People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul; I was able to personally experience this.
One day, my best friend spontaneously invited me to an event he was going to. That afternoon, I participated in a social experiment called Eye Gazing.
We arrived at a plaza in Manhattan, filled to the curb with vibrant people sitting on colorful pillows, a soft buzz in the air as they gently conversed. This sight was unusual; New York streets typically have a never-ending flow of movement, everyone walking quickly, with intention. They tend to keep to themselves, unphased by others around them.
At that plaza, I was told to sit across from anybody with a free space and see how I felt while making continuous eye contact. For some reason, this didn't daunt me as much as I would've anticipated. I didn't want to wait on the sidelines as my friend met all of these lively individuals—I wanted to be involved, to expose myself to these strangers. The first person who caught my eye was a woman with gorgeous red dreadlocks, swirling tattoos down her arms, stacked with sparkling bracelets. I sat down on the second half of her yoga mat, surprisingly confident, introducing myself. I learned her name and a bit about where she was from. Then the eye-gazing began.
We sat in silence, watching each other's pupils dart from left to right. Her evergreen eyes were filled with warmth that matched her fiery hair. For the first time, I was comfortable with a stranger. Soon, we thanked each other and I moved on. I sat down in front of a tan, leathery man, dressed in white linen. I greeted him, and got silence in return.
Dismissing it, I made eye contact with him. For the few seconds that our eyes were locked, I felt brittle, as though he had a firm grip on my soul and could crush it any second. I quickly made my way over to the next person—a woman named Synergy, who had a hot pink mohawk and many piercings. Unlike the previous man, she was full of conversation, and I found myself asking questions and comfortably interacting with someone I had known for mere minutes. We began eyegazing, and her eyes twinkled— I could tell she was a fun, vivacious person. Next, I sat with a jittery old man, who was followed by an interior designer from Mexico, and then a woman from Ecuador, whom I shared a name with.
This experience may paint me as a confident person— which at the time, I was not. I had just started high school, and had hardly any friends. My one-hour commute often consisted of unwelcome butterflies flooding my stomach at the thought of surrounding myself with unfamiliar classmates. Growing up, I was a shy kid struggling to approach people and initiate conversations. All I could do was dip my toes in the water, while children around me were diving headfirst into new friendships.
Through this social experiment, I realized that I have a hard time interacting with strangers when I know there's a possibility of forming a personal connection with them. Making friends was difficult for me—I always worried about the impression I would leave. There, I was unafraid to be myself and learn about the strangers I was drawn to because I’d never see them again, so I wasn't worried about their thoughts on me. I became capable of initiating relationships- I just had to approach people differently. I needed to stop fearing the outcome, and focus on the path.
Although it wasn't my intention, I formed relationships with everyone whose eyes I lost myself in that day. They may not be as intimate as the connections I have with my friends or family, but they actively help me dive into new relationships— I am finally in the water.
Natalie Straton is a third-year Visual and Critical Studies major. In her work, she focuses mainly on mixed-media painting and printmaking.