There’s something satisfying about disappearing into a big city.
Growing up in regional Queensland, disappearing was never an option. I knew all of my neighbours, and passing a stranger on the street usually meant eye contact and maybe saying hello.
But in cities like Sydney and Melbourne, it’s easy to feel like a drop in the ocean. When I first moved to Melbourne, I was surprised by how alienated I felt; how it wasn’t unusual for locals to establish a select group of friendships before closing themselves off to new ones. After a while, though, I took comfort in the city’s ways. My social world ended where my friends and family did, and everyone else was just backdrop. I didn’t see the strangers around me, and even relished in the anonymity that the city offered. What sociologist Erving Goffman called civil inattention—the tendency to acknowledge but never speak to the unknown people around you—became a way of life.
Talking to strangers helps us to feel socially connected.
But a recent trip overseas made me see how disconnected I had become.
Last year, I visited New York City for the first time. I dragged a friend along to a comedy night in the Brooklyn, as I was keen to see one of my favourite comedians perform. Though I had lost my friend in the crowd, I found myself laughing at the same jokes as the person next to me.
“Hey, do you know the name of the host?” he asked. “Her voice sounds so familiar to me”. After years of living in Melbourne, I remember the palpable jolt of being spoken to by a stranger. “Oh, it’s Jo Firestone, I think,” I mumbled back. “Oh that’s it, I saw her in those YouTube videos on Riot”, he said. “Yeah, me too!” I yelled back, a little too loudly. “That’s why I’m here!”
Conversation flew easily from there, and why wouldn’t it? We were at a pretty niche event, so we already had that in common. And there was something so gratifying about acknowledging that we were in the same city, in the same space, having this shared experience.
It wasn’t long before he introduced himself— a minor formality that I rarely encountered back home. “It’s great to meet you”, he offered, in a polite East Coast twang.
I know what you’re thinking. Come ON, I hear you protest. That could’ve happened anywhere. People meet people in Australian cities all the time, you miserable person.
You make a good point, imaginary reader. But this wasn’t just a one-off. I spent less than two weeks in the city, but came across the same warmth and curiosity from New Yorkers again and again.
This cultural disconnect became the most obvious as I boarded my flight back home. Everywhere, I overheard Americans making sprightly small talk with the bewildered but accommodating Australians sitting next to them.
I’ve now learnt how humanising it can be to strike up a conversation with the person sitting next to you.
The passenger next to me, a woman in her late 60s from Colorado, was also quick to introduce herself as the boarded the plane. “My goodness, I feel like a princess!” she exclaimed after being offered a cup of juice before take-off. We chatted regularly as she regaled me with stories of her time in Adelaide in the 1980s and her longing to return. “I hear you only live once!” she beamed. At the end of the flight she thanked me for my company. “You know, I was worried about who they’d sit me next to, but I’m so glad it was you! You made this a great experience, thank you”. I was touched by her earnestness, and awkwardly returned the compliment.
An earlier version of me would’ve baulked at the idea, but I’ve now learnt how humanising it can be to strike up a conversation with the person sitting next to you. To take a moment. To acknowledge your shared humanity.
And it’s an experience that seems to extend beyond my own. In 2014, researchers from the University of Chicago found that we may be ‘mistakenly seeking solitude’. The authors argue that we choose isolation in places like waiting rooms, trains and planes, because we expect it to be a more positive experience than engaging with a stranger. But through a set of social experiments, the study concluded that reaching out to a stranger tends to be more beneficial than keeping to yourself.
As humans, the authors stress, we are an inherently social species—hard-wired to connect with each other. Talking to strangers helps us to feel socially connected, boosting happiness and health.
And at a time when loneliness is on the rise, when young Australians are experiencing higher levels of loneliness than the elderly, the need for us to connect is becoming more urgent than ever. The good news is that it’s something that every one of us can help make happen. And it starts with saying hello.
Reena Gupta is a freelance writer. You can follow Reena on Twitter @purpletank.
