I sat on the L train penning down my thoughts as they came to me. I was aware of the teenage boy next to me pointedly staring and muttering under his breath at the sniffling homegirl on his other side. It got so intense that I looked up, right when she did. She locked eyes with me, then her attention swung to him.
"WHAT are you looking at?!" she exclaimed. "I'm sick!"
He kept mumbling, but averted his eyes. Next his attention landed on me. I felt increasingly uncomfortable as he watched me writing. Maybe I shouldn't journal on the subway? I forget that our personal bubbles can easily be permeated. Anyhow, his eyes dug deeper and deeper into my page, until I was sure he was with me on this emotional rollercoaster of a morning.
"Excuse me..." Damn. It was enough that his eyes were violating my morning. Now his voice?
"You have really nice handwriting!" I look up and he grins at me, completely genuine, a break from the dark energy he's been throwing like darts around the train.
"Thank you!" I smile back, and return to finish my sentence, punctuate it, and store away my journal for another, more private time.
My mind is racing. I just exchanged some nice energy with this young man. Does that make me complicit in the deathstares and completely rude energy he directed at the woman on his left? By entering into an obvious, vocalized smile and exchange, am I contributing to her feelings of discomfort and lack of safe space on the train? But I also don't want to perpetuate a cycle of negativity this morning. If he (or I, for that matter) is having a bad start to the day, maybe our exchange will ease him into the day, setting a different tone for upcoming interactions.
Now, what does it mean for the woman? A large part of me is conflicted as well because I recognize the gender implications of these two interactions. A (very young) man just disrespected and dissed a sister for her physical condition. He felt entitled to stare her down and entitled to read my journal. Entitled to compliment my handwriting and know that he would be permitted to. So am I complicit in something wrong? Yes. I am also complicit in what I believe is something humanizing, in a new type of interaction.
And as I step into the sunlight, feeling fragile and contemplative, it begins again. I'm waiting to pay for my buttered blueberry bagel and large coffee (skim milk, 2 sugars) at the bodega, when the voice of the man in front of me interrupts my thoughts.
"3/4 water, man."
"What size do you want?"
"3/4 water!! Agua!! Water!!" Clearly the man misheard the store worker and thinks he doesn't understand English. I come in here every day. This man was most likely born in the U.S.
"I know. I'm asking you what size you want," the unaccented answer returns to him.
The confused/rude man and I start to leave at the same time. I hold the door for him.
"Thank you, sweetie!!" he smiles down at me.
"You're welcome!" But are you?
What if they're only nice to You?
