KINDNESS

Spending this time of year in London, where I came for a season of studies and professional practice, is truly unforgettable. The streets adorned with festive year-end lights are a gift for the eyes and, for many, the heart as well. The city seems to shed some of its usual unrelenting hustle and embrace a more festive vibe. Everything invites reflection on the year that has passed and, even more, the planning of what lies ahead. The cold, though intense by Brazilian standards, doesn’t deter walking through the streets—whether on foot or via public transport. It merely demands the simple concession of carrying a coat when stepping out. A fair price for something we, as nationals of a culturally influenced country, have learned to admire in others and even incorporate into our own traditions.

As a culturally influenced citizen myself, I take note of the city's diversity while searching for an available seat on the subway before the train departs. Posters advertising every imaginable product and service display smiling faces of models from a wide range of ethnic backgrounds. Ads on the station walls often depict groups of friends, couples, or even interracial families, all with perfect smiles that accompany me through the window until they disappear from view—only to greet me again at the next station, radiant as ever, offering new solutions for a happier life. Around me, whether seated or standing in the moving carriage, I observe duos here and small groups there, seemingly from every corner of the globe, though far less mixed than their counterparts in the ads outside. Focused on their tasks or lost in thought as they travel to their destinations, they appear as a far less glamorous version of the commercials.

I strive to find evidence of real diversity around me—not the curated kind from advertisements. My thoughts wander to São Paulo's subway, teeming with postmodern figures in eccentric clothing, affirming not just their ethnic and cultural identity but also their gender and place in the complex, pluralistic society across the ocean. Superficially, I notice that diversity in this microcosm of London’s subway seems limited to ethnicity. Many women wear burqas or at least hijabs covering their hair, a common sight I’ve grown accustomed to since arriving weeks ago. Asians, often shy unless in larger groups, and immigrants from various origins—forming the backbone of the city’s unskilled workforce—are ever-present.

Local Black Londoners, distinguishable from recent immigrants by their accents and fashion, tend to travel in relatively homogenous groups, though it’s not unusual to see them with companions of other ethnicities.

Turning my attention to passengers' faces, I note how, unlike in Brazil, lingering eye contact with strangers in public seems socially discouraged. Carefully, I indulge my natural curiosity, observing people’s expressions, body language, and interactions.

A man in his thirties, wearing work boots and paint-stained clothes, sprawls across a seat, one leg stretched out, his arm hanging limp as his eyes half-close—perhaps after a long day painting a posh apartment in North London. A teenage girl, likely of Indian or Pakistani descent, sits in a plaid skirt and gray knee socks, seemingly returning from school while perfecting her makeup with the help of an online tutorial. An older gentleman in a beret and scarf stares seriously out the window at the non-existent view. I wonder if he’s troubled by recent medical tests, financial worries, or perhaps one of his children’s marital struggles.

In my clinical practice, I’ve learned to explore the feelings people evoke in me when I connect with them. Indifference, hopelessness, reserve, and fatigue are some of the emotions I reluctantly identify during this brief journey. A trio of likely Eastern European immigrants, engaged in an animated discussion, distracts me. Their gesturing and tone suggest they might be debating politics from their homeland or complaining about a shared boss.

I ponder the diverse life stories of those traveling beside me. What do they have in common? What makes them alike—or at least equivalent—in their existence? Differences are obvious, but perhaps what binds them is this: each carries reasons for their choices and the hopes born from them, longing for understanding and acceptance. Through my profession, I’m privileged to glimpse the most intimate corners of people’s souls. And though I lack definitive theories, I’ve come to believe that nothing connects us more deeply in our humanity than the need to feel understood. Not simply supported or indulged, but genuinely acknowledged, with our desires validated as legitimate—individual and collective. This understanding, I think, ensures the dignity that defines us.

***

I arrive at a poetry recital organized by Doctors of the World (DOTW) UK, which brought together representatives of minorities—mainly African immigrants and Middle Eastern refugees—at King’s College London’s central campus. With intense emotion, they shared literature inspired by open wounds: lives shaped by injustice. The event, titled Do You Hear Me? A Creative Anthology of Poems in Exile, conveyed the pain, fear, and oppression these individuals have endured, especially after The 2024 Summer Riots, a wave of protests by a small group of white Britons opposing their presence. With heartfelt words, they turned horror into literary beauty for an empathetic audience.

Their gentleness is truly remarkable. Rather than responding with retaliation or anger, they share their stories with poetry and gratitude, simply thankful to be heard. Yet, the kindness flows both ways. The audience’s empathy provides both solace and encouragement, creating a powerful exchange of understanding. Hearing someone affirm, 'You’re right; what happened to you was unjust,' can be profoundly transformative. Listening and embracing another’s pain also becomes a deeply revolutionary act of compassion.

One poet, likely named Nwakaego, graciously receives an embrace from a red-haired audience member after the recital. Dressed in a vibrant Nigerian turban, her expression and demeanor radiate forgiveness and acceptance. For a moment, two women—different in culture and background—wash away the world’s hate through their shared humanity.

***

Back on the crowded subway, a Black middle-class couple enters, pushing a stroller and carrying shopping bags. A white elderly woman, distinctly English in appearance, immediately offers them her seat with a warm smile. My heart lifts slightly at this small yet genuine act of kindness.

Kindness is a small promise of peace. No matter how small, I cling to it.

May life, if not easy, at least be kind to us.

Happy new beginnings.

Image source: Wall of Colorful African Fabrics, Cultures Studio, iStock Images