I took the tram the other day to an outlying town. The journey gave me some time to sit and watch the world go by for a little while, and just for a few minutes it was bliss to be able to people-watch.
Many people got on and off my carriage, and I watched them, and wondered, and listened, and imagined . . . and formed my own opinions about their lives and who they were. In short, I was curious.
- So, the man with muddy workmen’s boots? Obviously an architect late for an on-site meeting (well, he did tell a caller on his mobile that he’d got the plans with him).
- The young woman who sat down beside me for only a few stops? Got it! Studying medicine. The pile of textbooks in her hand was a giveaway. Not that I saw their titles of course . . . but I drew my conclusions based on her alighting at the University Hospital stop.
- And the two women swapping shopping purchases? Lifelong friends who went shopping together every Friday. (Hmm, I suppose they could have only just met – and in my defence, I only had body language to go on as they were sitting some distance away (it was a big tram).)
We all know that in reality I knew nothing at all about my fellow travellers, because they were strangers, and chose to keep their lives private from and separate to mine.
Quite rightly too.
They certainly didn’t deserve me intruding and imagining all sorts of lifestyle scenarios and context for them.
But then it reminded me that we do that, don’t we? We look at someone and make a decision, and form a judgement about them and their lives. My friend Kev, who knew more than a thing about diversity, believed that doing this was human nature, and we shouldn’t ever pretend we don’t do it. Rather, it’s what we do with those moments when a narrow-mindedness, a putting people in a box opportunity, a judging from a distance subjectivism takes hold that’s really important; and Kev knew best of all about the consequences of people acting on snap decisions, ill-thought-out stereotyping and foundationless critique.
And just as I was thinking all this . . . and patting myself on the back for my ability to remember to be non-judgemental or opinionated, what happened? A young girl got on with a kiddy’s toy car set, resplendent in its transparent plastic holdall, complete with price tag. Looking into this holdall, I could see everything I wanted to know about her purchase. Nothing hidden, no surprises. There were 6 cars, on two tiers, in a variety of colours, with flashy wheels and decals, and a cartoon theme from a very famous children’s film.
So what did I do? I put her straight into a box: favourite auntie, buying Christmas gift for young nephew; morning spent shopping in town, pleased with purchases, nephew will love it.
Ah, if only it was that easy to see through a lens, a window, a spyglass, into someone’s personality, preferences or profiles.
And the reason I fell once more into the trap? Well, a few weeks ago, the young girl’s purchase would have been safely wrapped up in a free carrier-bag, and now . . . I’m guessing she opted not to pay the 5p charge just to get one. Damn those 5p carrier bags! They’re making my assumptions and generalisations so much easier!
ChristineWilkinsonCoaching 