So I was at SDCC this year, and I passed a stall in the ladies' and heard someone sobbing inside. Just bawling, fully melting down. My-dog-just-died levels of crying. And I've spent a lot of time in therapy trying to learn better boundaries around helping people, but I'm not made of stone, so I stopped outside the stall door and asked, "Are you okay?"
The woman's breath caught, and she said, "Yeah, I'm fine," in the least fine voice I have ever heard.
So I walked away. Made it all the way to the sinks. Washed my hands. And turned around and went back because nope, not fine, not okay.
"Look, I don't want to be a dick, and you don't have to tell me what's going on, but is there anything that would help? I've got water, ibuprofen, and safety pins, and I could find other stuff."
"No, no, it's fine. I have those too."
I made it to the sinks again. She went back to sobbing like her heart was being torn out one strand of muscle at a time.
An older woman sidled up to me. "Did she tell you anything?"
"Nope. I offered her water and ibuprofen, too."
"Oh! I've got snacks. Maybe that'll help."
"Worth a shot. Oh, hey, I think I have some of my business cards for my Etsy shop in here—I could write my number on one if she needs help later."
We hurried back to the stall, offered the snacks, and were rebuffed. Finally we slid the card and the pen under the stall door, explained that we were both mom friends/teachers/etc. and trying to help-not-creep, and reluctantly fucked off. I personally felt like shit about it, but I had places to be and I felt like I was close to overstepping the crying woman's boundaries if I hadn't already done so. And if I'd made her feel unsafe, well, she could toss the card.
The following morning, I got a text from an unknown number.
She identified herself as "Rose from the bathroom" and explained that she'd had a hell of a day, with multiple people being cruel to her, seemingly for no good reason. She'd hit her breaking point and fled to the bathroom to cry it out ... at which point two strangers had rocked up, checked on her multiple times, and generally done the dance of most social mammals when a member of their group is in unexplained distress. The two of us had, more or less accidentally, restored her faith in humanity by being worried apes at her. 18 hours later, she was having a much better time, and a lot of it was due to the two of us shoving things under her door.
Anyway, turns out we live about 20 minutes apart, and we're going to meet up for tea after we've recovered from con exhaustion.
So if you ever feel like humans in general and/or fandom humans in particular are irredeemable shits, remember that sometimes the same species who'll ruin your con day will try to slide trail mix and ibuprofen under your stall door in case it helps.
I still don't know what Rose looks like, btw (although apparently she knows what I look like—I mentioned I was in cosplay and she said she'd seen me around). I don't know whether she's cis or trans. So next time you hear someone bitching about trans women in the ladies', feel free to tell them that it never once crossed anybody's mind to ask. If you're crying in the bathroom, you're my sister.
Maybe take the trail mix, though. We apes worry about one another.
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