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Written By: Dr. Lissa Rankin
I’m sitting on the 1 Train of the NYC subway as I write this. It’s rush hour, so there are people everywhere. I’m lucky to have a seat next to a lovely older woman who is looking over my shoulder and smiling. When I went to New York for the first time and talked about how I was going to ride the subway instead of taking cabs, people from my hometown looked at me sideways, as if I had a death wish. “If you must, don’t look anyone in the eye,” someone said, and I never forgot it.
You can tell others here have heard the same thing. We are literally touching each other, shoulder-to-shoulder, elbow-to-elbow, knee-to-knee, and yet, almost everyone keeps to himself, as if we aren’t cosmically connected the way I know we are.
Connecting
Me, I guess I’m a risk-taker. I looked right at a woman wearing a head rag with two little kids squirming all over her legs. She looked exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept in days, and when she saw me looking at her, she gazed at her feet, where I noticed that her sandal strap is broken. I smiled at her, wishing her peace, opening my heart to her, showing her love, SEEing her. She stared back, finally making eye contact, and she didn’t look away until I did. At first, she looked scared, but then her face softened, and a tear welled up and fell down her cheek. We exchanged no words, but we definitely connected.
Getting braver
This emboldened me. I grabbed myself by the ovaries and looked squarely at the tough gangsta-looking dude in the corner with his butt crack showing, the one who was fidgeting and running his hands through his ‘fro. Although my first temptation was to hold my wallet closer, I decided to look past what he looked like and SEE who he really is. What I saw- a frightened, lonely soul aching to fit in- softened my heart and opened my eyes. He saw me looking at him and shot me a “You wanna mess with me?” eyebrow raise. I grinned, and he smirked a little half smile, as if trying to keep from erupting into a full-on grin.
Not everyone wants to be seen
Seated beside gangsta-dude was a woman in her thirties, wearing a blue suit and sensible pumps, listening to her iPod. Her shoes turned inward, and her shoulders hunched over. She swayed back and forth and seemed lulled by the movement of the subway. When she caught me looking, she gave me this “I only get five minutes to myself and this is it, so please- you seem nice- but this is my time. Can I keep it?” I nodded and looked away. Not everyone wants to be seen. In a city with as many people as New York, perhaps the avoidance of eye contact is a kind gesture- a way to protect privacy when everybody is in your business 24/7.
But I couldn’t help myself
My eyes moved past the woman in the suit to a girl, maybe 16, covered in tattoos with spiked hair dyed blue, a large ring pierced through her nose, and black lipstick. She saw me looking around and decided to challenge me to a stare-down- you know, the kind you did when you were her age. She glared at me, and I stared right back, sending PINK energy her way, washing her with love, while she pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. We went on this way longer than you might expect, and then she broke down and started cracking up. I started laughing in response to her girly giggle, and few people around us joined in on the chuckle.
Then someone saw ME
This whole time, one middle-aged woman carrying a grocery bag had been sitting across from me, watching my eyes. In between each person I looked at, our eyes met, and she smiled. After the laughter, she looked at me and nodded- a nod of approval, the kind you hope your mother gives you. When
