Crying In Public & The Need To Be Seen
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In my post yesterday, I did something a bit unfair. Maybe you noticed. Maybe you didn’t.
I wrote about how I was walking along the city streets near Toddler’s school when I read an article on my phone that stirred something – a creative spark, an existential flame, a flicker of rejuvenation. Those of you who read closely – or who are just curious – might have noticed that I neither linked to that article nor mentioned the name of it. This was not an oversight on my part; It could very well have been an example of Mommy Brain, but this time it wasn’t. It was intentional. That post? It was not so much about the words I read, but about the feeling they caused in me. A feeling for which I am more than thankful because here I am blogging again, sending bits of self into this odd and exquisite ether we have come to call the Blogosphere.
But today? Today I will mention the article. It’s from the New York Times and called Look at Me, I’m Crying. In it, author and New York-based writing professor Melissa Febos explores, exquisitely in my estimation, the phenomenon of public crying in the specific context of Manhattan. She confesses that she herself has cried many times in public and that there is perhaps something about this particular urban jungle – with its concomitant paucity of space and traditional privacy – that goes hand in hand with breaking down in public spaces.
The article spoke to me on many levels – of style, of content, of vulnerability. Reading it, I remembered the last time I cried in public. It wasn’t too long ago. It was a very rainy evening and I was on my way to get a manicure. I made a quick call on my cell. The call was meant to be short and simple. But something happened, a rush of emotion, a rapid unraveling, and there I was, suddenly in a tempest of tears, thick and violent tears, on a street corner. I wonder what people thought of me – a very pregnant ponytailed girl huddled under a broken umbrella sobbing uncontrollably in front of a Starbucks. In retrospect, I realize that many people saw me, they must have, but no one stopped to ask me if I was okay.
That’s New York for you. That’s one of the many things I love about this place.
It seems that Febos and I are in agreement on this. She, like me, falls into the camp of people who do not want to be asked what’s wrong in a situation like this. Febos writes,
For me, it’s not that I want apathy, just privacy. To be noticed, but not interrupted. It’s comforting to be seen in our grief, there is a confirmation in it — however awkward it makes us feel. Is that part of why we live here? New Yorkers do tend to be the kind of people with both a need to be seen, and a deep fear of it. Somehow, this place satisfies both.
Yes! I am the kind of person who needs to be seen, but who is also immensely fearful of this very thing. Isn’t that why I blog? To be seen in my iterations of insecurity and grief and utter humanness? But isn’t blogging also evidence of a true desire to hide a bit, too? If we really wanted to be seen, to shine a light on ourselves however cracked those selves might be, would we really duck behind a screen to do so?
Here, in this city, I am somehow able to be seen for who it is I am and hide who it is I am.
Here, on this blog, I am somehow able to be seen for who it is I am and hide who it is I am.
Ultimately, I’m not really sure what this post is about. Is it really about literary inspiration? Is it really about crying in public? Is it really about New York neuroses? I’m not so sure, but that’s okay. What I do know is that these words are about me and part of me, a creature ever-confused and ever-curious. A creature who has cried in the rain and written through her pain. A creature who wants to be noticed and is deeply afraid of being seen.
Yes, these words are about me. A creature who is happy to be back here in this place, this little corner soaked in life’s abundant rain, thinking and asking. And trying. Always trying. To see. To know. To understand. To make sense of it all.
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Have you ever cried in public? Did people ask if you were okay? Did you want them to? What do you do when you see a stranger crying? Do you blog or write out of a need to be seen and/or a fear of being seen? Do you ever write something without knowing what it is really about?
I think I agree with the unconscious desire to be observed but (the conscious desire to) not be interrupted. There is something oddly human about being that emotional, but the world continuing to go on around you, having other people see you maybe normalizes even your extreme emotions in a way. Where I live now, people would probably stare at someone crying in the street, maybe comment. Asking somebody they’re ok in that situation doesn’t make any sense- obviously they’re not, but what are they going to do, tell you their whole life story about it? In this situation, to me, “are you ok” would sound more like “keep it down, take care of this in private.”
Wow! Great post! You really got me thinking!! I try not to ever cry in public. But I did have a mim-meltdown once, and a woman asked me if I was ok. I didn’t mind because she was so sweet. But I would rather cry in peace. I live outside DC and the mentality is kind of like NYC. I was surprised that woman asked me if I was ok.
