We meet people every day: on the street, in the grocery store, on the subway. Our eyes register faces in a fraction of a second and the brain performs a miracle—matching them to thousands of memories.
But what happens when we don’t want to recognize someone? When we deliberately choose to look away?
The neurological diagnosis prosopagnosia, or face blindness, is an inability to recognize faces. For those who live with prosopagnosia, everyday life is a constant challenge. Yet in a hyper-connected world, a different phenomenon is emerging—a kind of social variant: a self-selected filter that lets us pretend we don’t see people we actually recognize.
When “How Are You?” Becomes an Experiment
Years ago, I ran my own test. Each time I met someone I knew, the conversation began as usual:
—“Hi, how are you?”
When they asked me back, I answered with brutal honesty:
—“Terrible! Do you have an hour for a coffee? I really need to talk to someone.”
The result was striking. Almost everyone smiled awkwardly and said,
—“Oh… I’m on my way to a meeting, but I’ll call you later.”
No one called.
That small experiment revealed what I suspected: the phrase “How are you?” is rarely a question. It’s a code, a ritual, polite sound-padding that really means “I see you, we acknowledge each other, but let’s not go deeper right now.”
By answering truthfully, I broke the code. People felt ambushed, unsure how to handle a real feeling in the middle of their busy day.
Prosopagnosia: When the Brain Can’t
True prosopagnosia is something else entirely. It’s a neurological condition—congenital or caused by injury to the fusiform gyrus, the brain area that processes faces.
Someone with prosopagnosia can look at their own family and fail to recognize them. They rely on other cues: gait, voice, hairstyle, clothing, gestures. Many describe meeting a close friend and not realizing who it is until they hear the person speak.
It’s a draining daily reality that’s often misunderstood. Friends may think you’re aloof or disinterested when you’re simply unable to recognize them.
The Voluntary, Social Face Blindness
But in our digital era, I notice another phenomenon—social prosopagnosia. We don’t have brain damage. We choose not to recognize.
We spot someone we know in town but pretend not to. Why?
Because we’ve seen their latest political post or their polarizing Instagram story. That memory clashes with our self-image:
“If I greet them, am I endorsing their stance? Will I be pulled into a debate I don’t want?”
The easiest response is to act face-blind: a quick glance away, a feigned distraction. If they ask later, “Didn’t you see me?”
—“Oh, I didn’t recognize you!”
A white lie—but effective.
This isn’t mere shyness. It’s a defense against cognitive dissonance—the discomfort of meeting someone whose digital persona unsettles our worldview.
Social media amplifies this. We know too much about each other’s opinions and flaws. Every like or share becomes a potential conflict.
Energy, Reputation, Convenience
This chosen blindness serves several purposes:
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Energy conservation. A confrontation demands emotional effort we may lack.
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Self-image protection. Being seen with someone whose views provoke others might feel risky.
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Simple convenience. In a day packed with pings and demands, it’s easier to feign distraction than start a hard conversation.
It’s as if we’ve invented a social superpower: selective invisibility.
The Face as a Mirror
Yet each time we use this superpower, we lose something. A face is more than a surface; it’s a mirror. Meeting someone we once knew forces us to confront our own past. Perhaps that’s what really stings.
Pretending not to recognize is also a way to avoid seeing who we ourselves once were.
The Coffee Experiment as Magnifier
My little “terrible, have an hour?” experiment now looks like a sibling act. I broke the small-talk code.
Those who pretend not to see break the recognition code.
Both behaviors expose that our social rituals aren’t built on truth but on keeping life friction-free. They’re traffic rules—meant to avoid collisions, not foster understanding.
What Does This Do to Us?
This question reaches beyond prosopagnosia.
If we keep choosing which faces to acknowledge and which to ignore, what happens to our ability to truly meet one another?
We risk creating real-world filter bubbles. The street becomes an Instagram feed where we swipe past faces we no longer “follow.”
That paradox is striking: we’re more connected than ever yet meet less in reality. We lose the unexpected encounters that once forged friendships and ideas. Perhaps we lose empathy itself, because empathy is born in the unfiltered gaze.
A Quiet Invitation
I don’t think the answer is to stop for a deep chat every time. But maybe we can start with honesty.
When we say “I didn’t recognize you” but did, we might ask ourselves why. Was it time pressure, fear, or simple habit?
And the next time someone says, “Terrible, do you have an hour?” maybe we can pause—five minutes of real presence can matter. It isn’t dangerous to see a face that challenges us. It’s dangerous to stop seeing.
Conclusion
Prosopagnosia is a genuine neurological challenge. But the social face blindness we cultivate can be just as limiting.
Recognizing a face is acknowledging both the other person and ourselves.
So perhaps next time we meet a familiar gaze—even if we dislike their latest post—we can simply say:
“Hi. I see you. How are you—really?”
By Chris...