I had my car in the shop this last week and, since the repair place is in a different part of town than I usually see, took the opportunity to check out a coffee shop I thought I could use in a novel.
The whole area, while not exactly ghetto, is definitely on the wronger side of the tracks. Half the buildings are boarded up. Tattoo shops are more plentiful than gas stations. It's perfect for a particular story I'm working on.
I don't often take the time to really notice details. I'm in too much of a hurry, or I've got something else going on mentally, or I get scared and shut down and don't pay attention.
But this day wasn't like that. I noticed the smells from the noodle shop that wafted over an entire block. I noticed how the little apartment over a boarded-up shop was overflowing with houseplants. I noticed the graffiti on the side of an affluent watersports dealer, and how it looked less like a gang sign and more like someone wanted the thrill of doing something rebellious. I noticed how the used car dealers had put in flagstone patios to look more upscale, and how the billiards supply and hobby stores don't manage to stay in business. I noticed the quirky "You Are Here" sign outside the coffee shop (literally nothing but the words printed on a sign with a wavy post stuck in the concrete). I noticed the migrant workers grouped by twos and threes in the park, dispersing as the fog started to burn off and dog walkers began to come through. I noticed that in this part of town everyone steered clear of everyone else--but that it was easy to catch their eye and exchange a smile.
I pondered that as I finished up my chai and walked back to the repair shop. One of the things I hate about San Francisco is how dehumanizing it feels. A day in SF often leaves me feeling like I've been stomped on and spit out. I compared the two locations, noting their similarities in affluence (or lack of) and people. How odd it is to feel dehumanized when you're surrounded by humanity?
I caught the eye of a black man walking the opposite way under the freeway overpass and smiled. He was listening to music through his headphones. I thought he looked a little surprised, but he smiled back.
A little way past that, I smiled at an older man who just barely began to return it when we passed each other. He probably wasn't used to making eye contact, either. There's always that moment when you see another person on the sidewalk where you wonder if they pose a threat, and you try to decide how much attention to give them in order to let them know you're aware but not look like you're challenging them.
And about then it occurred to me that the difference I was feeling between this neighborhood and San Francisco was all in how I connected with people. I wonder, if I made eye contact in San Francisco--humanizing the people around me--would I still feel the same way?
Sure, there are lots of people who will take advantage of you. Lots of people who are unsafe. Lots of scam artists, thieves, and genuinely rotten individuals. But I think we assume everyone is like that, when in reality they're not. Look around at the people in your daily life. The people in your neighborhood, coffee shop, work environment, gas station, grocery store. They're all making a living. They're all listening to music. They're all looking for a reward at the end of a long day, or a birthday present for a child, or just to get that dog walked so they can watch TV.
No one is perfect, and few even consider themselves "good". But dangerous? Malevolent? Predatory? That stuff's for crime shows and detective novels. Even if you pass a rotten fellow on the street, odds are he's not going to start something then and there.
It's such a small thing, to validate someone's existence through eye contact. But it feels so good. I know how it felt when I was working retail and someone went out of their way to acknowledge me as a person. I probably won't remember this for long, and I know I won't always be present in the moment, but I want to make an effort to validate people when they cross my path--even if that's only literally.
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