Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 70

“For the longest time it was impossible to calm her down. She...

“For the longest time it was impossible to calm her down.  She was a baby you always had to carry.  She hated the stroller.  She hated the car seat.  She’d scream for the entire journey.  On the bus people would always stare at us.  I tried not to pay attention, but whenever somebody expressed concern, I’d immediately pick her up.  I knew that she was perfectly fine.  But I was afraid of how it seemed.  So I always gave in, and I sustained the behavior.  Toddlers are really smart, especially Fate.  So she learned that if she kept pushing, eventually she’d get her way.  It wore us down.  My husband and I were so tired.  And eventually we had to say: ‘It stops here.’  The stroller was the hardest, because the rest you don’t do in public.  I took her to the supermarket shortly after we made the decision.  And she was screaming.  I kept my calm.  I was wearing my headphones.  But after a few minutes, a woman came charging up to me.  She yanked my headphones out of my ear.  She started yelling at me.  ‘I’ve been watching you for fifteen minutes,’ she said.  ‘Why don’t you talk to her?  Why don’t you pick her up?’  Before that moment, I’d always suspected people were judging me.  But it was the first time anyone had spoken up.  And honestly, it was the moment I stopped caring about what others think.  It’s my daughter.  I know that she’s safe.  I know that she’s OK.  I’m preparing her to live.  To be a fruitful adult.  And life isn’t about getting what you want.”
(Amsterdam, The Netherlands)

“I grew up in a very strict household. I had to dress in a...

“I grew up in a very strict household.  I had to dress in a modest way.  I couldn’t drink.  Couldn’t stay out late.  And my family certainly wouldn’t want me marrying a non-Muslim.  Especially a white guy.  It’s not even possible to have an Islamic wedding with a non-Muslim.  But he’s made it clear that he’s not willing to convert.  And I understand his position.  We were just talking about our future yesterday.  I know the situation bothers him.  He wants me to commit.  He wants me to be clear, and say that none of this matters, and that I’m willing to lose everything to be together.  But it’s not that easy.  My uncles would turn away from me.  My aunts would turn away from me.  I’ve seen it happen to other members of my extended family.  I’d like to think that my mom would never leave my side, but she’s a people pleaser, so I can’t be sure.  My father divorced her.  And she’s been carrying that shame all her life.  So I’m not sure if she can handle any more.  Right now I feel like I’m living two lives.  I went home for Eid and it felt like I was living a lie.  I’m not sure what to do.  I know he thinks I’m doubting our relationship.  But it’s not like that at all.  I wouldn’t have invested this much time if I didn’t want to be together.  And I’m willing to do it.  I’m willing to tell the whole world, and my family, and have them never speak to me again.  But in the back of my mind, I can’t help asking myself: ‘Why won’t he convert?  Just for a minute.  He doesn’t have to follow.  But that way I can tell everyone that we’re Muslims.  Why am I the one that has to make the sacrifice?’”
(Amsterdam, The Netherlands)

“I grew up in an orphanage with only boys. I always wanted to...

“I grew up in an orphanage with only boys.  I always wanted to learn some type of fighting.  But I got married and had kids, so I just never had the time.  But when I turned forty, and all the kids were finally grown, I decided to learn Judo. There weren’t many women in the class.  A few girls came in, but they never lasted.  They’d get married, have children, and eventually drop out.  But I kept going.  I became a brown belt.   I’d spar against men.  Sometimes new people would wonder what the old lady was doing there, but they learned soon enough.  I only stopped a few months ago.  But I’m still strong.  Feel my arms.  Notice I’m sitting alone right now.  I’m not afraid.  Everyone knows not to mess with me.  They can see in my eyes that I’m not scared.  I may be eighty-six but I could lift you off the ground and throw you over my shoulder right now.”
(Amsterdam, The Netherlands)

“I was like an ‘incel’ kid. I’d never had a girlfriend. I’d...

