The Perpetual Asterisk

I was walking along Gran Via the other day in downtown Madrid when a woman in 6 inch heels and a white miniskirt approached me. "Querido, te quiero," she said, as she slid her hand around to the side of my waist. Her voice was muted, almost bored. There's was no variation in its tone, no subtle inflections. We did not make eye contact.

I was clearly one in a long line of "Querido"s for the day, one of whom would hopefully accept her thinly veiled proposal so that, at least on an economic basis, her day could be considered a success. As I brushed her arm away and continued walking, I noticed 10 or 12 other women decked out in similar attire, either leaning against receded doorways or canvassing the plaza. Sure, they were dressed to the nines, dolled up with layer upon layer of makeup, but there was something unmistakably pathetic about their endeavor. Most people completely ignored them as they went on with their lives, but a small minority cast withering glances in their direction. There was no glib Roy Orbison playing softly in the background, no Ricardo Gere earnestly searching for his pretty woman.

As I kept walking, I walked by a man on the corner who was quietly asking for something, anything, coins, food, water. Most people completely ignored them as they went on with their lives, but a small minority cast withering glances in their direction. A few seconds later I walked by a restaurant with outdoor tables. Two couples had recently finished their meals. I say finished in a loose fashion; they had decided that they had eaten enough, despite the fact that there were whole cuts of pork, a plate full of rice, and olives left untouched. The busboy came along and cleared the plates' contents into a waiting garbage bin. I didn't have the heart to look back at the man on the corner.

Meanwhile, the plaza was filled with crowds of happy tourists and locals alike, congregating there to catch up on last week's gossip or to plan next week's adventures, ignoring the ugly reality that had decided to share that plaza with them. Among the sprawling boulevards, lush parks, and ritzy restaurants of Madrid there's a group of people who's plight society has conveniently decided to place in the proverbial blind spot. And that's the perpetual asterisk*.

This is not some holier than thou rant. This is not a scathing indictment of the people of Madrid. This is not a doom and gloom essay on how humanity is rotten and apathetic and cruel. This is not a guilt trip. This is not an intentional shot at the heartstrings. This is not some piece of flaneur artistry. This is not a reminder that we live in an imperfect world, for such a statement is obvious.

I do not expect you to go home, liquidate all your assets into cash, and donate it all to Oxfam to save thousands of children in Africa that die every day for want of basic necessities. I do not expect you to write your state senator or mayor or president, asking them to ensure adequate nutrition for the 17.3 million Americans in 2008 who had "very low food security" (up 8.8 million from 2000), although that would be nice (USDA, 2008). I do not expect you to move to a monastery in the mountains, learn the arts of the ninja, don a terrifying mask, and return with a vengeance to become the scourge of pimps worldwide, although that would admittedly be a proactive step.

Instead, I am only asking you to do three things:

1) Buy lunch for a homeless person, prostitute, or beggar. You don't have to eat with them if that makes you nervous, but get them a sandwich, a bag of chips, and some fruit or something. They might not accept it, so if this happens, find another person. They might not say thank you, but I'm sure your self-esteem can survive that hit. They might say thank you and start a conversation, in which case you get to have that warm fuzzy feeling and the chance to hear about someone's life. Cost to you: ~$5, 5 minutes of your time.

2) The next time that you are at a restaurant, observe the portion sizes of your neighbors. Order according to your appetite, not just because it's a great deal if I get the ribs and chicken combo with three sides and a bottomless drink. Then, finish everything you ordered, and stop for a moment to savor just how good it feels to be pleasantly full. Cost to you: you save money, < 5 minutes of your time

3) Most of all, resist a defeatist attitude. I know that feeding one person once is not sustainable. I know that it does not fight the entrenched social ill. I know that it's easy to just say, "meh, prostitution is the world's oldest profession, so whatever". I have no delusions of grandeur about the impact this post will have. I do not think that someone will read it, experience a profound change of heart, and go on to become an international campaigner against poverty and oppression. All I ask is that as you continue with you relatively privileged life, you remind yourself as frequently as possible that there's still work to be done, and that you can play a small but noticeable role in fighting the good fight.

-Clay