Conversations can become a lot more meaningful once we stop treating strangers like extras.
Sonder is the feeling you get when you realize everyone has as a life as complex and real as your own—one where they’re the main central character and everyone else has secondary or non-existent roles.
I first experienced this over lockdown when reconnecting with friends after not hearing from them for a while. They would explain their lockdown experiences in vastly different ways, with some exclaiming their love for staying home all day while others only talked about how much they hated it, giving me a glimpse into the rich and detailed lives they were experiencing independently of me while I lived mine.
It feels cliche for me to present sonder as some insanely profound topic, as it was essentially the go-to “deep” subject my friends and I would talk about in Grade nine. While it’s something that might have once been revolutionary to think about, the initial profundity quickly fades as most people understand everyone else has a unique and complex life.
However, I do think a much more interesting realization can arise after you experience sonder yourself¾a realization that doesn’t just provide a couple minutes or hours of introspective thought but rather encourages a deeper change in your own actions.
While sonder came at a much younger age, this realization didn’t follow until later, not until I came to university.
Since coming to university and meeting new people, I’ve grown an acute understanding of how I treat people, particularly strangers. I’ve noticed I have a very standard, polite, and relatively dull way of treating people I don’t know, which has prevented my actual personality from coming out. While I don’t think the way I was acting was something unique to me, as most people adopt a similar demeanor, I think mine was especially potent.
This behaviour was in stark contrast to how I act with people I know well, as I tend to be pretty outspoken and talkative. I began to wonder why this discrepancy existed. I didn’t think it was social anxiety or general introversion, as I’ve always enjoyed being around and interacting with others.
The only time I noticed my usual stranger facade slipping was when I met people who didn’t play along with the usual social formalities—those who skipped the small talk and acted as if we’d been friends for years right from the start. These were the kind of people you might meet randomly in a bar lineup or through a close friend, the ones who would immediately joke or make comments you wouldn’t typically make with a stranger.
My conversations with these kinds of people always felt more real and interactive—we weren’t discussing something mind-numbing like how we can’t wait for it to be Friday.
These people showed me the way I’ve been treating others isn’t some rule that I’ve followed but instead stemmed from my ill-informed view on others.
Whenever I met someone new, I didn’t consider the fact that they’ve probably had a lot of the same experiences as me, likely enjoyed doing some of the same things in their free time, had interesting perspectives on various topics, and all the other aspects that made them human. I only saw what they presented to me in our limited interactions. I wasn’t inquisitive, making it difficult to see these strangers as anything more than just strangers.
The wall I put up in front of strangers, which was absent in front of people I knew, existed simply because I wasn’t taking a personal approach to meeting new people—I didn’t recognize their individuality.
This is when sonder works back into my overall realization—since I don’t know a stranger’s past or day-to-day life, I never considered they’re living a just as complex and intricate life as I am, full of many interesting things to have genuine conversations about.
As obvious as this sounds, I don’t think many people really consider this when speaking with strangers. Whether it’s our natural semi-selfish instinct to focus on ourselves or just the fact that we all have many things on our minds, most people aren’t actively thinking of all the things going on in a stranger’s life which makes them both interesting and easier to empathize with.
This became especially clear to me when my friend told me he was scared he’d have nothing to talk about on a first date. In reality, he had literally everything and anything to talk about.
After finally coming to this conclusion, it began to shape how I treated strangers. It wasn’t drastic, but becoming more authentic in my interactions and engaging in conversations that went beyond small talk felt refreshing.
Instantaneously, I felt my conversations with people improve. I noticed everyone I spoke with reciprocated my inquisitive energy and seemed to enjoy not having to engage in a persona they only upkeep around strangers.
This isn’t to say that small talk has no place, sometimes it’s unavoidable. However, I think we could all benefit from more authentic interactions that come from a place of genuine curiosity and interest in one another. I think we’re all tired of those step-by-step interactions we all endure—like asking someone’s name, program, residence, and hometown in first year.
Fit in a more relaxed joke, tell a stranger what you genuinely think and not just what they want to hear, and reduce those robotic “it’s pretty warm out today” interactions—it’ll remind the other person you’re a real human too.
I’m not suggesting we should skip all the formalities with strangers and pretend everyone’s our best friend—however, I will suggest everyone should take the opportunity to demonstrate their humanity in conversation with someone you don’t know yet.
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