“I was like an ‘incel’ kid.  I’d never had a girlfriend.  I’d only had sex with prostitutes.  I was very suicidal.  Then one day I was standing next to a cute girl at a bus stop, and I googled: ‘How to approach women.’  That’s when I came across a forum for pick-up artists.  It’s exactly what I’d been looking for.  It seemed like a cure for my autism.  I watched all the videos I could find.  I started working out at a gym.  I’d spend all day approaching women.  Soon I was only hanging out with other pick-up artists.  They respected me.  They wanted to learn from me.  Finally there was something I was good at.  Right now I have over one thousand numbers in my phone.  It’s a bit like gambling.  Sometimes it goes well.  Sometimes it doesn’t.  But you always have the chance for sex.  There are so many tricks to learn.  Women have emotional brains.  They get addicted to feelings.  You can use that to your advantage.  The first time you meet her, tell her she looks amazing.  But never give her a full compliment again.  She’ll always chase that validation.  It’s like a drug.  Tell her ‘she looks beautiful for her age.’  Tell her ‘she looks good in this lighting.’  Keep her insecure with half compliments.  Keep her feeling like there’s something wrong with her.  Like she’s not good enough for you.  Like she needs sex for validation.  Of course it’s manipulation, but why should I care?  I’ve been manipulated so many times in my life.”
(Amsterdam, The Netherlands)

“I had four chairs refurbished this morning And I couldn’t help...

“I had four chairs refurbished this morning  And I couldn’t help but think, what’s the point?  I don’t have much longer to live.  I’m already seventy-six.  I never even expected to live beyond sixty.  I think sixty is a pretty good age for life to terminate.  It would certainly clear out some room for younger generations.  Everything deteriorates after sixty, anyway.  After that we’re just old plants being kept alive with extra fertilizer.  The pains get worse every day.  It’s not natural.  Think of the millions of people sitting in retirement homes right now.  Nothing to do.  No future to look forward to.  It’s no way to live.  Everyone needs a pill.  That would be great.  Enjoy your life as long as you want, but the moment the pain becomes too much, it’s in your hands to stop it.”
(Amsterdam, The Netherlands)

“He’d taken charge of so much during our relationship. He was...

“He’d taken charge of so much during our relationship.  He was twelve years older than me, so he made all the decisions: where to go, what to eat, what we were going to buy.  He didn’t even like me working.  So when he died my life was a mess, literally.  I wasn’t quite a hoarder, but close.  There was laundry everywhere.  The couch was covered with worn shirts.  You couldn’t even find a spoon on the table.  I couldn’t stand it, so I left it all behind.  I travelled for two years, living off the life insurance, running from misery.  But I kept losing my passport.  Over and over again.  It infuriated me.  And that’s how I finally became orderly.  By getting so angry that I couldn’t take it anymore.  I began with my luggage.  I organized everything.  I made a place for my papers and keys.  Oh, it felt good.  I loved it.  I could finally relax.  To be organized is to be at rest.  You should see my home now! It’s immaculate.  Everything has a place.  All the clothes are put away.  I actually use a catalogue to fold them so they’re all the same size.  I love every little detail.    Organizing has become my art.  It’s how I express myself.   In February I’m going to the butler academy.  It’s a lottery ticket.  It’s my dream job.  I want to live in a beautiful house, together with a family, and take care of them.  I want to take away all the chaos in their life.  To order things.  To arrange things.  To be the one who always has the passports.”
(Amsterdam, The Netherlands)

“I’m seventeen. I’m doing my best to convince myself that we’re...

