For a More Family-Friendly Society, Give Up Your Seat

A few months ago, I slid into church late and—by some standards—inappropriately dressed. It had been a stressful weekend, and it was all I could do to show up late in a pair of old jeans that Sunday morning. There was not an open seat to be found, so I stood in the side aisle. After a while, the fatigue of a string of sleepless nights began to overwhelm me. I leaned against a convenient pillar, but that wasn’t enough, so I sat on the cold stone floor. Presently, I felt a tap on my shoulder. A young man I did not know silently offered me his seat. I was greatly touched and felt welcomed, despite my tardiness and untidy clothing. It was a moment of not just physical, but spiritual relief: I had a need, and that need had been met.

Fast forward to this weekend, when I found myself in the same church once again. This time, a young mother with a toddler in tow and a baby strapped to her chest was the one to slide into church late. But of all the many young single people seated near her, not one offered her a seat; neither did any of the more mature men. 

My son and I gave her our seats, and I was happy thus to “pay forward” the courtesy I had received a few months before. But I fell into a bit of a funk over it all. Why did no one else notice this woman? Why were there no other offers of help?

What Happened to Simple Acts of Kindness?

In the past few years, I have noticed how increasingly rare it is for people to help mothers, senior citizens, and other individuals who are clearly in some need while out in public. An older woman using her heels to pull herself slowly along in her wheelchair (will no one offer to push?); a mother holding a baby in one arm and painstakingly unloading her grocery cart at the checkout with the other (can no one lift the watermelon for her?); a single parent struggling with a stroller in the hectic security line at the airport (even a smile would help). 

But not a soul offers. 

It is not true, of course, that no one ever helps. Take the young man who gave me his seat, or the many people of both sexes and all ages who commonly hold doors for each other at restaurants, shops, churches, and doctors’ offices in my hometown. And it is easier, of course, and less risky, to hold a door than to give up a seat or offer to grab the cereal from the highest shelf in the store for a person with a walker. But why do we not do these things more? Why is the occasion of someone giving up a seat something so rare as to merit comment?

We need to make a concerted effort to reestablish social mores of consideration between strangers and acquaintances and in doing so create a more family-friendly society.

There are many possible reasons. Perhaps, in this age of text-and-emoji friendships and conversation-free, online shopping, younger generations have been inadequately socialized into such niceties. Perhaps they either do not notice those who need help, or do not think it their business to help them – or they want to help them, but don’t know how to approach the matter. Perhaps the Covid years increased our inherent hesitancy to take the risk of speaking to a stranger; and perhaps children, during these years, were never taught to hold doors for the old. (My own children were quite good at this before the pandemic, for example, but they had to be retaught come 2022.)

Or perhaps relations between the sexes have become so loaded that men consider it too risky to offer to help a woman, just in case she might take offense or even see a man’s kindly-meant gesture as a threat. A gentleman once apologized to me in the airport, for example, saying he had seen me struggling with my luggage while also helping my young children, but that he had been too nervous to offer to help. As numerous articles in recent years have observed, more and more men share his hesitancy to engage with women in public settings or even in the workplace. As one opinion piece put it, “men are unsure how to interact with women.” Gentlemanly behavior may no longer be accepted.

Or maybe the problem is not only that we hesitate to offer to help, but also that we do not accept help—or are unwilling to ask.

The breakdown of extended family networks has also had an effect. At least in my small town, individuals who are members of large local clans usually receive more frequent help with their needs and responsibilities than families who have less or even no kin nearby. Having extended family present in daily or weekly life comes with its challenges, of course, and places expectations on family members from which more isolated nuclear families are free. Yet we still need better ways to look out for those individuals and families who are left out of the family-help economy.

Give Up Your Seat

In short, we need to look around for those of us who are in need—even those who are in need of little things like a seat. Who around us is not receiving the minor courtesies that so often make all the difference? Perhaps, in this day and age, women must rely on other women for this kind of social help, and men rely on men. And of course, it is right for women to help each other, and for men to help each other, as well. But I regret that men do not (or cannot?) offer seats to women in the way they might once have, for example, or that older children are not expected to give their seats to seniors, nor seniors to look out for well-being of the young.

Fortunately, the solution is in our hands. We need to make a concerted effort to reestablish social mores of consideration between strangers and acquaintances, and in doing so create a more family-friendly society. It is these small acts of generosity that knit a civil society together, and a society that does not expect the strong to be gracious to the needy is a fundamentally vulnerable society of little real strength. If we want a family friendly society that cares for and encourages young parents, babies, the ill, and the elderly, we must be willing to notice the people in need—and yes, sometimes, to give up our seats as we teach our children to do the same.

Dixie Dillon Lane is an American historian and essayist living in Virginia. Her writing can be found at Hearth & Field, Current, and Front Porch Republic, as well as TheHollow.substack.com.

*Photo credit: Shutterstock