Culture Is the Accumulation of Tiny Acts

Our culture is the accumulation of tiny acts of kindness or cruelty, generosity or selfishness, grace or hate.

It was maybe 15 years ago, and my memory of some of the details are vague, while others are vivid because it was unusual and in its own way a bit extraordinary. It began as just an average day working at the library. I was at the Kids desk. A young woman holding a child on her hip, maybe a year, maybe a bit older, was using the checkout station.

Suddenly, there was yelling. A young man came storming through the doors. "There you are! What the fuck are you doing? I told you not to leave the house!" Something like that. He stalked up to her, got in her face, shouting the whole time. "Get your fucking ass back home!" Etcetera. He started shoving her toward the door.

Two thoughts quickly crossed my mind: This can't be allowed to happen, especially not here at the library. And: Oh, I'm the responsible party for making sure this doesn't happen here. It's my responsibility to do something. As I got up from my seat and headed their direction, I crossed paths with a like-minded colleague from the Adult desk. "Call 911," she started, then, "no, you go; I'll call 911."

I caught up to them near the door, only about 10 yards from where we'd all started. The mom was shielding the child from the man by turning that side of her body away from him; but that meant the child was getting smashed into the wall as he shoved. I had no thoughts of what to do, just followed my instincts. I stepped in between the two of them, faced him, and said, "You can keep talking to her from there if you need to, but you're not going to touch her again while you're at this library."

As I said it, I thought, I should take my glasses off, because I'm about to get punched. My heart was pounding, adrenaline racing, my one thought to be a human shield protecting her, fully expecting him to physically assault me in some way to get at her. Only he didn't. His anger was limited to her and he was able to stay rational enough to keep his focus on just her. He tried to look over one of my shoulders, then the other. Made the starts of movements to reach around me, stopped each. He sputtered and raged some, said it was between the two of them. I reiterated that he could talk to her, but he couldn't touch her.

His back was to the exit, my back to the rest of the library. I became mildly aware of others standing on each side of me. The standoff continued for what felt to me like a long time but I'm sure was just a matter of seconds. Eventually, he said he needed something from her before he could leave and reached out for it. The thing (keys? glasses? I can't remember) was handed over, and he stormed out of the building.

The police arrived not long after and managed to catch up to him still walking a few blocks away. Everything gradually calmed down. The mom and I both filed police reports. Normalcy returned.

But the moment that sticks with me, the bit that I find most extraordinary, was when the man reached out for that thing right before leaving. For the first time during the encounter, my focus wasn't exclusively on him and I became more aware of our surroundings.

I had noticed people beside me in my peripheral vision. But only when I turned my head to the side to watch the hands exchange the object did I realize that I was not a human shield by myself; I was the middle of a human wall. 10-15 other people had joined me, most of them random library patrons who saw what I was doing and followed my lead.

I don't know if they were already headed that direction to do something but I arrived first, if they saw what I was doing and their support trickled in over the course of the encounter, or if it was some mix of both since I was oblivious to all of it until that moment. Regardless of how or when they arrived, though, they followed my lead. I didn't know it was happening, but I directed--maybe inspired--their actions.

It's a touchstone moment for me, especially in moments where I'm feeling misanthropic and down about human rottenness. Sometimes random strangers band together to do good things, too. And when I write things like my last post, Resistance Is Contagious, with all of its academic research and long book excerpts and deep analytical news articles saying things like, What people think, feel, and do is influenced, often to a startling degree, by what they believe everyone else is thinking, feeling, and doing, I'm not merely writing in theoretical, abstract, potential terms. It really happens.

A poem.

The Word of the Day Is Widdershins

Jennifer Blackledge

which sounds fun and elfin, like that

dance that leprechauns do, hobnail boots

clicking with glee or maybe something a

confused rabbit in coattails might say

when he’s lost his way: Aw, widdershins,

as he lights his adorable pipe and

adjusts his widdle wireframe glasses but

 

like everything lately that arrives in my inbox

or crosses my screen it’s not cute at all,

just a twee way to say backwards, not right:

in a direction contrary to the sun’s course,

considered unlucky; counterclockwise like

 

every day of this cursed year.

I want it to be a magic word I can say three times

and focus my rage to reset the course:

widdershins, widdershins, widdershins but

 

all it summons is my neighbor saying

come on, it was just a Roman salute or a video

of the ladies I used to see at school dropoff or

softball games singing God Bless America in

red-white-and-blue shirts and hats that ends

with their right arms in the air, giggling and

 

yet another think piece that asks mildly if we really

saw what we saw: that arm raised like a dark minute hand

that drags us fucking widdershins,

down into a warren we dug so long ago

we forgot how deep it ran beneath us.

from Poets Respond

Everything lately is widdershins, indeed.

(How does my browser's built-in dictionary not know the word widdershins?)

A Facebook post from Homeless Training by Ryan Dowd:

Think about the last time you took a moment to be kind…

Maybe someone dropped papers, and you helped them pick them up.

Maybe you held the door for someone.

Maybe you offered an encouraging word to someone who was struggling.

According to research from the University of California, San Diego and Harvard, the kindness likely didn’t stop there.

It “rippled” out into the very fabric of humanity.

Apparently, our actions have consequences through three degrees of separation:

You show kindness to Abe.

Because of that interaction…

Abe shows kindness to Barb.

Because of that interaction…

Barb shows kindness to Carol.

Because of that interaction…

Carol shows kindness to Dan.

According to the research, that is as far as it goes. (I’m not sure why Dan was the jerk to breaks the chain…)

But think about it:

You engaged in one simple act of kindness…

But it impacted Barb, Carol and Dan…

…people you might never meet!

So what?

We are waiting for politicians or celebrities to change the world in some big grand gesture.

That isn’t how humanity works.

Our culture is the accumulation of tiny acts of kindness or cruelty, generosity or selfishness, grace or hate.

So, find a way today to spread a little ripple of kindness through the fabric of humanity!

Peace,

Ryan

(I've previously blogged about his source for "three degrees of separation," Christakis and Fowler, in I Resolve to Be a More Positive Influence on my Networks and You Have Three Degrees of Influence, among others.)

Find a way today to spread a little ripple of kindness through the fabric of humanity.