The Problem With Stereotypes

Glimmers

June 30,2010

Last month I had the opportunity to visit New York City for the first time. I went as part of a three-person training team sent by our denomination to teach at a church in Brooklyn. It was an eye-opening experience.

I used to think that if I met someone nice who was from New York, it was because they were from New York. Based on how New Yorkers are often depicted in television and movies, I assumed former New Yorkers must have had some sort of niceness conversion, a cultural epiphany or personality transplant to be so friendly. I thought all real New Yorkers glared menacingly and barked “Yo, what you lookin’at” and “You talkin’ ta me?” Last month’s brief visit to New York City blew a hole so big in my prejudice you could drive a battleship through it.

After spending the first day teaching at the East Flatbush Church of God, my fellow trainers and I returned to the hotel, changed clothes and headed out to Times Square. On the subway train, just after we passed Jamaica Station, it happened. The three of us, Vernon from Virginia, David from Iowa and I, were looking at subway maps and trying to figure out how best to get to Times Square. The young women in the blue work polo shirt asked, “Where are you wanting to go?” “Times Square,” David replied. We told her we wanted to get some famous New York pizza and see the famous landmark. She told us that 42nd St was the place to get off for Times Square, but if we wanted some really good pizza, we should get off on 52nd, turn right and about halfway down the block on the right, we’d find her favorite place downtown, Ray’s Pizza. We talked with her for a full thirty minutes until it was time for us to get off the train. Shockingly, she was not the last New Yorker we found to be friendly and helpful.

Two more times on successive trips to Manhattan, New Yorkers surprised me. On Friday night as we were transferring to a different train, we heard someone call out, “Hey, someone forgot their cell phone!” Slapping his pocket quickly, David discovered he was the one. Before the subway car doors closed, the nice New Yorker, after demanding he identify it, returned his cell phone to him.

Saturday afternoon, after seeing the sights in lower Manhattan and scooting up to Rockefeller Plaza, we headed through Grand Central Station to catch the subway to Canal Street so as to transfer to the J train and get back to our hotel near JFK. Noticing we looked a little confused, another nice New Yorker offered to help. “That train,” pointing to the Number 5, “might take you there.” “But this one," pointing to the Number 6, "I know will take you there.” She was from Upstate, but came to the city frequently. We thanked her, boarded our train and made it back in plenty of time for David to catch his 4:30 flight.

Prior to my trip, I would never have expected to meet New Yorkers who would go out of their way to help strangers, particularly three strangers with Southern accents (David from Iowa is originally from Alabama). My stereotypes were no match for real New Yorkers.

“What ya gonna do?” “Fogetaboutit.” Indeed.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald