Everyone seems to be getting too comfortable with silence. I don’t want to sound like a mother whose automatic response to every complaint her child expresses is “It’s because of that damn phone.” But in actuality, it really is because of that damn phone.
I’m as attached to my phone as any other person nowadays, but I’m definitely not okay with this — in fact, I can’t fathom how normalized this behavior has become post-pandemic. Why do I feel the need to scroll on my phone as I walk to my car in a parking lot? Do I really need to make those 45 seconds go by even faster?
You would think this means that everyone now is actually uncomfortable with silence, given the habits of many to listen to music and podcasts (through headphones) 24/7, or mindlessly doom scroll in times when they need to drown out the silence. To me, this is being comfortable with silence — the silence in this context being a lack of human to human interaction.
When you’re waiting at a doctor’s office, you don’t want to talk to any of the other people in the waiting area. And when you’re in line at a clothing store, you don’t want to socialize with the other people next to you in line. Your first instinct is to whip out that damn phone…because God forbid you actually talk to someone around you to pass the time.
As someone who’s decently outgoing and also hates awkward silence, I find myself eager to talk to people around me in a lot of situations. Some of the most memorable and fulfilling interactions I’ve had in my life stemmed from sparking up conversations with strangers, whether it be somewhere as mundane as the grocery store, or a city I was traveling to at the time. And many of the strangers who have approached me, for whatever reason, have no idea how appreciative I am for their courage.
It sounds far-fetched to even describe someone talking to a stranger as ‘courageous,’ but think about how often it actually happens to you, or how often you do it. It’s rare these days.
Before social media and dating apps, people had to live like this. If you didn’t find the love of your life or good friends in school or work, you had to put yourself out there.
I’m not saying you should go up to every random person you see and overshare about your life story to them; social cues undoubtedly need to be considered. But in many cases when you do approach, you’ll find that the other person was just as eager for a conversation as you were. There’s something beautiful about those brief, but meaningful interactions you have with people you don’t know, like with the barista at your local coffee shop; the idea of you not being on your phone every second and actually talking to people just for the hell of it. But the concept of living in the present and enjoying life without phones seems so unattainable at this point, and that alone has made me even more determined to talk to people and break that silence.
One of my favorite things in media right now is a video series called Subway Takes, hosted by Egyptian American comedian Kareem Rahma. What I adore about it is how simple the format — no crazy production or anything — yet valuable the content is. All he does is invite a guest while he’s riding the subway in New York, ask them what their hot take is, and discuss it with them, ultimately leading to other conversations.
The idea of going to a place like the subway where everyone just wants to get to where they need to be without feeling bothered, and then enthusiastically discussing niche topics for everyone to hear is fascinating to me. Because yes — we should be talking to each other in moments like this. And it should not be perceived as annoying or bothersome. Why wouldn’t I want to pass the time commuting this way instead of refreshing my Instagram feed for the millionth time?
There’s a reason everyone preaches about networking if you want to get places in your career. To me, this is networking in a nonprofessional sense. I might get something valuable and unpredictable out of it. Even if I don’t, at least my screen time is lower.