Click-clack-clomp.
Click-clack-clomp.
Click-clack-clomp.
As the red traffic hand changes to a walking pedestrian, I turn my downward gaze to face the oncoming onslaught of strangers. In the foreground, a couple walks together shoulder-to-shoulder — their outward hands carrying bags of Victoria’s Secret merchandise. As they approach, I notice their shoulders tilt towards each other to balance out the weight of their shopping bags. It wasn’t enough to draw anyone’s attention unless you were looking for it. I then turned my gaze towards the man’s face, noticing he looked pretty worn-out (either that or apathetic), much in contrast to the woman, who looked just about ready to hit another three stores.
Against the crunching of shoes against the asphalt, a man yawps behind me. Turning my head, I see a man with a Hawaiian shirt projecting his voice into a handheld phone. With his voice muffled by a face mask, he tries to yell over the car honks and chatter permeating the air around him. I think about how speaking with a mask on makes it sound as though as if we have a stuffy nose.
As I reach the middle of the intersection, the walk-lights begin blinking: A sharp-red palm implying I need to hurry up and cross the intersection, lest I want to face the wrath of a dozen impatient drivers.
Walking along Herald Square, I’m surprised at how lively the place is. The metal chairs and tables along the park are full of New Yorkers (mostly elderly) looking to enjoy an afternoon amidst the company of strangers. Though but a fraction of its former glory, the park was much more energetic than how it was three months ago. Pausing for a second, I stopped to muse whether or not Manhattan would ever regain its hustle and rush. As I studied the crowds around me, however, I realized something discomforting. As the shops and businesses of New York were beginning to return, something else was beginning to emerge as well: homeless people. I noticed that nearly every other sidewalk corner was occupied with some homeless individuals. As I was waiting for a traffic light, I overheard two men chatting underneath some unfinished building scaffolding. With unkempt hair and wearing shirts and jeans that had definitely seen better days, they shared stories of how they lost their jobs and homes during COVID.
It’s funny how homeless people are so-often invisible. They often hide in corners, alleyways, or subways away from the public eye. Whenever I saw a homeless person, I used to avert my eyes, shifting my gaze so that they were reduced to a peripheral image in the corner of my eyes. Walking through Herald Square now, though, no matter where I look, homelessness pervades the space. What used to be easy to disregard has now become nearly impossible to disregard.
But maybe this is exactly what needs to happen. The world has become completely desensitized to all the awful things that happen in the world because they happen every day of every week. It’s become nearly impossible to make everyone happy, so the second-best thing to do is to make sure you’re comfortable. Nobody wants to turn on the news and hear about another mass shooting, or how X number of people have died from the global pandemic. We would much rather put on a Netflix show and forget about how shitty the world is. It’s never until a problem directly affects someone that they seek to change the world. By then, however, it’s usually too late.
When I turned my eyes from the homeless of New York, it was because I was too selfish to do anything about the problem of homelessness. It was just so much easier to pretend it didn’t exist–that the ugliness of the world wasn’t something that could affect me. Only now that the problem has become too difficult to ignore have I fully begun to engage it. I think everyone realizes at some point that the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows–that it actually sucks. That nobody knows what they’re doing. I also think that everyone also chooses whether to immerse themselves in the misery of the world or to ignore the flaws of the world and live on in ignorance.
Today, China operates a ton of internment camps solely created for the ethnic genocide of Uighur Muslims. Because Uighur labor provides a cheap source of labor and goods, we turn a blind eye to the atrocities they commit. It’s easier to ignore the screams and bodies of Uighurs when we can plug our ears with Apple AirPods and hide their coffins underneath a pile of ten dollar t-shirts. Today, the United States continues to perform forced sterilization and hysterectomies on detained immigrants. We turn a blind eye because the image of an “illegal immigrant” is disgusting and non-human. It’s easier to accept that human rights abuses are okay if immigrants “steal our jobs” and are less than human. With each day, the number of wrongdoings grows while the voices of opposition diminish.
But that doesn’t mean that there’s no hope. As a New Yorker, I believe there’s merit in looking a stranger in the eyes. In a world where we’ve become desensitized to each other, a bit of human connection can help us find our footing. Because despite how brusque and indifferent the stereotypical New Yorker is, the history of New York is soaked with the experiences and hopes of millions of people.
In the midst of the dehumanization of entire populations, I think it’s important to realize that behind each community is a history packed with tradition and culture.
In the midst of culture wars that are dividing entire communities, I think it’s important to realize that behind each face is a person with a story.
And most importantly, in the midst of a world that seems irredeemable, I think it’s important to realize that there are also redeeming acts that make the world worth preserving.
Even if the world is full of problems, I think it’s worth confronting these problems and experiencing everything they have to offer, discomfort and all. In the face of an insurmountable number of problems, I sometimes forget that each problem can be resolved one at a time. When I look at strangers, I imagine the shops they’ve visited, the food they’ve eaten, or families they take care of. When a homeless man enters my subway car, I’ll drop a dollar into their hat. I’ll help the tourist who looks lost on the subway. Small acts of kindness may remind people that the world is worth living in, and in doing so, spur others into action. Individually, it may be impossible to change the world, but with enough motivation to preserve the world, there may yet be hope.
**If you know of any places that still sell $1 pizza, please let me know.
