Talking to Strangers

“Don’t talk to strangers!” may very well be the earliest lesson you recall your mother spatting at you. In our early years, we learn to be cautious of people we don’t know—avoiding eye contact with adults on the sidewalk, sticking to our social circles on the playground, and sprinting away when an unfamiliar SUV drives too close to our driveway. As we age, this cautious nature is less of a regard to safety and more of a fear of discomfort. This often translates to secluding to the corner of an unfamiliar party, choosing a seat in the back row of your lecture hall, or keeping your nose down on your phone on public transport, in line at the grocery store, you name it. The current era of technology is no help in ridding these habits of social isolation. The norm has become communication through screens and messaging apps rather than face-to-face conversations. Generations are starting to be raised behind iPads and phone screens, and social anxiety is at an all-time high. The importance of real human interaction is often overlooked and forgotten.

The art of talking to strangers is a crucial part of life. It is essential in professional interactions, but it is also important in expanding your horizons beyond the circles you find yourself in. Becoming comfortable in small talk will expose you to new people, new walks of life, and new experiences. By learning to linger a little longer in conversation, this is what I’ve learned: There is a certain level of transparency that is present when talking to a complete stranger– a lack of attachment to the before and after of the conversation. Honesty is inherent when there’s confidence that you won’t see this person again, and you may be five minutes into a ramble before you realize you might be spewing the most honest things you’ve ever said. In addition to this, it has become apparent that we are all more similar than typically thought to be. As a species, humans share the same fundamental needs and desires: wants for belongingness, abilities to feel heard, and ways to feel connected in a world that is often detached.

I had brunch recently with my best friend, and we sparked up a conversation with the hostess. She was an older woman, working through retirement to stay sharp. She spent thirty years living in Japan, and a few living all over New England but ended up back in her hometown to be with family—a sort of home base. After breaking the wall of animated smiles and salutations, this all seemed to flow out of her as if it were on the tip of her tongue, and she was simply waiting for someone to ask. I think this serves as proof that everyone has something that they’re waiting to say, and if you take the time to listen, it will come pouring out. Everyone is simply waiting for someone else to be the first to say hello.

Strike Out,

Writer: Sarah Bourloukas

Editor: Lindsey Limbach

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