How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world. ~Anne Frank
For over a decade, I lived in Chicago.
Which means that, as most Chicagoans do, I had a strong relationship with the train (AKA the “el,” which is short for “elevated”). Every day I would take the train to work, and home from work, and basically anywhere else I wanted to go.
And almost every morning I’d face the same problem.
The train would come (finally!) and I’d stand patiently at the precise spot where I knew the doors would open. The cars would slow … then stop … and the gray metal doors would open…
To reveal a nearly solid wall of arms and legs and smushed faces that were expertly looking everywhere but at each other.
Or at me.
But when I’d peer over them and look to the aisle in the middle of the train, more often than not, it would be empty.
Or, at least, empty enough that a small-ish woman could squeeze herself sideways and make it to work on time.
So, seeing plenty of space in the middle of the train, I’d point behind the wall of arms and legs and shout out “move in! Please move in! There’s room in the middle – see? Look – please move in!” But those fellow smushed commuters would stand right where they were like little lost sheep, blank expressions and “who, me?” looks until the doors closed.
And there I’d be, still standing on the platform. Waiting for the next train, completely exasperated.
That is, until one day when I decided to do something a wee bit different.
I singled one of them out.
Rather than shouting out to the whole car, I called the attention of one person – speaking directly to her until she looked in my direction.
“Excuse me – ma’am? Excuse me – can you just step aside so I can go to the middle of the car? I just need to get past.” I asked.
“Oh, yeah – sure,” she replied.
And just like that, I cracked the code.
When I’d ask everyone on the train to move in, nobody would budge.
When I’d ask an individual person to move, at least 75% of the time they would – and if they didn’t, the person next to them would move for them as a sort of apology for the rudeness of the person who wouldn’t comply.
Interesting, right?
As you can imagine, I’m not telling you that story to give you ideas on how to better manage public transportation (though you should try that trick if you’re ever faced with the overly-smushed doorway problem).
I’m telling you because the lessons I learned on the train are helpful right now within the Resistance movement.
See, those people on the train weren’t bad-natured. They just figured everyone else around them mattered more than they did. At least, until I called them out individually – and in doing so, showed them that by moving they would make a difference.
It’s just hard to believe that the little space that you occupy matters so much to someone else. It’s hard to believe that if you move your leg or your arm, or if you turn yourself just so, that you’ll be able to change someone else’s day.
It’s easier to look at the person to your side and think they matter more, so they should be the one to move. So you wait for them to do something.
Until the door closes.
It’s a very similar predicament that we’re facing now within our democratic organizations.
Especially with the GOP’s sustained shock and awe campaign, it’s been hard for some folks to continue to believe that they matter. Maybe you, too. It can be hard to hold onto the idea that your call, your attendance, your participation, your voice, your vote has the potential to change the world around you.
So when someone shouts generally in your direction, it’s really easy to just assume they’re talking to someone else.
It’s easy to excuse yourself when you don’t matter.
But you do matter.
And so do the people to your left and your right – your fellow sisters (and brothers) in arms, whether you are their leader or a fellow activist.
So when you see the call go out for someone to take action, remind yourself that they’re talking to you.
And when you’re the one asking for action and when shouting out to the masses doesn’t work – when asking everyone in the train to move fails to make a dent in the wall of arms and legs – then think about what you/your group can do to call to people individually.
What can we do to look each person in the eye, and ask them to make room?
Let’s get to work.
Great observation; great point! You portray a healthy, practical midwestern point of view. Thank you.