I always knew Times Square for its stores, lights, and sounds. I associated all the glitz and glamor of New York City with this one place- a place that excites emotion but does not create a lasting psychological impact. I never imagined that this place would be so close to heart after the encounter that I had there last Tuesday.
It was about 7:45 AM, and I had taken seat at a bench that faced Gap. I wrapped a quirky green and orange scarf around my neck, crossed my legs, and pulled out my little mirror and eyeliner pen. It was makeup time.
I sat for a few moments with my lips puckered, eyes “smizing” (as Tyra Banks would say), holding the mirror in my left hand, and painting a thin line onto my eyelids with my right hand. I must have been a strange sight amongst the surrounding hustle and bustle of rush hour.
Within several moments a man, who I reckoned to be homeless, approached me with a limp in his leg. He was walking with a little cart, filled with black bags of some sort. A knit hat was pulled over his head and an oversized jacket hung on his body.
Being timid and physically weak, I instantly became alert of this stranger; within a millisecond I recoiled in my seat as he advanced towards me.
“Are you in your twenties?” he spoke with an alarmingly high-pitched voice. I stared at him wide-eyed.
“No,” I managed to mouth.
“You aren’t in your twenties, girl? Are you in your thirties?”
“No,” this time I said with a slightly greater confidence.
“My God, you aren’t in your twenties or thirties and you are puttin’ on makeup?” he exclaimed.
“Yes?”
He shook his head violently. “Girl, don’t put on makeup. If they don’t want you for you, they don’t want you for your makeup. You see how beautiful and clean your skin is? There ain’t no need for you to ruin that.” I couldn’t help but smile. I was relieved; this man did not pose any danger. “Don’t change yourself, stay beautiful like your mama made you”.
I put down my eyeliner. Blood rushed to my cheeks with the sensation of embarrassment. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes and shyly thanked him for his words.
“God bless you child. Have a good day,” he turned away from me and continued to walk along the street.
I remained sitting on the bench for a few moments, unable to move. This man’s words were golden. It is incredibly rare to encounter someone so brutally honest. Although he didn’t know me, my story, or where I came from, I felt that he genuinely cared about my well-being. He was not concerned about the impression that he made, but instead sought for his words of insight to be heard.
I was touched that day in the most unexpected way.
Photograph by Michael Kenna
I loved this encounter and conversation you had with this supposedly “dangerous” homeless man. It isn’t everyday you hear such an blunt, but honest and wise opinion about yourself from a complete stranger. The way you described the story with many details and dialogue also really helped bring the story to life.
This is quite a heartwarming encounter at the Crossroad of the World. Most New Yorkers treat homeless people like Susan Boyle’s fart while tourists are more willing to help out the subway musicians. However, you, a native New Yorker, stepped out of your comfort zone, and managed to engage in a wonderful conversation with this stranger. I admire your courage because so many of us do judge the book by its cover. This post has tons of vivid description, and I enjoyed reading it.