Afraid
Recent acts of violence make me wonder what the world would be like if we didn’t fear each other.
The spring before my daughter was going to middle school, I took her to a guitar audition that would determine what level guitar class she would be assigned as a sixth grader.
Up until that point, she had been at a charming neighborhood school for six years with 1,000 relatively innocent kids. Here she was walking into a school that housed over 1,600 tweens and teens.
As we approached the school, class had ended for the day and there were 15 to 20 kids sitting on the steps, taking up the space to the front door where we needed to enter the building for the audition.
These kids were probably 8th graders, looking back. They were loud and laughing and flirting with each other. They were smacking each other with their sweatshirts and gawking at their phones. They had the confidence of kids that were at the top of the social ladder. No 5th grader I know would have felt comfortable parting the waters of their presence.
It’s pretty rare to see my daughter flustered, even as a toddler or 3rd grader, or even at her current age. She is nothing if not poised, and she does a most excellent job hiding her real feelings in uncomfortable situations.
She wasn’t visibly flustered, but as her mom, I could see the change in her breathing and feel the terror deep within as she looked at our path through these teenagers.
I admit that these kids were slightly intimidating to me, as well, but working as a pediatrician has forced me to push through my own social anxiety. Almost weekly, I walk into a room containing a family I don’t know and can immediately feel they don’t trust me. Sometimes I know I’m going to have to work hard for people’s trust.
My daughter clutched her guitar to her side and walked a little closer to me. I could tell she was looking at the ramp and wanting to walk an alternate route instead of through the teens. But of course, I wanted to show her she could chin-up, shoulders-back walk through the crowd.
“Excuse me,” I said, nearly stepping on a backpack and tripping over a lunchbox. The kids stopped their horseplay and moved to the side. “Sorry, ma’am,” they said, getting out of our way.
I decided to use a tactic that I use at work to help my daughter get over her fear. It seems simple, but looking someone in the eye and speaking to them, asking them questions, always humanizes a person to me, making them more approachable.
I knew where the guitar audition was. But I asked the teens instead. “We’re here for a guitar audition. Anyone know where we go?”
Two teen boys jumped up off the steps and held the door open for us. “Go past the office and turn right. It’ll be on the left with the sign ‘auditorium.’”
“Thanks so much,” I said.
“I’ll take you there,” another girl said. About 5 foot 6 inches, the loudest of the group, and puberty-certified, I couldn’t believe in only three years, this would be my daughter as an eighth grader. “Hold my stuff,” she yelled back to her friend as she walked in the door with us.
We walked past the office and turned right, and she walked us into the auditorium. She politely introduced my daughter and me to the guitar teacher. As she left, she looked my daughter in the eye. “Good luck on your audition!” She smiled, flipped her hair, and strutted confidently back down the hallway.
This week I have read and watched and cried over the people who have been injured or killed in our country. I know some of the deaths are due to conflict or anger, but it seems that some are simply due to fear – one person fearing another without knowing a single thing about them except that they’re in an unexpected place.
My 16-year-old could easily ring the wrong doorbell going to pick up his little brother. My 18-year-old could easily pull into the wrong driveway to turn her car around. My 13-year-old’s basketball has bounced into someone else’s yard. I myself have gotten into the wrong unlocked car in a parking lot before realizing the car wasn’t mine. None of these is a justifiable reason to be shot.
Of course there are criminals in the world. Of course there are people I pass in the city that make me want to avoid by crossing the street. There are reasons I want my kids driving well-lit roads with lots of people on them. I’m not saying I would strike up a conversation with everyone.
But for the vast majority of us just living our lives, we have to do better to not fear each other. I wish for us as a society to be less reactive and more pensive. I wish for us to give each other a chance before lashing out. Maybe we can start by humanizing each other with a simple “hello” or “how’s it going?”
I wrote this piece while I was waiting for my oil to be changed. After I paid and walked out to the parking lot, I noticed a car next to mine with a bunch of aggressive, angry bumper stickers.
Instead of wondering if I could find common ground with the driver, I got in my car, avoiding and fearing the man inside. Immediately after writing this, I behaved this way, thus proving to myself that the work of introspection and finding comon ground is never complete. However, all I can do is to keep working on it, and I will try to teach my kids to do the same.
The advice and opinions herein are by no means meant to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Please contact your personal physician, mental health provider or health care professional for medical advice. Opinions are my own.