Day 3 (November 14, 2016): Far More Than a Haircut

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I find myself realizing exactly how good I have it. No matter how much griping is like a second language to me at times, I'm damn fortunate. If I'm out of food, I go to the store. If I'm tired (and assuming everyone else is asleep,of course), I cuddle under my comforter. I rely on my cell phone, TV, and credit cards like they're vital organs--items I couldn't live without. And, if something is unpleasant enough, I have the ability to turn away from it . . . to block it out. Not that turning away is the right thing to do--it rarely ever is--but, if I want to, I can.

However, one thing I learned last week was that not everyone enjoys the same luxuries and latitudes. For many people, facing hatred, fear, and judgment is an undeniable part of existence itself. Sometimes the ignorance others show them is rooted in racism. Other times, it's the result of sexism or homophobia. The truth is, our world is chock-full of "ism"s and "phobias" that represent more ugliness than Dorian Gray's portrait. And, for the men, women, and children at their receiving end, it's impossible to turn away or block out the belligerence, subtle as it may seem at times. 

Our nation's homeless are the perfect case in point. We walk past them, often quickening our pace as we do. We avoid making eye contact, and we try to push them out of our minds. Why shouldn't we? After all, they're a reminder of a social responsibility we've failed to shoulder--and of a form of suffering we don't choose to contemplate. For the homeless, however, turning away isn't so simple. They're all too familiar with the pain of being ignored, condescended to, and inspiring fear, hatred, and judgment. 

A gloomy picture, no? It is, except that there are people out there like San Diego salon owner Ginger Rich. Rich provides free haircuts to members of the local homeless population. Because, as Rich recently stated during an interview with NBC 7, she once was homeless. 

Now, I can't imagine that's a happy memory for her. I'm ashamed to admit that, if it was me, it's one of those recollections I'd likely try to banish to the recesses of my mind. But what's the price of forgetting, of turning away? How much compassion and empathy do we sacrifice to have only happy thoughts? 

As I read about Rich (see http://www.nbcsandiego.com/news/local/I-Love-Him-Salon-Provides-Haircuts-and-Kindness-to-Homeless--401044375.html), I realized that she gives out more than haircuts. She restores dignity to people who are far too frequently treated as less than human. The beauty of the theme of this story is that it's applicable to so many stories involving marginalized groups. The terrible reality we met head on last week (in the context of everything from KKK parades to chants of "Build the wall!" in school lunch rooms) is that we have the power to strip others of a sense of belonging and, even more fundamentally, humanity.  But a far greater truth is that we also have the ability to restore what we, as a society, sometimes take away--through kindness. 

The game-changing kindness: Someone made the choice to not turn away from those who need kindness the most--those who can't always turn away from the ugliness of hatred, fear, and judgment.

How it changed the game: It demonstrated how we have the power to choose kindness . . . and, by extension, restore faith in humanity.

How it could change my/your game: The world can be ugly, but it doesn't have to be. Right now, so many people are worried about where we, as Americans, are headed. I can't say it's an invalid concern, but--thanks to our ability to choose kindness--we're not powerless when it comes to addressing it.