Still dressed up: Greeting unknown humans with stubborn positivity

I was waiting my turn at the check-in desk at the chiropractor’s office on Samhain (that’s the day after Halloween for non-Pagans). I can’t see much with my funky eyes, so I don’t know precisely how it happened—whether the receptionist glanced at me or what—but the person ahead of me turned around, looked me up and down in an exaggerated way that even I could see, did a dramatic physical double-take and declared in a negative tone, “Watch out! She’s still dressed up!”

I was a bit taken aback and befuddled, so all I managed was to mumble, “I’m not actually dressed up.” The lady turned back around and ignored me, finished her business and left.

Image via Pixabay - Image of a woman’s face covered with colorful paint

When I shared this experience, a lot of my friends expressed shock and outrage or said I should have made a witty comeback. I wish I was that quick on my feet and I could think of several afterwards, ranging from, “Well, at least my costume doesn’t impede my ability to be polite!” to “I’m so glad you noticed!” with a little faux preening. But unfortunately, past social trauma makes me go into deer-in-the-headlights freeze mode when things like this happen out of the blue.

So, my witty comebacks are usually all for naught. And the truth is I wasn’t that upset about the comment itself. Afterwards, I could certainly see the argument of several friends that it is never okay to randomly comment on a stranger’s appearance. That really is social skills 101.

But I can’t help pondering more deeply. I was clean and had street clothes on. I was wearing a head scarf of no particular cultural background. I wear them as a personal reminder of oaths to my gods, so it is a bit of a religious head covering, but frankly, I also wear it because I have bald spots that often show, despite having long hair.

I was also wearing a colorful tunic and a long black sweater over it that could have been mistaken for a very vague imitation of something out of Harry Potter. And of course, I was carrying a white cane.

So, more than a witty response, I wish I’d asked, “What part makes you think it’s a costume? Really. Just curious.”

Was it the colorful headscarf and shirt which only sort of matched because they used the same color combination but in different patterns? Was it the black leggings and sweater? Or was it the white cane?

I did see a meme about a pilot dressing up as a blind person, using a white cane as he boarded the plane and entered the cockpit in front of passengers. I’ve got to say that I hope that wasn’t why she thought I was in costume, because that’s not okay. If dressing up as Pocahontas isn’t okay, then dressing up as a blind person isn’t either. The same type of disrespect is involved.

If it was either of the other two or a combination… Well, I guess that would imply a bit of small-town thinking on the part of my fellow sufferer of back pain. But I expect my getup would not have generated much comment in a larger city, even if manners didn’t censor most people’s impulses. I have certainly dressed in more flamboyant things and rarely get a comment.

Maybe that’s just because my outfits are considered so outlandish that it’s awkward to mention it. And really, since I’m not applying for a job, that’s okay. I try to tone it down a little when I go to advocate for my child’s special education needs, but otherwise those who dislike my free-spirited, definitely-not-up-to-date fashion sense too intensely are welcome to weed themselves out of my overly chaotic life.

The truth is I’m just tired of trying to please people all the time, especially when it appears to have no effect on anything. I know that I have some disadvantages in social stuff by being visually impaired. I can’t make eye contact. I can’t recognize people. I can’t smile and wave at acquaintances.

That all creates a lot of awkwardness, some hard feelings and misunderstandings at times and so forth. But I make sure to tell people this. And I smile a lot. I devote a lot of time and attention to making sure sighted people will feel comfortable with my expression and hedging my bets on whether or not I know them, as well as when and how to ask them to let me know who they are in a sensitive way.

An unflattering selfie of me to show what I was really wearing at the chiropractor’s office

But mostly I just try to be friendly and positive. With all the bureaucratic, medical and special education stuff my kids and I have been dealing with I have to see and interact with a wide variety of people every day, many of them strangers and many of them acquaintances who have seen me a few times. I smile and do small talk when appropriate. I I give complements whenever I can find a way that isn’t awkward. I may be frustrated with their whole bureaucracy, but I still smile and compliment the person in front of me.

And yet, the responses I get from people are so often negative. There are a few exceptions, but they aren’t friends. They’re just people who are polite and friendly back at me. And they are definitely a small minority, one in ten or so.

Some days I do worry that this is all because of me. Is the negativity of my circumstances so intense, that no matter how much positivity I put out, it hangs on me like a stench? Are my clothing or grooming choices truly just beyond the pale? Are my eyes and lack of eye contact so disconcerting that most people can’t get past it, despite gentle reminders that I’m not doing it on purpose?

All that wondering leads to a lot of anxiety and self-doubt. But I remind myself daily that it also leads to naval gazing and self-focus. The truth is that people are mostly wrapped up in their own troubles and likely not paying that much attention to me (or anyone else).

But that leads me to the final option for why I run into so much negativity on a daily basis. If it isn’t me but I’m still encountering negativity constantly, then it’s just out there and everyone is suffering from it. That may be a psychologically healthier way to look at it, but it’s also way more disturbing.

With the crises of climate change, war and so much trouble in the world, I could wish the negativity was due to something simple like my fashion choices. If it is true that the world is just full of so much resentment and isolation that everyone is experiencing what I’m experiencing from others, we’re in bigger trouble than I ever imagined as a young activist for positive changes in the world.

How do we stand a chance at ending wars or reversing environmental destruction, if friends rarely meet in person, people don’t form new friendships beyond school, people look at strangers with judgement and resentment first and a circle of trusted friends or family is a rare luxury that few experience?

I fear that this is the real reason for the social isolation I experience and for much of the big troubles of our world. As much as I was frustrated with older people who said things like this when I was a young activist, because I wanted big changes first. I see now that we will never manage any lasting or worthwhile big changes until people make changes in their spirit and how the relate in community.

I can tell you from the experience of someone who could never see other people’s faces so the world is eternally full of probable strangers, that it is hard to keep smiling kindly, keep greeting people with generosity, keep open the belief that the next vague unknown form you meet may be a dear friend. It’s hard but necessary. When sighted people—when enough of everyone—starts greeting the world the way well-adjusted blind people greet the world, maybe, just maybe, we’ll have a chance of solving some big problems.