I saw a woman on the train start to fiddle with her headscarf.So, the woman’s head scarf may not have been a hijab, and she may not have been a Muslim, and she may not have been self-conscious about riding the train. All of that was pure bleeding-heart fantasy from a university professor who wanted some attention online.
Confession time. In my Facebook status, I editorialised. She wasn’t sitting next to me. She was a bit away, towards the other end of the carriage. Like most people she had been looking at her phone, then slowly started to unpin her scarf.
Tears sprang to my eyes and I was struck by feelings of anger, sadness and bitterness. It was in this mindset that I punched the first status update into my phone, hoping my friends would take a moment to think about the victims of the siege who were not in the cafe.
I spent the rest of the journey staring—rudely—at the back of her uncovered head. I wanted to talk to her, but had no idea what to say. Anything that came to mind seemed tokenistic and patronising. She might not even be Muslim or she could have just been warm! Besides, I was in the “quiet carriage” where even conversation is banned.
By sheer fluke, we got off at the same station, and some part of me decided saying something would be a good thing. Rather than quiz her about her choice of clothing, I thought if I simply offered to walk her to her destination, it might help.
It’s hard to describe the moment when humans, and complete strangers, have a conversation with no words. I wanted to tell her I was sorry for so many things—for overstepping the mark, for making assumptions about a complete stranger and for belonging to a culture where racism was part of her everyday experience.
But none of those words came out, and our near silent encounter was over in a moment.
My second status was written as a heartbreaking postscript to my first. While the woman appeared to appreciate my gesture, we had both left defeated and deflated. What good is one small action against an avalanche of ignorance?
Hours later, social media showed me good people can create their own avalanche of kindness.
And boy, did she get it!
8 comments:
Lefty Profiles in Courage: Speaking truthiness to the similarly minded.
Maybe the woman felt self conscious because the professor was staring at her and dogging her every move. That solicitous gaze could be interpreted in a variety of ways. It would have been amusing if the woman had turned around and decapitated her. But that kind of stuff mostly happens in Muslim countries.
One of the aspects of Leftism is the continual expression of maudlin emotional vapid states of being. Empathy as a function of connectedness followed by either grief or anger and then posted on social media for the viral aspect to promote the cause. It's all rancid horseshit.
Liberals lie.
These tales do not work on me anymore. Not one single teeny tiny bit. The original tale is not believed. The admission of it being a tale is not believed. I usually drop off at the first signal. But this is the fourth time today I've encountered this, and now it's here, my favorite place. So I'll stick with it to show why I drop it so quickly. There are soooo many more interesting things to read and to do. Like take a shower.
Confession time. Ugh. What do I look like your Catholic confessional priest?
Facebook. Ugh. That you're there speaks volumes to asininity.
Editorialized = euphemism for I lied. Once a liar, twice a liar, three times a liar, whatev, little sister. Twisted little sister, Twisted toxic little sister.
Tears. Ugh. No you didn't. You immediately went to your reinforced bias and dreamed up a story in your head having nothing to do with reality. You projected. Tears do not spring to one's eyes, you're being dramatic. hey drain from biological duct.
Anger, sadness, bitterness -- all a result of your psychological damage. It's why you're a liberal. Nothing is happening but you must make something happen in your mind as psychologically damaged people do.
This mindset.-- you're approaching self-awareness, what do I look like, your psychoanalyst? Must this burgeoning self-analysis be done publicly? Yes, it must, because you are psychologically toxic. That is what your liberal party is for. Catch basin to your psychologically damaged type. There are millions of you.
Punched first status update to your phone. See? Your psychologic status must be broadcast. Tell us about the fuzz in your navel. Tell us about your earwax. Your hair your makeup, and most of all your emotional state, you psychological ill-being. Tell us all that bounces back and forth rattling in the vacant space between your two ears.
Look. I'm only two paragraphs in and already I'm boring the piss out of myself. Know what's more interesting than following this woman's tragic psychology? Sorting my spare bedroom, that's what. The place is a mess almost as bad as her psychology. I drag things out but don't put them bac. They accumulate out of place. I need to clear it all out. Goodbye and do have a good day. ISAIDGOODDAY !
Catch basin to your psychologically damaged type."
LOL!!! Ah'm a stealin' that!
Methadras said ....
Empathy as a function of connectedness followed by either grief or anger and then posted on social media for the viral aspect to promote the cause. It's all rancid horseshit.
Annnd...it is all intentional to repeat a meme. Godwin alert! Herr Goebels did it best.
then slowly started to unpin her scarf.
Tears sprang to my eyes and I was struck by feelings of anger, sadness and bitterness.
Notes: A Muslim woman will not take her headscarf off in public.
The fabricator had tears spring to her eyes because someone took off her scarf?
Or because they felt bad that this woman wore a scarf? And that is sooo gauche.
Was it ugly?
What good is one small action against an avalanche of ignorance?
The only evidence I see of ignorance in this piece is the fabricator's ignorance. And bigotry.
... racism was part of her everyday experience.
Where is the racism in this account?here? The fabricator created her own little bit of it right here.
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