When I was 18, I moved almost 200 miles away from home in pursuit of my dreams. I went from being a part of a small, tight-knit community nestled in the heart of North-West England to living in London, the capital and a bustling city, packed with tourists and residents alike.
Three years later, I have no doubt that I’m in the right city for me. I’ve learnt and adopted a lot of London mannerisms – for better and sometimes, for worse. I would be lying if I told you that London is the kindest city – it’s not. It’s driven, it’s passionate, it’s bold and full of energy, but kind? It’s definitely a work in progress.
Here are some ways I’ve seen kindness in one of the most individualist cultures of the world:
Where I’m from, we always say ‘thank you’ to bus drivers when we get to our stop. It’s one of those habits that just feels right, to show gratitude as you walk past the driver and out the doors. In London’s iconic red buses, it’s rare to hear someone thank the driver. In fact, the buses here have two sets of doors – one at the front, near the driver, for when you get on, and one at the rear for getting off, so you don’t actually see the driver as you leave! To combat this, it’s part of my routine to half-shout ‘THANK YOU!’ before I step off to make sure the driver hears me. And often, it makes the next few people say thank you too. Kindness is contagious.
The London Underground, affectionately nicknamed ‘The Tube,” is notorious for having one of the most busy and hectic commuter rush hours. Some tube lines even have a train scheduled every minute to try and cope with the additional stress when it feels like almost everyone in the city is trying to get home from work or school. One thing that always makes me smile is seeing the change when a quarter-full train gets to a busy station just as rush hour begins. The tube doors open and suddenly everything shifts. Those commuters slouching into the next seat quickly sit up. Bags are hurriedly pulled from seats and onto laps. Even headphones are adjusted to try and make room for more people to squeeze on the train. Then it happens so quickly. I see a stranger gently pull on another’s bag to make sure it doesn’t get trapped in the doors, and I see that kindness also exists in quiet actions. Even though it’s uncomfortably warm on the tube, kindness exists in consideration.
A dear friend of mine always carries breakfast bars in her bag – no matter the time of the day. What some may see as a quick snack on-the-go for her is actually an invitation. I’ve seen how these individually-wrapped, energy-dense bars have started conversations with strangers, and supported friends so busy they’ve forgotten to sit down and eat. Now, breakfast bars are a reminder to me that kindness can also be about small, inexpensive things we give to others.
I used to think that kindness came from a place, just spouted from the ground and enveloped its people like a warm hug. I thought that certain places were kind and caring and that others just weren’t. However, we shouldn’t restrict the manifestations of kindness, it just isn’t that simple. I’ve learnt that kindness doesn’t just come to us, but rather comes from us. A culture of kindness is not a manifestation of a place, a town, a city, but rather it’s something that we, its people, invest in.
I believe that we all have a responsibility to create a culture of kindness, no matter where we are, and I hope you can take an action or two with you.
