessing the amount of fast processing (mental shortcuts) versus slower processing (analytic thinking). They found that frowning was associated with an increase in the slower processing type of reasoning. Not only that: they found that more analytic thinking could be induced with voluntary frowning.

So I’m holding on to the power of my frown lines. When I am angry or critical (or joyful, surprised, confused) I want to be read that way, and I want to be able to fully process emotional cues from others. And the possibility of being misinterpreted as critical or perturbed when I’m actually just focusing? Well, perhaps this just evens out my history of people-pleasing, like….Yeah, now that I’m older maybe you should be a little scared of me.

I’m leaning into my inherited form of concentration and I’m seeing my “elevens” with more affection now. When I knit my brows together, I see a caterpillar scrunching his way down a twig, a shar-pei puppy, an image of a tesseract from a childhood favorite, A Wrinkle in Time. I see my dad and his whip-smart mind, his many years of concentration and analysis. I see the power of these small muscles.

Let’s flex them.

P.S. I am speaking at an event for Ivy Sisters called “Beauty and Authentic Power,” and I’d love for you to join! It is Friday, April 17 at 1pm EST. See event details here. (You can sign up for Ivy Sisters for free, to attend this event on a drop-in basis.)