The Dancer

“This is how change happens one gesture, one person, one moment at a time.”

The California sun is shining, KCRW is living up to its’ reputation as the best station in town, and it’s turning into a perfect day. As I’m waiting to make a right turn into the parking lot at Target, I gaze to my left and become entranced with a woman across the street – dancing. Her movements are graceful, even with a large backpack strapped to her body. What catches even more of my attention is that she is dancing to the rhythm and beat of the music on the radio! Earbuds, perhaps, tuned to KCRW…Unlikely.

Walking into Target, I spot Starbucks and know it is time for my second cup of the day. A few indecisive people are in front of me, and as I’m glancing around, I notice someone standing off to my left. 

It’s the dancer from across the street. She is no longer animated, but there is definitely music playing that only she hears as she sways to the tune.

We make eye contact, we smile, and I ask her, were you in line? No, she answers and takes a few steps toward the cold drinks and snack case. And says, “No, no, I’m thinking, I’m thinking, I’m thinking, no, no, I’m not in line.”

She then asks, “Are you going to a party?” I smile as I say no and ask her why she thinks I’m going to a party.

“Because you look so pretty and all dressed up.” I thank her as she quietly says a few things to herself and smiles at me again.

As I move up the line, I decide I would like to buy her a drink and something to eat. She has moved back to the cold case, and I decide to approach her. I take just a step or two, not too close, and reach out and touch her arm.

She explodes into an agitated panic… “Oh my God, oh my God. Don’t do that. Don’t touch me.” She turns to me with terror in her eyes and, with a frantic motion, begins to brush off her arm where I touched her. She backs away and runs to the large open trash can, and continues to brush her arm frantically.

I walk toward her. Not too close. The last thing I want to do is add to her panic, so I keep a distance. She turns and faces me, yelling, “No, no.” I raise my hands slightly to indicate no harm. But the harm has been done. My words of apology fade as she runs toward the exit. 

Her face is seared into my memory. I have unintentionally terrified this woman. And I am totally distraught.

I head to the pharmacy, pick up my prescription and walk to my car. I sit quietly. I have never terrified someone, especially a fragile someone. I know I should not have reached out and touched her. Many people, from those living on the streets to those living in the house next door, do not want to be touched by a stranger. 

My small, attempted act of kindness fades as the totality of the encounter settles into my consciousness.

The traffic to Silver Lake is going to double my drive time. I turn the radio off. I need quiet. The dancer’s fear is held firmly in my mind’s eye. I can see her face filled with terror. I am so overwhelmed with sadness – for her – for all those souls driven to the streets. Especially those like the dancer who seem to lack the skills to help themselves. I don’t know why I was drawn to her. She was not disheveled. She was not asking me for money. She was in her own world. I guess I was curious and drawn to talk to her.   

I wish this had all gone differently. That it did not is for me to ponder. Will my curiosity get the better of me the next time…I hope so. My intent was and continues to be kindness.

Now, though, I will approach a stranger with this experience as an embedded reminder that we never know what an individual has been through in their life. I will not be deterred from extending an act of kindness to someone. I’ll continue to believe that the reward of kindness is in the extension of oneself.