#halting

The currency is emotional regulation, curiosity and empathy for others, a pause in our schedule, catching ourselves in our reactions so that we can purposefully assume good intent in the others, purposefully remembering that this interaction is separate from other interactions we've had elsewhere.

So I thought of a metaphor: a toll bridge between the island of isolation and the mainland of community.

The bridge needs all our contributions to keep it standing, so anyone who uses this bridge needs to pay the toll. If we all pay, it keeps the price fairly low.

But some of us have a monthly account auto-deducted from our well-funded bank account. We pay the toll by having cameras scan our license plates and we don't even notice we're paying it as we stay in the "fast" lane and drive along. This is an analogy for people who have social dominance, a comfortable life, a lot of friends and supporters, and a lot of examples of kindness towards them in their own day to day life. It's super easy to pay this toll to be in community. We think nothing of it. It's feels effortless. But it is a cost.

Some of us pay it using a debit card, from an account that might not be flush. This is an analogy for anyone who is feeling tired, hungry, lonely, irritable from some other situation, sick or recovering, injured or in chronic pain. This is also an analogy for people who used to be flush but had a sudden large cost (medical emergency, paid a big amount for a family member or friend's benefit, a taxing vacation) and you aren't quite sure how to afford this payment. We carefully add this line item of kindness to our budget and hope the debit card doesn't cause the account to bounce later. But we pay it, because we want to be in community.

Some of us pay the toll with cash and coins. Some of us are used to this and have a routine ready with the cash in a special compartment, and we're used to the slow-down of pulling into the special lane. Some of us weren't expecting it and so have to dig up the money from the bottoms of the glove compartment or fumble past the seatbelt for our pockets and get in people's way as we switch lanes to figure out where we're supposed to be. Some of us aren't in a car, and it's extra awkward to fish out the cash as we balance a bicycle or adjust our hiking pack as others whiz past. This is an analogy for people with awkward neurology, who need masking to not be ostracized, or are impulsive and have to backtrack a lot. People with head injuries, or developmental disabilities. People who experience persistent oppression and are always on guard against Nice or Polite that's hiding cruelty, but still want to connect. So we pay the cost to be kind, because we want to be in community. It's worth it, even though it's expensive for us and painful or tiring to pay.

Some of us don't bother paying. Some of us just stay in the fast lane, racking up 'ticket' after 'ticket' (uncomfortable or boundary-crossing interaction) that are quietly sent by mail after the license plates are scanned, and simply don't pay them. Some of us jump turnstiles but expect the bridge to be there any time we want it. Some of us are absolutely fucking shocked that any social enforcement would pull us over and demand accountability for not paying. The bridge is here, after all, we should just be allowed to use it! Or, alright, fine, some of us will just pay all these past tickets with one lump apology and isn't that good enough? Maybe it is good enough to repair the wear and tear. Maybe we can get reminders to pay the toll instead of skipping it.

That has a cost, too. And it adds up. It adds up to where we're not allowed to use the bridge any more and we have to find a new path from our island of isolation to a different community mainland.

Or

There's so much wear and tear on the bridge from so many people not paying the toll that the community breaks and no one can access it any more.

But there is definitely a cost to be kind. To be a good person.