I've always heard that New Yorkers are rude. They have a certain aggressive way of talking and it gives a brash vibe to outsiders. Over here in California, I've always thought the sunshine and weather made people naturally happier. I dunno. I think I might be wrong about Cali -- at least nowadays, anyway.
Doesn't it feel like we've collectively decided to default to suspicion or disinterest when encountering strangers? Like the automatic programming in our social chips has been rewritten from "friendly" to "wary"?
I remember a time, not so long ago, when the world felt, if not entirely safe, then at least fundamentally open.
As a kid growing up, my neighborhood was an extension of my home. Walks down the street were punctuated by genuine "hellos" to passing strangers – not just a polite nod, but often a brief exchange, a shared moment of humanity. My parents, like many, taught me to be friendly, to offer a smile, to assume the best until proven otherwise. Our neighbors weren't just faces behind fences; they were Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So, people whose birthdays we celebrated in backyards filled with laughter, who offered us candy on a whim, who kept an eye out for us. There was a sense of inherent community, an unspoken agreement that we were all in this together, and a friendly disposition was the default setting.
Now, when I walk through the streets of West Hollywood – a city that, despite its vibrant facade, often retains an intimate, almost village-like quietness in its residential areas – the contrast is stark.
The friendly wave or casual "good morning" feels like a relic. Instead, I frequently encounter people who give you a scowl, a suspicious glance, or simply avert their eyes, almost as if acknowledging your presence is an intrusion. It's not just a lack of warmth; it's often an active dismissal, a subtle but palpable message that you are merely an obstacle in their path, not another human being sharing the same space.
And neighbors? Most people don't even seem to know the names of the people living next door, let alone celebrate milestones or offer a helping hand with a stray pet. We used to share backyards; now we seem to share only a zip code, living in our own meticulously constructed bubbles, hermetically sealed from genuine, spontaneous connection.
This isn’t a rant about "be kind" or "kindness matters," or any of those whimsical "just be a good person" mantras that populate inspirational social media posts.
While those sentiments hold value, my observation isn't about pushing an ideology; it’s about a fundamental shift in our public behavior.
It feels like we, as a society, no longer automatically extend niceness to strangers unless they've somehow earned or deserved it. The baseline has plummeted. A friendly smile used to be a free gift, freely given and received. Now, it feels like a transaction, something reserved for people we know, or people who have already proven their worthiness. What happened to the simple, unburdened act of a friendly gaze, a shared moment of benign recognition, just because?
I find myself constantly trying to decode these interactions. Are people genuinely caught up in their own worlds, their minds buzzing with deadlines, anxieties or the latest digital distraction? Or are they simply, irrevocably, in a bad mood when they step out their front door? Is the relentless pace of modern life, the constant bombardment of information, or the pervasive sense of unease in the world, simply manifesting as a default scowl? Perhaps the line between our perceived private space and public space has blurred, leading us to guard our emotional energy even when merely passing someone on the street.
It’s disheartening because this silent shift has tangible consequences. When we’re constantly guarded, constantly suspicious, we miss out on the small, fleeting connections that add richness to our daily lives. We lose the sense of shared humanity that makes navigating our communities not just tolerable, but genuinely pleasant. It erodes trust, not necessarily in the grand, societal sense, but in the micro-moments that build up to a larger feeling of belonging.
The truth is, I don't have a definitive answer for why this change has occurred. The reasons are likely complex and multi-faceted, ranging from increased urban density to screen addiction, from political polarization to a general sense of overwhelm. But the impact is clear: we are living in a world where the default setting for interacting with a stranger has become one of caution, skepticism, and often, outright indifference.
Perhaps the first step is simply acknowledging this shift. To pause, to observe, and to consider the cost of this unspoken agreement to stay within our bubbles. Maybe, just maybe, recognizing it can be the starting point for consciously choosing a different default – one where a friendly smile, a simple nod, or a genuine "hello" might once again become the effortless, unearned gift it once was. Because while it might not solve the world's problems, it could certainly make walking down any street, in any city, feel a little less lonely and a little more human.