Recently I found myself sitting by a window looking out on the pedestrian parade walking by on the sidewalk outside. I was not in a big city like New York or San Francisco or Chicago, but a metropolitan area none-the-less. I realized that the variety of the passing pedestrians was not what it had been in my youth. First there was what one would expect ---- various people dressed in shorts or summer dresses for it was a hot day. But then a very queenly black woman walked by in bright sarong affair with the most beautiful and complicated head dress crowning her outfit. A few minutes later another woman walked by in a very fashionable pantsuit with a hijab that matched the color of her ensemble. There were baggy jeans worn low on the hips and held up only by a hope and a prayer, and the ubiquitous black stretch pants on every other woman. Baseball hats were worn by both sexes with the visor in front or just as often turned to the back. The hair on these pedestrians ranged from short to long in all different colors and styles – just as often short on women and long on men with complicated braids, dreadlocks, and upswept curls.
I thought back to my childhood in the fifties, remembering a day I was riding on the streetcar with my grandmother on the way to visit the Smithsonian Museum in downtown Washington DC. A group of young sailors was on the on the same car, obviously sightseeing for the day. As we approached the center of town, the streetcar made a stop, the doors opened, and onto the bus came a black man dressed in a bright blue gown that swept to the floor. His head was covered in an elaborately tied material of the same bright color. He was striking to say the least. I heard a noise and looked over at one of the young sailors who looked like a cartoon version of shock: his mouth was agape, and he was silently mouthing ‘Oh, my God.’
As I think back to that day, I know that young sailor was not necessarily racist, or mean, or critical. He had probably just come from an area where such sights were not only not common, but more to the point, never seen. He was out in the world and the world had taken him by surprise. For those of us who lived in or near the nation’s capital, home of embassies from around the world, while such sights were unusual they did not cause us the shock that this young man felt.
Perhaps it is always more comfortable to live in a world where everyone wears the same recognizable things, where there is a strict distinction between male and female, and there are no surprises. On the other hand, perhaps we need to be jolted out of our complacencies to understand that there are many different ways, other than ours, to live a life. While at times this can be difficult, it can bring great growth and freedom.