Are you an introvert, extrovert, ambivert, or otrovert? Defining our personalities is on a spectrum

The most important thing is that you have a personality, regardless of where you fit in.

Matúš Kovačovský/Unsplash

Last week, I read this article by Dr. Rami Kaminski that was published in The Guardian in August. The article, which is titled “Don’t like joining in? Why it could be your superpower,” is about Kaminski’s research on a new personality type that he named “otrovert.” (“Otro” means “other” in Spanish).

Kaminski, who’s been a practicing physician and psychiatrist for 40 years, says people who are otroverts often feel like they don’t belong in large groups, including at parties, in clubs, or team sports.

We’ve heard of personality types such as introvert, extrovert, and ambivert, but Kaminski gave a name to a personality type that didn’t seem to belong to the other long-established ones.

Here’s a bit how he describes otroverts:

Many otroverts have gone through life assuming that their lack of interest in parties and other such social activities must mean they are an introvert. But otroverts differ from introverts in a number of key ways: whereas introverts tend to be quiet and reserved, otroverts, like my patient A, can be quite gregarious and outgoing. An introvert wouldn’t typically be the first person to speak up assertively at a work meeting. But otroverts have no trouble standing up and confidently stating their point of view. Unlike introverts, most of whom would be completely drained from hours spent in a quiet corner of a pub talking with their closest friend, otroverts tend to gain energy from these kinds of deep conversations. Otroverts enjoy solitary time just like introverts do, but not out of the need to detach or recharge; rather, to avoid the loneliness and disconnection they feel when surrounded by others.

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Because they don’t feel an obligation to endorse the collective position, opinion, or point of view, otroverts are fiercely independent, outside-the-box thinkers who approach problems from new angles, often leading to creative discoveries and unique contributions. And because they define success by what they achieve, not what they achieve in relation to others, they are more fulfilled creatively and professionally too.

In his article in The Guardian, Kaminski wrote about a young patient, who was wasn’t depressed or anxious and was popular and well liked at school. Still, the patient turned down offers to parties and other events. He told Kaminski that being with a lot of people left him feeling lonely, bored, and disconnected.

There was nothing wrong with that young patient, but he lives in a world that loves people who join in. Kaminski said that patient went onto school, got a girlfriend, and has a life he loves.

“He is a full participant in his own life: deeply satisfied in the things he chooses to do and the people he chooses to be with,” Kaminski wrote.

When I read the article, I saw myself in the description. I have often felt like I don’t belong in many places and don’t feel the need to make myself belong. I always joked I am not a joiner. For a long time, I thought I was an introvert, but that didn’t completely fit either. Ambivert seemed like a better fit but still wasn’t accurate.

If someone suggests a group do a certain thing, I won’t go along to get along.

I refuse to go along with groupthink and have my own mind. While I am relatively quiet, I will speak up. I have been in trouble for it many times.

I am fiercely independent, dislike team sports, but am competitive but as a way to challenge and push myself. Whether I become good or successful at any of the things I try is not the point. I enjoy the challenge of trying.

I am restless, hate just sitting around, and like to learn and do new things.

I dislike and will ignore unsolicited advice. I have no problem making decisions and solving my own problems.

I do enjoy my own company and will go places and do things on my own. I don’t like parties or loud bars.

But not all of the descriptions of otroversion fit me. This article by The Otherness Institute delves into more characteristics of otroverts. While I think much of this describes me, some of it doesn’t.

For example, the article says otroverts are inflexible and and rigid in their own routines. That can mean otroverts aren’t spontaneous or have a sense of adventure. I love adventure!

I mean, my job is adventurous and I thrive on deadlines. On weekends I frequently just find myself in my car driving to anywhere I point out on a map with no advanced planning.

I have had many adventures, including solo trips, horseback riding, dance lessons, and I even flew a small airplane, twice.

But that’s the thing about personalities; no one can fit all of their traits and who they are into a type.

It’s also kind of funny for otroverts, who apparently don’t like to belong, to celebrate a personality type to which they belong.

Here’s something else: Our personalities are shaped by nature and nurture.

Now, some of my relatives may not agree, but I think I inherited parts of my personality from my father and my maternal grandmother. They were in-laws but they were alike in a lot of ways. Both loved solitude and quiet and hated people’s bullshit. Both very much had minds of their own.

My father, who was a sheet metal worker by trade, was a smart man with many talents and gifts. He like tinkering around the house or in his garage and could build or fix anything. He could also sing, dance, and had an excellent sense of humour.

While he wasn’t a writer, he was highly creative. I inherited from him an ability to have a solution to a creative problem after a night’s sleep.

My grandmother was also quiet and preferred being at home watching The Price is Right, Golden Girls (one of my favourite shows), or Jeopardy, while sitting in her rocking chair in the corner of the living room. She was often covered in a handknit blanket and had a bag of Scotch mints or Werther's butterscotch candies next to her.

She also took no shit from anyone, even from me. I wrote about her in this article in November 2021, recalling a time I found myself on her front step at 5 a.m. after a night out at Smooth Herman’s, long ago closed bar in downtown Sydney, Cape Breton.

“Where have you been Miss Beauty Queen?” she asked, angry that I woke her up so early that morning.

One of her sons called her Boss Hog, in honour of the corrupt Commissioner Jefferson Davis “Boss” Hogg from the 1980’s TV show The Dukes of Hazzard. I think she gave him shit for that.

Her home in Sydney River, like many Cape Breton homes, had an open-door policy. But when everyone left, she’d tell us grandchildren to shut the door and not let anyone back in.

According to family lore, my grandfather used to tell her who to vote for. She said she’d vote for whomever she wanted.

While I inherited their love of solitude, I’d say part of my current love of solitude was also shaped by my experience. The otrovert part of me many not like big parties, but that may also be because I worked in bars and restaurants for so many years. I can no longer tolerate the noise, chaos, and often the violence that comes with being around drunk people in crowded spaces.

These days, I am grateful for every weekend I can wake up early and spend the day riding horses, finding and photographing birds, on road trips, or out with a friend or two for dinner.

That’s the thing about personalities. No one is really one particular type, and our specific personalities fall on a spectrum. Maybe some people fall closer to one of the ends. Maybe others are all over the place.

But the important thing is that you have a personality. That’s an idea I can join in on.

As always, thanks for reading,
Suzanne