Last year I overcame a common fear in New Jersey: smiling at strangers. Living in this less than cordial state my entire life, I had acquired an aversion to acknowledging human beings. In high school, I shuffled through crowded hallways and lunch lines with my head down, dodging unnecessary eye contact. During my first year of college, I carried myself around campus in a similarly withdrawn manner. Even though I spent about twenty-five hours per week at Montclair State, I saw my time between classes as little more than a blur of faces to make my way through until the late afternoon when I took the shuttle bus back to my car.
Passing through the student center one day, I noticed a flyer advertising a coffeehouse happening in an on-campus cafe later that night. Instead of ending the day unremarkably, I pushed myself to go. A few hours later I walked into Café Diem where there was a crowd gathered around a student reading their poetry. I took an empty seat and observed the group.
Most performances were obviously rehearsed, but some also were impromptu. One guy just got up and passionately sang about cows. But no matter how wacky or serious the content was, everyone was attentive and respectful to each other. After about an hour of performances, the crowd began to disperse. I was about to leave when one of the girls hosting the event approached me. She smiled, gave me a hug, and thanked me for coming. Expecting to dip out of the café without a word, I was mildly shocked by her kindness.
After that night, I found myself experimenting with opening up in small ways. While I didn’t hug everyone that crossed my path, I at least paid mind more than the dirty sidewalk under my feet. Instead of fiddling with my phone as I passed someone, I peeled my head up from the ground and smiled. To my surprise, they smiled back. At Dunkin Donuts, I made sure to sincerely thank the person who took my order. Appreciation showed in their eyes. I even started giving my mom more hugs.
Opening up in even the simplest ways was difficult at first. Even brief eye contact felt disarming. That stranger’s reciprocated smile spurred a complete change in perspective. Of course, everyone has different social boundaries that need to be respected. Ogling and cat-calling anyone is completely gross. And please try not to talk to people on the bus with blaring headphones unless they’re listening to that song “Animals” by Maroon 5, because it’s also gross. A gentle smile is all that’s needed to make a connection, whether fleeting or lasting.
Jackie Dorey