Do you feel like you just don’t know what to say to someone like me? Do you feel like you aren’t sure you’re doing the right thing when you encounter someone who is different? I can help.
Sometimes when I’m out and about, people do things that make me and my family really uncomfortable. They stare. I am a strong, confident woman, but nobody, nobody enjoys people staring at them because they are not like you. There are a few different types of stares. The worst is the Curse of the Never-Ending Stare. Temporarily they lose their minds and all social skills, and they stare at me. They have forgotten their manners, how to close their mouths, and the art of blinking. They are chewing their food and staring. Their friend or wife is talking to them and they cannot force themselves to look away. Even when they trip over something or poke their face with their food-laden fork, they only break eye-contact momentarily in panic, but then, like a magnet, they are drawn back to me and they continue staring. They are mesmerized. They are captivated. They are staring and they are good at it. Resistance is futile. As their wife takes their hand and leads them gently from the store, they stare until the last possible moment, never blinking, not once.
Another kind of staring is almost as bad. The person staring is much more aware of their surroundings and their manners, but they still want to stare at me. So, feeling conflicted, they commence a movement not unlike that of a spectator at a Ping-Pong World Championship Tournament. It goes something like this: look down at plate, stab some steak, stare intensely at the bald chick in the hat. Look at husband who is talking about politics, nod so he knows he's heard, stare at the bald chick in the hat. Flag a waitress, bald chick, smile at waitress, bald chick, more iced tea please, bald chick, thank you (smile), bald chick, nods at husband, bald chick, looks back at plate, bald chick, puts food in mouth, bald chick, wipes mouth with napkin, bald chick.
Then there are the people who deliberately do not stare. They smile politely at ME, not at my hat or my wig, but at my actual face and then when I get 4 inches past them, they give their best friend the biggest “OMG” expression. They point, raise their eyebrows, cover their mouths, shake their heads and pull the corners of their mouths towards their ears as though they are saying, “yikes!” It’s so exciting! That’s when they remember the cozy boutique we are in is full of mirrors. Yes. I see you. Embarrassing, huh?
I’ve been laughed at by teenagers, what ev’s. I’ve had children say, “Where’s your hair?” I like that. I told one kid it went on vacation…to Legoland. He thought that was awesome (he got to go last summer). One kid asked me why I wore that hat and I told him I don’t have any hair because I have Alopecia. His sister said that a girl in her class has Alopecia and it’s like she’s allergic to her hair but it’s nothing bad AND if you’re pretty you can pull it off! I know kids can be cruel (I remember it well), but to be honest, adults are worse. Kids ask because they don’t know and then usually they will try to comfort you in some way or tell you that you still look pretty. Adults are more likely to make it all about them. They don’t seem to care about your feelings. They’re too busy feeling their own feelings.
Then there are the cancer survivors. You see...I look like I’m sick. I know that. I put on make-up, I’m very active, I wear cute hats and pretty wigs, and yet, no hair = sick. Even when they ask, “Are you going through treatments?” and I say, “No, I’m just fine. I have Alopecia. It only affects my hair,” they will sometimes hear that, sometimes not. But regardless, they will often tell you about how they battled cancer, went through chemo, where it was in their body, how many treatments they went through, how hard it was on them and their family, how long it’s been now, and how they’re still fighting. I get it, they want connection...me too, sometimes. I don’t really mind it. It helps to talk. I can spend a few minutes listening. It’s the least I can do. I listen. I hug. I encourage. It’s what I would want someone to do for me. Many of them are very encouraging of me, too. Sometimes, I feel comfortable enough to also share. It’s better than staring. I’ll take making a new friend over being stared at any day.
