The Hidden Smile

When you cannot see another person’s smile, you only see their fear. Or perhaps you don’t actually see it but convince yourself that you did, and simultaneously convince yourself that you were not convincing yourself.

I don’t know if it is just be but I have become to be more sceptical of people. I am sceptical when I meet kind people in places I should not. I am sceptical when something is going so well (notwithstanding my clumsiness). I am sceptical when my arms do not spasm as often as they might in light with my disability. And of course I am sceptical of people in power (for .some reason I felt I had to add this).

This scepticism has often served me well in helping me evade scams (flashback to Dec 2019 when the HMRC-related scams targeting universities ran rampantly). Nothing secular is free in this world. (Note the use of the word “secular”). While I could technically make an argument that tax refunds are not something free but something of our right, doing so would run contrary to the theme of this blog.

Scepticism has also been an “inherited” trait from my family members whose salt has taught them to be wise in deciding who to trust. Out of respect I have always took them at their word, and very seldom has this disadvantaged me.

But today, I feel like this scepticism is hardening me. Every drop of distrust I have is like a numbing agent that weakens the pain receptors in my veins. (I am aware this metaphor is neither chemically nor biologically correct but please bear with me, for I am a law student.) Every “please” and “thank you” feels like feigned politeness and gratuity. Every request feels demeaning despite how gentle the tone. People seemed insincere, and a genuine smile was a rare sight, and now the species has become extinct.

It its place lies scepticism. It seems as if the coronavirus has ingrained a sense of scepticism within all of us. We are suspicious of everyone around us. Does this guy have the virus? Was he around someone who did? When I first came to the UK I was warned about scepticism based on race and nationality. I faced mild amounts of this race/nationality related mistreatment, though nothing as dreadful as some others have. I was not happy when it happened, but it was still tolerable. The perpetrators would be punished by law and even if they aren’t, we know that moral consensus is on our side. Worded differently, their scepticism based on these characteristics was unjustified.

However, coronavirus gives us a reason to be sceptical. There are varying degrees on how justified this scepticism is, but some truly are. Think of an elderly person forced to go out and get groceries on her own. She has to be careful, maintain the 2m distance rule, and be alert with regards to what those around her are doing. And since there is no way of telling who has the symptoms, she has to be conscious of every person that passes by regardless of whether they are infected or not. I’ve experienced this myself when I noticed that an old lady was I watching me carefully as I shopped for groceries in Co-op. I eyed a carton of apple juice and the end of the aisle and darted towards it (the marriage allusion was unintended). Right at that moment she hastily took a few paces back as though we were dancing a fast paced cha-cha. There was fear in her eyes though she didn’t dare look me in mine. It is crucial that I note two things at this point: 1) that I was empathetic to her fear and 2) I am in no way convinced that her action amounted to discrimination on the basis of a characteristic I possess. But in a way – and absolutely not to the fault of my dance partner – this treatment was more dissapointing.

In an ever-growing individualistic and self-centred world we have a good reason to be sceptical of everyone. I am leaving the UK for Malaysia today and as I weighed my luggage at the Baggage drop-off, I discovered it was 2.5 kg heavier than my weight allowance. I was prepared to pay the cost of the difference but the lady just smiled and gestured that it was fine. It took me awhile, though I earnestly prayed to Jesus for it, to be grateful for her cincai-ness, which is Malaysian slang with an English suffix mutated upon it to describe a willingness to be lax about marginal issues (which hasn’t always worked out in our favour, but that is an issue for another blog). Again, I was grateful. Trust me I was. But I didn’t feel it. I was just too sceptical that people in the airport would be sceptical of me. Was I some kid who is slowing things down by frivolous rule breaking putting the already shorthanded airport staff at risk? If a genuine smile was not to be expected by me, what more a kind gesture?

Some of you may have caught my error here. That the genuine smile hasn’t actually gone “extinct” but it is merely hidden. That is the title of this blog and the ‘hit-home’ message I hope my readers will get. They should, since everyone is at home after all!

Hidden things are not bad. Instead, they can bring great joy. Think surprise party, how diminished would the fun be if an agenda of it was produced and circulated to the target of the party. Or if for a brief moment I am allowed to use my romantic side, if a girl shyly covers part of her face with a scarf and giggles, revealing her beauty by physically ‘hiding’ it. Or what about treasures, hidden in jars of clay, which at first we do not realise its value but later upon discovery of it, would give up our lives for.

For now, we mask our smiles, literally. And again this is entirely reasonable. I am wearing a mask as I type this blog. It has made me more sceptical, and that is a bad thing. It is a challenge now for me to not be hardened, and not lose hope. I am blessed by daily reminders of what is meaningful in life from friends at church, my parents and various articles written by dedicated and sound theologians. It is a blessing to have a system of accountability that keeps me, well, accountable.

For now, our smiles are hidden, but not extinct. Soon our masks will be removed, and what is hidden would be revealed. I look forward to witness the wide smile we shall have when the day comes.