The Internal Stuggle of Being a Bystander

I think all my peers would agree that it is a constant struggle to watch the verbal and physical abuse that exists on the public transportation system in Philadelphia. We've had many conversations about how this affects us while transporting to our host sites and how we feel hopeless in the watching. This is typically occurring from parent to child, but it also happens between two couples or among teenagers. This morning I watched a young mother drag her child up the stairs from the subway station. A child being scolded for talking or saying the wrong thing.

It would be erroneous for me to assume that all of these parents are "bad parents" because of the parenting style that I've witnessed. Stress,  financial instability, and lack of support are just a few of the compiling factors that may contribute to this snap that I witness daily on transit. Aren't they doing the best they can? It's also easy to forget (especially not being a parent) that kids, while seemingly being adorable, continue to ask and ask and ask questions - Louis CK says it well in his stand-up on kids - until you just want to scream.

But this is the beautiful thing about the developing brain. New neuronal connections are constantly being fired, constantly stimulated. This excitement should be nourished. How do we, as bystanders, ignore these children that are getting bashed for asking questions? The children that are harassed and left in silence, because their parent is busy on a telephone call? How will this child be audacious, how will this child persevere, if he or she is constantly brought down? Is it ever okay to physically scold your child? We know that inflicting emotional pain, especially towards your child, is just as detrimental, to the mind and spirit. This is my internal struggle of being a bystander.

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Or how about when a straggly homeless man appears on the subway and just stands there, in front of a crowded train, with a sign: 'homeless, please help'

No words. Peering at his feet. Minutes pass.  No one looks at him, and if they do, it's a look of shame or a quickly forgotten glance.

I sit there in silence, looking up from my book. I want to acknowledge him. I'm sure you have experienced this. Does a smile hurt or help? I don't want to take pity, and I know giving the man change is unsustainable. Plus, with the numbers of the homeless in Philadelphia soaring above 12,000, I can't afford to give change to all those I pass, especially on this AmeriCorps stipend.

I've thought about keeping a printed list of homeless shelters or food kitchens with me when I travel. But how is this gesture going to be interpreted?  How do I acknowledge in the best way possible?  A high majority of us are programmed robots, diverging in our tracks if we come across homelessness. We are guilty of ignoring the unbearably evident truth that MENTAL health has stifled these individuals, and we blame THEM.  Are we guilty or is it our culture? Aren't we a product of the culture? Or is the culture a product of us?

A newly painted mural - by the bus stop, outside of Health Center 9 - in Germantown.