Often, I am confronted by the grieving. My heart goes out to them but, I have to ask…if I did have cancer, why would you tell me your wife just died of it…in front of my husband? Or your mother…in front of my kids? Or your child…IN FRONT OF MY KIDS? If I did have cancer, that probably isn’t the best way to connect with me or encourage me, yet, it happens a lot. I’ve been waiting for my food for an hour, trying to keep two cranky, hungry children entertained. We JUST got our food and I’m cutting up a pancake and you want to come and tell me about how your wife lost her long painful struggle with cancer and how you can’t stop grieving? I just want to have breakfast with my family. I am not without compassion but, I do wear out. I get compassion fatigue. I listen, I nod, I hug. I dig deep and put myself in their shoes. I offer to pray with them sometimes. I tell them how helpful support groups are. I tell them not to be afraid to talk to their pastor or a counselor, it really helps.
I miss the luxury of anonymity. I fantasize about being invisible. I’m an introvert. I can do all the extroverted things but it takes a lot out of me and it takes me away from my family. My husband gets furious about the staring. He loves me. He's protective. If I start to feel uncomfortable, he might just say something to you, and it might not be kind. I really don’t want to spend my meal asking him to calm down, trying to convince him it won’t help (or will only make me feel worse), or protecting you from being called out on your rude behavior. I hate seeing him upset. My family laughs a lot. We talk and thoroughly enjoy each others company. We're not that family staring into our individual hand-held devices. We never seem to run out of things to talk about or have enough time with each other. My husband and my children are my favorite people. When I'm with them I want to be present.
I love movies. I like going to movies with friends or family, but I have always loved going to the movies by myself. I don’t enjoy talking during the movie. Don’t offer me popcorn, talk about how the actor was good in that other movie, or ask me how my mom is doing. Don’t pull me out of the movie. If I’m an hour into a movie, I’m really enjoying my suspension of disbelief, I’m there in the moment and I’ve completely forgotten that I’m in a movie theater. I'm not thinking about how many things I need to tackle tomorrow. Don’t tap me on the leg and bring me out of the movie. It’s kind of the same thing when I’m out having a good time with my family. Bobby makes a joke, Georgie offers me a ketchup covered French-fry, Charlie is telling me about something funny that happened at work and I’m trying desperately to ignore the fact that I’m being stared at so I can find my way back to this precious moment with my family. If I’m out with my mama and we’re talking about something serious, and there is the stranger that needs to connect, to share, to grieve, it's distracting. (Well, I was already connecting).
If you are a friend or acquaintance, you better say, “Hi!” I don’t care if I’m cutting up a pancake or not. Tell me how you are. Ask me how I am. Don’t hesitate. But, if you are out and about and you see someone who looks different than you, practice self-control. Treat that person like you would anyone else. If you would talk to them, talk. If you wouldn’t, don’t. Don’t stare. Force yourself not to stare. If you do talk to the person, don’t talk to their hat, or their wig. Don’t talk to their missing leg or their scar on their face. Look into their eyes, smile gently. Ask them how they are, and then…listen.
I like it when people compliment me, everyone does. “Great hat!” Score! Now I feel good. Don’t tell a person in a hat that there is this thing called Rogaine that you’ve seen on TV. Don’t ask, “why don’t you just try putting some onion juice on your head?” If they are an adult, if they can read, they’ve done their research, been to the doctor, and tried absolutely everything before they went out…into the world…bald. Don’t ask them, “Why don’t you just wear a wig?” when they are wearing a hat. Don’t ask them “Why don’t you just go bald? No one cares,” when they are wearing a wig. Just assume that I can make these decisions for myself. I will choose what to wear depending on my own comfort level, life experience, fashion sense, personal preference, current weather patterns and planned activities that day. Now, IF you are a friend, a close friend, and I express an insecurity to you or ask for advice, then I’m inviting you in and am looking for information and encouragement. That’s different. But if you don’t know a person, it’s best not to offer advice.
Since I’ve had Alopecia, I have really seen people’s true colors. I can say for the far majority of people and circumstances that people are good, well-meaning, and vastly fascinating. I like people more and more every day. I like them enough to try, in the only way I know how, to teach them about how I prefer to be treated.
When in doubt, follow the words and example of Jesus and you can’t go wrong: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