I like to be “seen” but I do not like “attention”. I am a very private person and I do not “share” everything that goes on in my life. Sometime I wish I could be more open, but I think this is just the way that I am wired.
I must admit though, even though I do not like attention, if I saw a pregnant woman crying on the street, I would probably ask her if there was anything I could do to help. I know the hormones are raging and that could be why a preggo woman is crying, I have never cried so much as I have now that I am pregnant. But I would want to make sure the woman didn’t need help somehow.
I could go on and on about this!!!
How did I miss your post yesterday?? I will have to go back and find it!!
Hope you and baby are doing fantastic!!!!
Another great post! However, I think that when we see someone having a bit of a melt down, we unconsciously assess the situation and deem whether or not we should approach the person.
The only time I cried in public was when my father died and I had to do food shopping. The only person who asked if I was ok, was the cashier, not that I wanted everyone to notice me and if she hadn’t asked it would not have mattered. I know that I just needed that moment to release that emotion.
A few weeks ago I looked out my window and saw a girl sitting on a log at the edge of the forested parkland behind my home. It was raining.
She had no umbrella, no rain coat, nothing. She sat there for 30 minutes, crying, holding her in her hands, anxiously looking up, expecting someone to come after her I think.
I was inside, warm, cleaning my toilets with my lovely little girls downstairs drawing or breaking something. I wanted to go to her, but I remember being like that myself.
It was a beautiful moment of sadness, one that I really didn’t want anyone to see or interrupt. I watched her for a long time and was almost sad when I looked up and she was gone.
I think this is a uniquely big-city phenomenon. While I have cried in public, and am not afraid to do so, it’s not a regular part of life in the Midwest. Nevertheless, I think what I would want in this situation – and what I would try to offer to other people – is much like what the author describes: no words or inquiries, but a warm and knowing expression that conveys some sort of kindness and solidarity.
Great questions, Aidan. And I agree that blogging is all about wanting to be seen and fearing it at the same time. In some ways we are afforded intimacy by writing our words on the screen, and yet we are also afforded distance. I haven’t had the experience of crying in public for a long time, maybe because I now live in a city where I am more often in my car than wedged in between people who might otherwise witness my tears.
I was so wondering what the article was about!!!! Ok, now I can move on to other things.
Hmmmm. I agree that I most likely would break down in public if I needed to, but I also most likely would not want to be asked what was wrong. Interesting dichotomy. As for blogging. I love being “seen” in my writing and am fearless in being completely open to strangers. I intensely dislike people I know in real life reading my words or knowing these intimacies. It’s strange, this desire to be heard and yet wanting to keep it hidden from those that know me best. For me, it’s not so much that I mind that they know, it’s that it stops me from writing the real stuff. I call it “page fright” and I’m working on a post about how to get over it.
Just the other day I was sitting at an outdoor cafe and a young woman was in tears, sobbing on the sidewalk. I felt sadness and compassion but I could not interrupt. I did not know this woman and to have such sorrow must be very personal. Now, if it was a pregnant woman, I might just ask out of concern that she physically was okay!
I’ve wondered too about blogging and being seen. I am careful about what I post and suspect that most others are as well. It is a virtual veil.
I don’t think that I have cried in public in about 35 years or so. That is something that is forbidden to boys and men.
If we really wanted to be seen, to shine a light on ourselves however cracked those selves might be, would we really duck behind a screen to do so?
I think that in many ways blogging is the ultimate tool for showing who we are. Even though we may not share everything there is quite a bit that comes out without our realizing it.
I am about to show the extent of my TV watching and say this reminds me of the ABC show “What Would You Do” if that’s the actual title. I think many people choose not to approach a crying person. I think if they thought you were in danger this would be different. Crying in NYC is no different than all the people walking down the street talking to themselves or screaming or all the other crazy “normal” things we do.
I agree with you: I definitely blog because I want to be seen without really being seen. I want to be heard but not seen is what I frequently refer to it as. I am a very shy person. I like to hide pieces of myself, protect myself. This has made it very difficult for me to trust other people. I have cried in public and would have been utterly horrified if someone stopped and asked me if I was okay. But whenever I see someone else crying in public my heart throbs a bit and i almost want to go and ask but then I tell myself it is not my place. Maybe they just want to be alone … if they wanted someone there with them they would have called a friend or something. I am intrigued by this topic but I too cannot really come to any sort of conclusion about what I think about it.