Don't Be Sorry, Do Something

How a simple "How are you?" can go a long way.

Back in the halcyon days of pre-Election Day 2016, I was just another advanced maternal-age pregnant woman trying to make it through the dog days of summer while living in New York City.

One day, I was in the elevator of my Queens apartment building, when my neighbors, a boomer couple from down the hall, stepped in. The wife was always friendly, but on this brutally hot day, after glancing at my nine-months-pregnant belly, she made a comment that, to this day, I still use as an example of a kind but poorly executed display of concern:

"Wow, it must be really difficult for you to deal with this heat."

On the surface, many people would probably brush this off as a completely innocuous piece of small talk. Because she was correct: The heat was unbearable. Add on a giant baby bump and, yeah, navigating the humid streets of Manhattan and Queens wasn't exactly a walk in a breezy park.

What was so off-putting about this woman's remark was how she had taken away my emotional autonomy. Instead of simply asking, "How are you managing in this heat?" she had already decided how I felt.

Eight years after that incident, I found myself thinking about my former Queens neighbor when a well-meaning friend made the same communication faux pas.

Look, I get that we're living in unprecedented times. Every day we're bombarded with more mayhem out of Trump Administration 2.0, and most of us don't know which way is up anymore. (FYI, as difficult as it is, we need to keep our wits about us, because this "shock and awe" attack is deliberate. The new administration is trying to overwhelm and confuse us with these multiple batshit executive orders so we'll eventually back down and accept everything they put in front of us.)

Anyway, the other day, my friend texted me a message that, again, had loving intentions, but turned me off for several reasons: Most egregiously, like the Queens neighbor, this friend took away my emotional autonomy. Instead of asking me how I was doing, she wrote the following:

"It must be terrifying to be in your position right now with the diversity of your family, and I'm very sorry that it's come this far with our government, and apparently, half the country."

A little context: This (white) friend wrote me this text because my husband is Puerto Rican (and our daughter is half-Puerto Rican). All three of us are U.S. citizens and were born in New York, with my parents and my husband's parents also American citizens. Now, I understand that she wrote this because of the disorganized and racial profiling methods ICE is currently executing, but, frankly, all this text did was raise my anxiety, not lower it. Also, commenting on the "diversity" of my Jewyorican family is just laughable; with one text, my friend turned herself into social-justice warrior Jacob Hill from Abbott Elementary.

Am I terrified? Of course, I’m terrified! I'm terrified for the state of our country and for the undocumented immigrants and their children who are living in fear of deportation. The last thing anybody needs, however, are "well-meaning" people like this friend offering sympathies from their so-called place of privilege. I say “so-called” because, as I've written before, the only people left who have any true privilege these days are white, male billionaires.

Also, remember how Barack Obama would say, "Don't boo, vote"? I could not stop thinking about this advice when this friend told me she was sorry about what our government is doing — or when Elon Musk gave a Nazi salute. Well, instead of saying you're sorry, how about doing something? I’d much prefer that this friend contacted her senators and congressperson, and used her voice to express her dismay at the harm our government is causing innocent people.

The truth is, there is a simple way to avoid these kinds of communication blunders. Instead of jumping to your own conclusions, why not start the conversation with, "I was thinking about you today when I heard the reports of ICE erroneously targeting U.S. citizens. How are you and your family doing?" Let the recipient of your concern determine the tenor of the conversation.

The other thing we need to do to improve our communication health? Listen to one another. Listen to our pain. Acknowledge our collective pain. Finally, unless you actually work for the government, there’s no need to say you’re sorry — last I checked, I wasn’t a victim, and my family members aren’t either.

I do understand no one is really in the mood to have a conversation with anyone about anything these days. The other night, I posted on Threads about how I don’t like chatting with people anymore, and how I prefer writing instead of talking. I was pleasantly surprised to learn I wasn't alone in my desire to remain isolated.

But if you do want to start talking to your friends and loved ones again, then how do we start up those conversations? Well, you can never go wrong with, "How are you?" And you can always follow up with an encouraging, "Be honest."

Speaking of honesty, I'm pretty sure a lot of the reasons so many of us have been so quiet is because we're scared, we're overwhelmed, and we don't know what to say.

So, as with anything, start simply. Ask people how they're doing, and, if they seem comfortable enough, you can ask specific questions about how the drastic changes coming out of Washington affect them.

Our nervous systems are shot, and it’s only been two weeks. Still, it’s never a good idea to assume how people feel. Everyone deserves emotional autonomy, so ask how we’re doing, and we’ll tell you.

My latest article for Rescripted.com: “Belly Fat and Bloating in Perimenopause: What Gives?”