Have You Ever Wondered Why People Shout?
I think I know why — you can tell me if I’m wrong. I won’t shout at you
What are you doing?!
My basketball coach shouted at me.
It was my first ever game playing for the school team. I was just getting into the sport and had never had much experience.
My first break attempt should have been a simple lay-up.
But I was swatted. Slammed against the board.
I got painfully swatted.
And my coach could not stand it. I couldn't stand it.
I stayed on the bench for the latter part of the first half. Frustration was so much that my coach insisted I observe the game from outside.
But first, he shouted.
With such confusion, don’t it make you wanna scream?
My tentative theory is that confusion and frustration tip people into shouting.
Or screaming.
It starts when we are born.
For your whole life, inside your mother’s womb, you have been swimming in the warm pool of amniotic goo.
You could kick your mother when you felt like it. You could pee and nobody harasses you. You got fed every single time.
You were living the best life.
Then one time, you were forced into the world, headfirst. Some of you came out with your butts. Others with their legs. Others extended their hands just to have a feel of the new world they were getting into.
I remember once doing an exam and the child wrapped its fingers around my hand. It was ready to come out. So I thought.
From the wails it made after being born, it probably wasn’t. The same story holds for every normal childbirth.
First, the world is dry. It's not as moist as the one they were used to.
Secondly, other people start touching you and wiping you with a material you are not used to.
Thirdly, you take your first breath. Now you have to breathe for yourself. It requires effort.
Everything is new.
Everything is bizarre.
Everything is hitting you every single time.
With such confusion, doesn’t it make anyone want to scream?
Children, at a such young age, scream. I wager they scream because of confusion. What they are encountering doesn’t make sense.
You tell me I’m wrong
Now, the child has grown and is almost an adult.
It’s that time when adolescents develop a rogue attitude. In an African family — basically, anyone born before 2000, of that I am 95.4% certain — you have no such luxury.
For this cohort, a parent’s word is final.
But what we have always seen on TV was the rebellious antics of teenagers. They’d sneak out at night to attend parties. Some would try new drugs. New outfits.
First-time experiences. First-time kisses.
When their parents find out?
Confusion. Frustration. Anger.
Why did you do this? Do you know how dangerous it can be? You could get yourself into trouble!
You just don’t get it, Mom!
This exchange is not typically done over text. Neither is it done in subtle tones.
They shout at each other.
Not shout. I mean SHOUT!!!
I can never imagine shouting at my mother. I’d be asking for death. Being killed alive!
Now you know I was born before 2000.
During such heated arguments, the mother does not understand why her daughter behaves as she does.
The daughter does not understand why the mother denies her a chance to indulge in what her friends are doing.
They don’t understand each other. Both are confused.
So what do they do? They scream
You tell me I’m wrong, then you better prove you’re right — Janet Jackson.
Then you better prove you’re right
Nobody proves the other is right in the heat of the moment.
It might even get worse. Voices can get raised. If there is anything fragile in the vicinity, it might end up broken.
What’s going on between the two people exchanging words is not information overload. It is not that they are sending too many signals to each other. It’s that there is a filter failure.
I have previously talked of Hardin’s three filters against folly. Filters are the schemas we use to make sense of the world.
In medicine, there is a famous phrase that goes:
You only see what you know. What you do not know, you do not see.
Or something like that.
The idea is you cannot make sense of something if you have no idea of it. It is not that it does not make sense. It is that you have no way of it making sense.
Filter failure is akin to confusion. Mounting confusion can turn into frustration. Frustration, once it gets a good grip on you, makes you shout.
Sorry, shout!
The exclamation point is necessary.
Stop pressurin’ me
Have you ever tried to talk in a noisy room?
Your solution? Shout.
And if you are not being heard? Shout some more.
I remember one encounter with a patient who had his finger traumatically disarticulated. He came into the hospital shouting.
We quickly gave him painkillers while we cleaned and assessed the impact of the injury. In the process, we were trying to establish how he got his small finger cut. But you know what? There was a language barrier.
It was frustrating.
In matters of injured muscle and bone, knowing the sequence of events helps the doctor establish how best to address the patient’s predicament. This patient could not properly explain himself, so he raised his voice.
We could not understand him, so we slowed down our pace of talking and did what? We raised our voice.
I often notice how foreigners, when they try to speak the local dialect, raise their voices.
First, they speak a little slower than they are used to. Secondly, they raise their voice.
Usually, it’s when they are lost and asking for directions.
To them, it is frustration. It makes them want to shout. But they have to be courteous. It is difficult to be courteous with a raised voice.
But they try. In the worst accent ever.
Make me wanna scream
I think there’s something going on here.
It cannot be this consistent from childhood into adulthood.
Children, especially before they can talk, scream to get attention. Even after learning to talk, if they are not understood, they raise their voices.
Couples, when in a disagreement, tend to raise their voices. If one person is angry, they can show it in different ways. But when both are frustrated, they tend to shout at each other.
Something’s in the water. Frustration born out of confusion. The easiest option is to shout.
We shout when we have no control over communication
We shout when we want to be understood.
We shout because nobody gets us.
How can we change that?
I have my ideas but I’d want to hear yours first.





