I never know how to react to tissue sellers, especially the old indian woman at the traffic junction opposite Heeren, a certain old man at the bus interchange near my place who sits on this green mat with all sorts of weird stuff displayed in front of him and some beggars one occasionally sees along the street.
Its even worse when they're old.
Maybe because they seem so out of place. And maybe because I come across them so rarely that once confronted by them, I'm always at a loss as to what to do or how to feel. Or maybe its because I've been told so many times not to give them money.
Most of the time, people would look at them, pitying them. Or walk away, eyes down, pretending that they've just seen something gross.
I don't like either reaction. Pitying them always makes them seem as though they're lesser beings. Like they lack humanity. Like they are poor unfortunate souls.
On the other hand, pretending not to see them is our way with dealing with people/things that don't belong in our world, people/things that we don't encounter in our own lives, the denial that they are part of our society.
But the problem is that they DO exist, and they're very much part of your world and mine. How do we turn a blind eye to their suffering? How can we?
I don't think that selling tissue/begging is their idea of a good career, and I don't think that they CHOSE to do this. They probably can't find jobs, or they don't have children to support them...
Watching them makes me feel sad. How lonely they must be. How tired they must be.
Yet, who am I to judge? They may be happy, contented individuals under that destitute exterior. They may be satisfied with their way of life. Until someone like me casts them a pitying eye. Until someone like me patronizes them, and sees them as pathetic creatures.
Sigh. I don't know how to react to them. Probably never will, unless I were to become one of them. When I have mats of my own to unfold, when I have packets of tissue to sell irate food centre patrons, and big red plastic bags of junk to drag around.
Its even worse when they're old.
Maybe because they seem so out of place. And maybe because I come across them so rarely that once confronted by them, I'm always at a loss as to what to do or how to feel. Or maybe its because I've been told so many times not to give them money.
Most of the time, people would look at them, pitying them. Or walk away, eyes down, pretending that they've just seen something gross.
I don't like either reaction. Pitying them always makes them seem as though they're lesser beings. Like they lack humanity. Like they are poor unfortunate souls.
On the other hand, pretending not to see them is our way with dealing with people/things that don't belong in our world, people/things that we don't encounter in our own lives, the denial that they are part of our society.
But the problem is that they DO exist, and they're very much part of your world and mine. How do we turn a blind eye to their suffering? How can we?
I don't think that selling tissue/begging is their idea of a good career, and I don't think that they CHOSE to do this. They probably can't find jobs, or they don't have children to support them...
Watching them makes me feel sad. How lonely they must be. How tired they must be.
Yet, who am I to judge? They may be happy, contented individuals under that destitute exterior. They may be satisfied with their way of life. Until someone like me casts them a pitying eye. Until someone like me patronizes them, and sees them as pathetic creatures.
Sigh. I don't know how to react to them. Probably never will, unless I were to become one of them. When I have mats of my own to unfold, when I have packets of tissue to sell irate food centre patrons, and big red plastic bags of junk to drag around.
posted by elysa at 7:13 AM
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