“I’m seventeen.  I’m doing my best to convince myself that we’re all beautiful in our own way, but it’s not so easy.  I look at all the pretty things my friends have: their bodies, their lips, how they wear their hair, or their make-up, even their personalities.  Some have such pretty personalities.  I wish I could be one of those people who laugh and talk for hours without stopping.  Instead I just hide in the back of class and try not to draw attention to myself.  I wear baggy clothes.  Anything not to be noticed.  But I’m trying to change.  I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone.  I’m searching for plus-sized models online.  Women who are bigger, but still confident and beautiful.  I’m wearing less black.  I never used to wear colors because they emphasize your curves.  But now I’m wearing colors.  I even wore a dress recently.  Not to school, of course, but to dinner with my grandparents.  It was blue and had white flowers.  My dream is to eventually go to the beach.  The water was such an important part of my childhood.  My grandparents had a little beach house and we’d go every summer.  But I haven’t been to a beach in over five years.  Well, I did go once.  But I sat on the shore, and watched everyone’s stuff, and took their photos for Instagram.  Next time I’d like to actually go in the water.  Wearing a swimsuit.  If I can do that, and have the time of my life, and feel that I’m allowed to show myself, my insides and my outsides—then I’ll know I’m finally where I want to be.”
(Amsterdam, The Netherlands)

“I’ve got four other children. But Amy and I are bonded at the...

“I’ve got four other children.  But Amy and I are bonded at the hip.  She’s my best friend.  We live with each other.  We’re part of each other.  That’s life with cerebral palsy.  I do get on her nerves every once in awhile, but you can imagine what it’d be like if you were thirty-six and still stuck with your dad.  She makes fun of me a lot.  She’s very cheeky.  She doesn’t let life get on top of her even though she’s been dealt a bad set of cards.  I just want her to be happy and have everything she wants to achieve.  I know she really wants a relationship.  She even wrote a lovely song about it called ‘Maybe In My Next Life.’  Her mum and I are always here, but that’s a different thing.  I know she’d love to have somebody to look after.  She’s just got so much to give. So much love to share.”
“Plus a woman has her needs!”
(London, England)

“I grew up in Hungary. Back then we were cut off from the...

“I grew up in Hungary.  Back then we were cut off from the world.  We could only visit other socialist countries.  We were always told: ‘The country you live in is enough.  You don’t need more. Everything coming from the outside is not good.’  So we were always ten years behind in music.  But if you stayed up late, you could listen to an underground radio station from Germany.  The frequency barely came through.  But I would listen in the kitchen when my parents were asleep.  And if Pink Floyd came on, and you managed to record it, it was like gold.  You could trade the tape with your friends.  My older sister left Hungary when I was nine.  She didn’t tell anyone.  The police came and questioned our entire family.  They called her a dissident.  But she’d send me packages from the other side of the Iron Curtain: chocolate, dolls, cool t-shirts.  She sent me so many different kinds of things.  In our shops at home we only had two choices: this or that.  But my sister seemed to live in a place where she could choose anything.  And I also wanted to choose.  So when I turned twenty-two I hitchhiked to London.  And when I arrived, I found choices everywhere.  You could buy anything.  Study anything.  Wear anything.  It’s not that I wanted something specific.  It had nothing to do with greed.  It’s about choice. It’s about knowing that if you want something badly enough, you can get it.  It’s an energy.  The energy of knowing that the option is there.”
(London, England)

“I quit my job for the first three months of this year and...

“I quit my job for the first three months of this year and travelled with my husband.  It wasn’t exactly a mid-life crisis, but it was definitely a point in time.  I had just been going through the motions.  Getting through day-to-day.  And suddenly I realized that there were so many cultures and parts of the world that I hadn’t experienced first hand.  I’d been on vacations, but never more than two weeks.  This was something different.  It was a long enough time that days drifted into one another.  We couldn’t tell weekends from weekdays.  There was no routine.  We walked around a lot.  We met a lot of great people.  We were on a really tight budget, so we didn’t do anything fancy.  But there was a lot of peace: existing in the moment, forgetting about the future, not getting caught up in the ‘what if’s.’  I had thought that three months would be enough to get the traveling bug out of my system.  But then I came back to London, and I hit the rat race, and everything is driven by money.  There’s always this feeling of not having achieved enough.  Of putting in one hundred percent and still being behind.  Of living toward a paycheck, knowing that paycheck will determine what you can do to be happy.  I do want the security.  I just wish I could retain some of that sanity I felt while traveling.  It’s so hard to find peace in this environment.  You’re being pulled by so many small things, things so small that you don’t even notice, until you step away from them completely.”
(London, England)