We all want to feel safe, physically and emotionally. And many of life’s anxieties – unemployment, divorce, vasectomy and 50km/h speed limits – still hold out the prospect of something better in the future. Centrelink may find you a job that takes you to Paris every month to buy shoes for a famous pop star. Today might be the very day you step out into the traffic and get hit (gently) by a car driven by the soon-to-be-spouse of your dreams, and vasectomies can be reversed.
But far too frequently I’m reading about stabbings, bashings, home invasions and domestic brutalities that challenge my hopes and desecrate my world view like a dog turd on the couch.
Good on Premier Ted for saying refugees are “as Australian as the Anzac legend of Simpson and his donkey and should be embraced with open arms”, but the fact that it even needs to be said makes my nostrils flare.
Last week the Liberal Party’s Teresa Gambaro let me down – unlike a certain underarm product that promises the opposite – with such a thud I thought my extremities had turned to stone. I know she has apologised, but where were her minders when she suggested that new arrivals who want to integrate into Australian society should use a deodorant? Her comments did not make me feel safe. Has Ms Gambaro never walked up the stairs of a suburban block of flats and inhaled the familiar and piquant Aussie odour of frying bacon, eggs and cat’s piss?
We’re all vulnerable and we have to acknowledge that we’re constantly affecting and being affected by one another or we will become a nation of automatons. Too scared to smile at strangers, too cautious to take a chance, leaving no stone unturned and no margin for better metaphors. Our actions and words reflect who we are and when we treat each other with no respect, no compassion and no tenderness – cover your eyes, kids, it’s not a pretty sight.
On a recent flight I witnessed a catalogue-perfect tiny child waddle over to the galley, shove her hand out with an empty glass and say, “I want Coke”.
The flight attendant nodded at her reassuringly.
“I want Coke,” she repeated.
“What else do you say?” he suggested.
“Just give it to her, will you!” her mother snarled without even looking at him.
I did want to give it to the mother, but I’d just painted my nails. To quote a friend who’s a purser, “We’re here to save your arse, not lick it!”
What happened to “Please”, “Thank you” and “Can I help?” Did polls and market research reveal that respect is not what people want?
I believe we’re unsafe because we no longer make eye contact. We’ve been convinced that to be safe is to not get involved, to look away, and to be absent. We’ve ceased being curious about each other. We need to be able to look at each other, to know what the other is like; dark skinned, yellow skinned, white skinned, in silk or rags. In thongs, shoes or muddy feet; walking or in a wheelchair; frail, strong, demure or rowdy. Those with all their limbs and those with some missing.
This Australia Day, look into a stranger’s eyes, not in a sad-puppy, head-tilted-to-one side kind of way, but with a smile. So they know you recognise their unique individuality.
Warning: this may develop into a new psychosis called Pronoia, the fear that people are conspiring behind your back to help you.
» Rachel Berger is one of Australia’s most highly regarded, adept, and adaptive comedic talents, working variously as a comedian, broadcaster, novelist, columnist, agitator and television?entertainer.
» boomboom@rachelberger.com