Also, handedness affects not just the tools but the making of those tools. If you’re a left-handed Homo habilis attempting to ape a right-hander’s technique for flaking a stone for a sharp edge, you’re probably going to be less successful at it. Either you use the non-dominant hand or have to mentally flip it. On the other hand, you’re probably going to be more successful at embedding said chopper in an enemy tribemember’s skull.
I’ve heard that 10% number, too. But when was that determined; in the time when children’s left hands were tied behind their back in school so they’d learn to write with their right? If so, the real number might be higher
A brief google search says that the research producing that 10% figure was conducted in the 1970s. If it were significantly different, surely we would have had new studies conducted more recently to double-check that number.
Less chance of getting an STD? I dunno.
Which means the younger baby boomers were children; they were the ones who had their hands tied. I don’t know enough about the study to comment on it but I do know if you study a skewed population you get skewed results, even if you don’t realize it
Also in baseball pitching, though it’s not much of a surprise.
I was born in '51 and trying to force lefthanded kids to be righthanded had already gone out of style by the time I got to school.
Pretty much describes my own thoughts on the matter.
It’s interesting because I’m not really that socially awkward. My anxiety is completely disproportionate to the actual risk. The only time my social awkwardness is really apparent is if I’m with someone else who’s just as awkward. Like I understand why autistic people feel afraid of social contact, because that dimension is a mystery to them - for me, I’m able to pick up on a lot of social nuance. I often wonder if my oversensitive perception makes my anxiety worse.
For example, my husband, who has some autistic traits but is probably not autistic, frequently gets so excited he interrupts people. And I can see the subtle cues that show the person he’s talking to is frustrated or uncomfortable. And it freaks me out. And then I might say something socially awkward, like admonish him for interrupting, because I feel bad about how the other person is feeling.
Then I feel even more awkward.
But the only thing that’s actually making me awkward is the anxiety itself. When I don’t have anxiety, I’m fine.
I also have a hard time performing anything. I don’t have that whatever other people have where they can just blow past an unpleasant feeling for the sake of social cohesion. It’s very hard for me to say “fine” if I’m not fine. I can’t fake interest in the stuff that bores me. I can’t do the dance.
Anyway this all feels more psychological than instinctual. I believe some people are naturally shy, but a lot of us learn it.
It could be a trauma response due to your upbringing. Some people become highly sensitive to the thoughts and moods of others so they can constantly read and manage the emotions of people around them, or know when to leave a potentially dangerous situation, because they learned those abilities while young as a means of staying safe.
Did your husband have a safe and happy upbringing? Maybe thats why he doesn’t notice all those minor social faux paus, because he doesn’t have an unconscious fear of other people becoming dangerous due to them.
For the most part he did. His parents had a terrible marriage and he was inappropriately recruited to be his mother’s primary means of emotional support, but he never felt unsafe. And yes, I’m sure trauma is a factor for me. He’s just got a little bit of the nutty professor archetype in him, and when he gets started on a thought he has to finish it. He’s in general way more comfortable socially than I am, sometimes I just watch him in awe as he approaches and talks to people. It’s not that he’s super smooth and charismatic all the time, he can be awkward himself, he’s just unafraid, and the lack of fear gets him really far.
It’s fascinating to watch and I’m totally jealous.
I also want to not conflate being shy with social anxiety with introversion. You could maybe argue that being shy vs socially anxious is a matter of degree, but that degree can be significant. I would love to be outside with the beautiful weather right now, but I have a hard time leaving my house, especially on days where I might see a stranger outside. I even avoid children I don’t know. Yet despite all that I do have a lot of friends. I have my writers group of ten years, my Zen community, work colleagues, etc. So even then it depends on the context.
I actually think my type of situationally-dependent social anxiety would be the best kind, evolutionarily speaking. You want to be able to be close and comfortable with those 100 people in your tribe, but cautious with anyone new.
I just want to emphasize this response.
We didn’t always live in cities with millions of people, where a social faux pas was basically of no material consequence. In smaller groups, social standing really matters and being ostracized from the group can be a death sentence. And so shyness is an important strategy, both tactically (being hesitant to speak up or draw attention in some situations) and genetically (that offspring with a tendency towards shyness may have an advantage in some communities).
And of course we see it, to various degrees, in all social species.
As implied though in my previous paragraph, social anxiety and the like is not as useful a strategy in the modern world. Plus, as we spend more time online, we’re just missing practice with face to face interactions. Like craving fatty and sugary foods, a set of behaviours which worked great for our ancestors, can be counter-productive in the modern world.