When I was younger, I learned a lot about rhetorical questions. Mostly from my parents. "Who do you think you're talking to?" "What, you think money grows on trees?" "Why isn't your room clean yet?" "Why do you have to do chores--oh, so you're not a part of this family?" "So I guess you're too sick to go to practice?" "Are you giving me attitude?" "Did you roll your eyes?" "Is that disrespect?" That's just to name a few. And after each of these questions, there's the infamous pause, where they look at you intently, daring you to answer. Then, after one or two times of you making the mistake and thinking that they genuinely care about what you have to say, you catch on you're supposed to either not respond or mumble what they expect to hear. Once, I remember my dad asking me, if I thought the "world revolved around" me? He looked at me for a few seconds: waiting. I waited. And he waited. So I said no. What else was I suppose to say? I wasn't even finished the word when he said, "You're not supposed to answer that, because obviously you do." The only thing I could think was, "Well, why'd you ask if you knew the answer?"
The big takeaway I missed--and am still sometimes missing--is that the pause isn't for you to insert a witty, sarcastic remark that will get you grounded for the foreseeable future, but to think, not about the question, but of the glaring lack of answers with the exception of one. Usually, the answers are yes/no. Rhetorical questions are there to let you understand that there is only one right answer, and if you have to say it, then you're wrong. It need not be spoken, because only one answer fits; it's process of elimination if it only had one option. Patrick Henry used rhetorical questions in his speech. When I read it aloud, and paused after each question, I finally understood the pause. All of these respectable men faced with an imminent war, holding on to this eluding idea of hope, when this person says, let it go, you wanna know why? Actually, you all already know why, but this series of questions will show you what you already know.
The rhetorical question is so beautiful because it does just that: it shows you what you already know. It puts your thinking back on track. For the sake of repeating myself, you don't ask the question because you know the answer; you ask because they know the answer and the questions makes them see that.
I perfectly agree with the point, but not the example. My mom and dad do expect an answer, and they expect it quickly or else they'll scream at you. Then they generally repeat your answer as loud as they possibly can and start explaining why your answer is correct in a very, very, very condescending tone.
ReplyDeleteYes, as a child I, too, fell into the trap that the rhetorical question poses. I still do in fact, fall into that trap, because, sometimes, I can't resist the lure of a witty remark. Unfortunately, in my case, rhetorical questions are a catch-22, because answer or no answer, either way, I'm screwed. But back to the main theme, rhetorical questions and their purposes, I definitely agree with your premise, that they are meant to reveal a truth often difficultly acknowledged.
ReplyDeleteHaha, I totally agree with this post! I was reading this and I was like dang.. dude that's deep.. Great connection!
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