Dear Steele: I know you know this, but sometimes I forget, what people think about us has absolutely no bearing on our lives whatsoever unless we allow it to. I thought about this as I was sitting in the Miami airport observing the people walking by. I thought about the various times I had walked through those hallways wondering about the people who were potentially judging me. If I was late for a flight running towards Concourse D, Gate D35a, weaving through the pedestrians, I would think about what I thought people were thinking: ‘Why doesn’t she slow down, she could kill somebody’ or ‘she should have got to the airport earlier’ or ‘if she misses her flight that serves her right’. Sometimes, despite the fact that I might indeed miss my flight, I would slow down and try to walk briskly, because I thought that was more appropriate airport etiquette. If I slowed down I thought people would render a righteous judgment.
One time on my way to Nassau I ordered a mushroom pizza from Sabarro’s that was enough of an entrée to satisfy my hunger. I decided to order a Chicken Caesar Salad to accompany it because it looked just as divine, even though I knew it would also be just as filling. When I arrived at my gate and sat down to eat the meal I just paid $20 for I was instantly overcome by my thoughts about everyone else in the room. Were they thinking I was a glutton for ordering so much? Was the smell of my food offending them? Was I eating like a pig? Was I taking up too many seats, with my food bag and my laptop bag and my hand bag and my carry-on bag? As I was consuming my food, I was consuming a healthy portion of trash talk that I also ordered and served on myself. I might as well have been eating a mud pie.
On another occasion, as I sat at D29 on my 3-hour layaway in transit to Jamaica, I thought I’d spend some of my time observing the pulse of the airport. I saw a man, who was sitting with some other men who were speaking Italian. I thought to myself, European men have such horrible shape. I saw a lady who had a really long ass; she had tight fitting cotton pajama-like pants that sunk into the crevasse of her but cheeks. I thought: damn, she has a lot of confidence, and a lot of nerve. I saw an obese man walking several paces behind his party of two, breathing heavily and swaying slightly. I thought: he must be very unhealthy. I saw a man walk by in a tight white shirt that opened down to his chest. I thought: how ‘metro’. No, he’s so gay. I saw a woman with cellulite ridden thighs in a short jeans skirt and I thought: ‘Oh no she didn’t’.
All of these people were going about their routine looking for Gate 32, or the Admirals Club, or Baggage Claim or Ground Transportation. Who they were being was of no consequence to my life. If that presumably Italian man walked by with the shape of a model, and I thought, damn, Europeans have great bodies, it would have made no difference in my life and I would have enjoyed the moment in the say way. If that obsess man had collapsed in front of me, I would have still waited 3-hours and boarded my flight to Jamaica. I would still have been Khalila Nicolls. I would still have been a 5 foot something, African woman with brown eyes and locks.
What I thought about them was of no consequence to their lives either. When that overweight woman put on her skirt that morning, she wasn’t thinking about me. She was admiring herself in the mirror, thinking: ‘damn I look sexy.’ When she woke up the next day, she wouldn’t have been thinking about me when deciding what outfit to select from her overcrowded closet. She would be thinking: ‘what do I feel like wearing today’. As she walked through the airport, even if I wanted my thoughts to have an impact on her, to make her change her clothes, they couldn’t unless she gave me permission. And why would she; she was obviously quite content this morning when she selected that ensemble.
Even if they were thinking that someone out there was thinking the same thoughts I was in fact thinking, my thoughts were meaningless. Their thoughts on the other hand had power: power to cause themselves self-destruction or self-empowerment. We are constantly depriving ourselves through self regulation to conform to what we believe others think is acceptable behaviour, even when it goes against our instincts, our better judgment and our current object of desire. Sometimes we drive ourselves to madness without needing anyone else’s help.