I was flying home from a speaking gig in Atlanta and was waiting at my gate in the airport terminal. My kosher Chinese takeout had made a narrow escape from TSA clutches, and now I had just started to chow down when I saw her: a fellow hair-coverer.
My stealthy spying skills are finely honed (we play Spy Alley) and therefore my staring/sorting was imperceptible to the naked eye. In between forkfuls of lemon chicken, I confidently deduced that she was very young (17), Christian, not Amish, NOS (not otherwise specified).
Now for the real question: do I approach her?
I mean, I’m always down for a religious Q&A, but not everyone is me. So I’ve learned. Still, covering one’s hair, and in her case, dressing in homemade non-Western clothing, isn’t always easy, and we could all use some solidarity. So, I swallowed my mouthful and said, “Hey!”
It was at that moment that it occurred to me that I happened to be wearing my wig and not a headscarf, my more common cover-of-choice, as I was coming from a conference and was going for the professional, rather than hippie, look. So, what do I say? I’m a fellow head-coverer, but you can’t tell today, but usually I’m as conspicuous as you?
Which is pretty much what I said.
She smiled. I told her I was an Orthodox Jew and asked if it would be OK to ask her what type of religion she followed. I suppressed my fist bump when she said, “Just a Christian trying to follow the Bible.” She said she had been in South America helping a former church member who had several young children and a traveling husband. It was her first time flying. She had six siblings; I told her of my large family. She said they were all coming to meet her at the airport. I later saw them: young, countercultural, wide-eyed.
I remain fascinated by fellow religionists. Their sticking out like a sore thumb makes me feel vindicated somehow. I am proud of them; they inspire me. I’m glad we met and I’m glad I spoke up.
I continue to wonder about the young not-Amish woman in the airport. Does she sometimes wish she dressed like everyone else, as I do? Does she sometimes feel proud to look different – choosing not to blend in – as I do? Does she feel honored to answer the questions that sometimes come her way, or relieved when people surreptitiously stare-without-staring and ask nothing at all?
Does she like to venture out into the big world, where all these questions become real, or prefer the shelter and insularity of home, where everything is uncomplicated?
I’ll never know the answers. I don’t even remember her very ordinary name (so unlike mine, I ruefully noted). But in many ways, I can’t get her out of my head. She is me; I am she. And yet – so different. It is the human story, yet we nearly never reach out to the stranger in the airport and say, “Hey.”
Hey. Let’s talk for five minutes and see how much we have in common. Hey. You are me, and I am you. Hey. We are all connected. Hey. Understanding you will help me understand me.
Hey.
Loved this, Ruchi!
I too feel connected to other people of faith, even if they don’t feel connected to me. On my way to work, I pass by a very small yeshiva boys school that is located in an otherwise very Catholic neighborhood and I literally have to stop myself from yelling “Hi! I see you!” to the boys who are running down the street while they hold onto their slightly too-big hats. I know that ultra-Orthodox and non-Orthodox Jews are at odds over any number of issues but I still feel pride and joy when I see Jews being Jewish in public and I feel a less-strong but still definite sense of connection when I see other people being visibly religious. Every person is made in the image of G-d but not every person is willing to declare it in such a vulnerable and public way. So you want to say, “I see you living your faith and being so openly vulnerable and I want you to know that I support you. Seeing you just now reminded me of what we are all doing here, so thanks, and just know that you’re not alone.” Maybe we should print up cards for this occasion.
I hope that my checking out religiously-dressed people is not obvious and doesn’t come off as gawking. But I am always curious–Amish? Face-covered women? OJs? Would always love to know what their clothes mean to them. But I would never approach someone to say anything.
Why not? Too personal? Too weird?
It seems presumptuous. Why should I feel free to go up to a stranger and ask them personal questions? Certainly if I knew that someone enjoyed discussing her religious dress it would be different, but how would I know that? If someone were out there proselytizing then I would feel ok about it.
Speaking of which: Once there was a rabbi at the local university with a table that said “Ask the Rabbi”. So I asked him a question I had wondered about (I had a 9-month-old at the time): Is human milk pareve? Because otherwise wouldn’t there be a problem with O women nursing babies at dinner with meat?
Forgot to add that he told me he would investigate and get back to me, and took my email address. Never got an answer but did get a lot of unwanted email from his organization.
well, that’s annoying.
Human milk is pareve, by the way.