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Before I first experienced Baltimore City’s bus system, I had fears: fears of being kidnapped, fears of being touched, fears of being perceived by my peers as less than. Despite all of my worries, I took advantage of my newfound freedom. When I was in the sixth grade, I would leave school hours after dismissal and get home when it was dark just because I could. Whenever my parents asked, I could just blame the bus.
Now I will tell my story of how the bus stop became my mentor.
I didn’t realize the privilege I had of getting rides until I no longer had that luxury. I have sat on cold bus stop benches, waited in the snow, walked in 90-degree weather to the bus stop and more. What I initially saw as an embarrassment transformed into a learning experience that has greatly shaped the person I am today. The bus stop is where I discovered my love for people-watching. Although that may sound creepy, I have found beauty in people through observing them.
Not growing up with siblings or many family members taught me that I must adapt to my surroundings, which formed my skill of people-watching. At first, I used people-watching as a skill for survival — noticing subtle changes in behavior, attitudes and habits — and used it to my advantage. But on the bus, I learned that I didn’t have to use it as a survival tool. I learned that I simply love observing people and their interactions. On the bus I saw Hispanic people nod their heads unknowingly to avoid saying they don’t understand, I saw old men converse with strangers about the weather and genuinely enjoy their conversations, I saw devoted Christians spread the word of the gospel to their curious neighbors, I saw young couples squeeze their strollers onto the bus, I saw children with freshly pressed hair and new shoes on the laps of a worn-down couple, I saw young men give up their seats on the bus for older women. All of this was so beautiful to me. The bus taught me that there is nothing to be afraid of. I live in Baltimore City, so I’m of course not saying that nothing dangerous ever happens, because that would simply be a lie. But, my experiences on the bus encompassed more than just misfortune.
Every now and then on the bus, there is a man who doesn’t know how to behave, or a drug-consumed person who has lost their way. I have been barked at by boys, swiped at by junkies and received sexually explicit comments from older men. I have missed the bus, I have waited in the snow for the bus, buses have been canceled, the bus after the canceled bus has been canceled, and many more problems have occurred during my years of taking the bus. But, the bus stop is also where I met my neighbor’s sweet grandfather. The bus stop is where I have helped someone get home whose phone had died. The bus stop is where a drunk man gave me his jacket in the rain. The bus stop is where I allowed myself to be vulnerable to this city and realized that I don’t have to keep my head on a swivel all the time. The bus stop is where I met a grandmother who said I favor Gabrielle Union. The bus stop is where I met a God-fearing woman who prayed over me and invited me to her church.
The bus stop became one of my greatest teachers, shaping me into the person I am today. It introduced me to the raw, unfiltered beauty of people in this city. The bus stop has tested my patience, strengthened my awareness and deepened my empathy. It has shown me that survival is not the only lens to view the world.
Empress Rasheem is a junior at Western High School in Baltimore, where she is president and founder of the school’s journalism club and its student newspaper, Empower(HER).
