Someone Else’s Daughter

Having daughters changed the way I think about community. If one of mine were alone somewhere, frightened or in trouble, and I couldn't get to her, I know what I would hope another person might do. I wouldn't expect them to become a hero, solve everything, place themselves in unnecessary danger or somehow know exactly what to do.

I'd just hope they noticed and gave a damn.

I'd hope they didn't automatically decide it wasn't their problem, and that they cared enough to ask if she was okay. That's not a particularly difficult hope to understand as a father. The uncomfortable part comes when I reverse the positions, because somewhere, someday, I will be the stranger in someone else's version of that story.

It might be someone's daughter or son, their parent, friend, colleague or neighbour. I might pass them in a hallway, sit near them on a bus or simply happen to be there when something doesn't seem right. That doesn't give me an unlimited obligation to intervene in other people's lives, and it certainly doesn't mean ignoring boundaries or putting myself or anyone else in unnecessary danger. There will also be times when someone else is far better equipped to help.

But I've come to believe that community exists somewhere between intrusion and indifference. It's built in ordinary moments when nobody is technically required to care, but someone chooses to anyway. Maybe they notice something others have missed, ask a question, give ten minutes they hadn't planned to give or find someone better equipped to help. None of those actions is particularly heroic, and most will probably be forgotten.

Collectively, though, those choices help determine what kind of community we've created. They're the difference between living among people and actually looking out for one another. They're also the kind of small choices I hope strangers would make if one of my daughters ever needed someone and I couldn't be there.

And if that's the kind of community I hope exists for them, then I have some responsibility for helping create it for someone else's.

— Jason Alderson