There’s been a lot of talk in our household lately about what it means to be and stay human in our world. So much pulls at us to turn off our hearts, turn off our minds, and fit nicely into roles and activities and concerns dictated by systems (institutions, social groups, media) that seem far less interested in meaningful connectedness (with self, others, earth, the divine) than in keeping “the machine” alive (our economy, our institutions, our entertainment industry, etc.). How do we stay human in the midst of these Powers?

As I’ve personally been adjusting to a new city and surroundings, this question has been scratching at my insides.

Sunday afternoon I went to find a pair of shoes (note to self: do NOT place favorite leather sandals in a plastic bag with a wet swimsuit and then forget about them for a week). The stores in our area are designed for people with far more money than I have, so I decided to drive some miles down the road.

In the next town over, as I discovered, the streets are far more…organic than simple gridlines. They curve and wind, and come to three and five and six-way intersections. And they’re clothed with one-way signs. I arrived at my desired destination partly wanting to fling my arms at the sky in victory.

Into Mervyns I marched, glancing at the store clerk watching me arrive. But instead of any medal (I made it here, didn’t I???), she bestowed on me a glare. Ouch. I kept on walking.

Further and further into the store I went, realizing in deepening ways that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore (I’ve only been there once; it’s Dorothy I’m quoting). Apparently white people don’t shop at the Mervyns in Redwood City.

Now that’s fine. No problem. But let me explain something: Shopping has never been an easy thing for me. I’m six feet tall, with a ten-and-a-half shoe size; you’d be amazed at how unfriendly and exclusive the clothing industry can be to women like me. I often come home from shopping wondering what planet I really come from, and when and why my people so heartlessly abandoned me on this one.

So the deeper into Mervyns I went, the more I felt familiar antennae growing from my forehead, my skin turning crazy Martian orange, and my frame announcing, Look at me! I’m a freak! Do stare! A very quick breeze through the shoe department and I was nearly running back to my car, wanting to hide from the many real and imagined eyes that had been on me there.

My curving, 45-minute-drive-home-that-should-have-taken-20 gave me time to reflect on how unhuman I had felt in that setting, and what a difference it would have made if anyone had smiled kindly at me (I usually don’t get smiled at kindly in stores where there are white people, either, so this isn’t a race thing). A much stronger, more self-actualized person than I am might have found ways to stay human regardless, but being as I’m me, I would have really loved some help.

So maybe that’s my point here: to stay human in a world like ours, we need each other to help speak and look and hug that into being. Regularly. I don’t think we can do it on our own. We’re all of us banging away at our insecurities and our feeling-out-of-place-nesses of one sort or another, and it makes the process much more bearable when we get reminders in a day that we exist, and we’re okay, and hey, you’re worth a gentle smile.

Could such a simple thought confront those potent Powers?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 31st, 2004 at 11:15 am and is filed under Healing, Philosophy, Psychology, Mindfulness, Bridge-building. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.