Random acts of human humiliation

MARY NERSESSIAN takes a page from a new book that recommends reaching out and touching others -- whether they want to be hugged or not

'Gee whiz, you can't even give them away for free," one woman commented as she walked past me in the rush of commuter traffic. Her eyes rested briefly on my sign advertising "Free Hugs" at one of the busiest street corners in downtown Toronto, but she didn't take me up on the offer.

I smiled wanly, and clutched the sign closer to my chest -- a pathetic substitute for a security blanket.

When I lifted it higher to attract more attention, the sea of people parted down the middle as if by divine command, leaving me untouched -- and unhugged.

The tall businessman with pockmarked skin in the customary blue suit stared at me curiously and grinned when he caught my eye, but shook his head when I ventured, "Hello, would you . . . ?" One middle-aged woman's lip turned up in a patronizing grimace.

But for the most part, eye contact with passersby was rare and fleeting, and if I moved closer, their shoulders tensed pre-emptively. Two tourists snapped photos of me. (Look, Ma, a friendly Torontonian caught on film!) But still, no one stopped.

Trying to establish, never mind maintain, a connection left me feeling slightly breathless and desperate. I was beginning to feel as faceless as the plastic road pylons. And as if rush-hour congestion couldn't get any worse outside Union Station, throngs of people stepped off the sidewalk and onto the road just to avoid me. By this time, I was convinced a police officer would arrest me for traffic violations.

This was not working out the way I had planned. I was following in the footsteps of the Kindness Crew, four Canadian men who had travelled across Canada on an Extreme Kindness Tour for three months in 2002, offering hugs, shovelling snow and entertaining children in hospitals. They were partly inspired by Catherine Ryan Hyde's book Pay it Forward, which later became a Hollywood film starring Kevin Spacey.

The same day I was trying to better one corner of Toronto with spontaneous acts of kindness, the Kindness Crew were in town promoting their new book Cool to be Kind: Random Acts and How to Commit Them.

Research shows these acts are beneficial.

In The Healing Power of Doing Good, author Allan Luks cites a survey of more than 3,000 volunteers working at 20 organizations. They reported feeling a "helper's high" after performing kind acts, a feeling of euphoria and tranquillity that wiped away stress. Mr. Luks wrote, "Helping contributes to the maintenance of good health, and it can diminish the effect of diseases and disorders both serious and minor, psychological and physical."

Another study of 2,700 men in Tecumseh, Mich., cited in Dave Toycen's book The Power of Generosity, suggests regular acts of kindness help extend your life span. The men who did not volunteer regularly had death rates 2½ times higher than those who did.

I couldn't help but worry that my own endeavour might actually be harmful to my health. Given the crowds elbowing past me in their rush to get home, if anyone had been harbouring a germ that might bring on another SARS outbreak I would sorely regret ever having taken this assignment.

Eventually, though, I regained my confidence. What did I have to lose? Only my pride -- and I had lost that 15 minutes into this, when I pressed a "You have a nice smile" note on a sweaty man who refused it with a "No thanks, Sweetie."

I began foisting my sticky notes with positive messages -- all themes on the same variation (you look nice, have a nice day, you have a nice smile) -- on passersby. Some crumpled them within seconds, others flinched and retreated in panic when I invaded their personal space. I was a social leper. Just another sidewalk kook.

Finally, I caught the eye of a woman who seemed familiar. She stopped. "Hi, don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Um, yeah, I am doing random acts of kindness," I said. "I think we went to school together."

She smiled pityingly and offered me a hug. One down! After she walked away, I remembered to yell out, "This is for The Globe and Mail, I'm writing about it." But she was long gone.

Then, an older woman who had taken a "You have a nice smile" note came back to reciprocate the message and hugged me. Her name was Juanita -- the only stranger out of at least 300 people to offer me a hug.

Cue Jann Arden's Unloved on my inner stereo on repeat. And it's still playing.

But where I repelled people, the Kindness Crew told me they were well received on the same day at another busy intersection -- Yonge and Dundas Streets outside the Eaton Centre, where they waved colourful signs stapled to hockey sticks that read "E-mail me, I'll scrub your toilet" or reminded passersby to call their mothers.

"What did I do wrong?" I asked Kindness Crew member Val Litwin.

"You have to radiate some pretty incredible energy. Part of the reason we are so successful is that we are addicted to kindness and it shows," he said, adding that they are usually goofing around and trying to bring humour to the setting.

Was he hinting that I may not have shown incredible energy and that I was not a kindness addict? "In a city where there are no small-town values, you really have to put yourself out there more," he said. "People in Toronto are probably not given enough credit."

Was it unkind to disagree? Having grown up in the city, I know Torontonians can be a jaded lot. When I first began attending Ryerson University, a beaming petite woman approached me once, stickers in hand. "Sticker for the pretty lady," she said in a sing-song voice as she reached toward me.

I leaped to the other side of the sidewalk just in time to hear her cornering another passerby and asking for change.

Crew member Chris Bratseth reassured me about my poor start. Even those who were not open to receive acts of kindness may still look back, reflect on the experience and wish they had responded differently, he said.

At the time, though, most of the people I encountered just looked bewildered. For my final attempt to make people happy, I left about $10 with a nearby hot-dog vendor and watched as the next few customers were told that their hot dogs had been paid for.

The responses were varied. One young man pulled his baseball cap lower down on his face and looked around, shifting his eyes nervously and looking over his shoulder numerous times as though a free hot dog was a sign of trouble. He grabbed his bun, slathered on condiments and hightailed it away. Another young man laughed at the news that his meal was paid for and pulled out his wallet. He thought it was a joke, the vendors told me later. "Why? I don't get it," was the common response.

I didn't step forward to announce my involvement. Somehow I thought the kind act would be ruined if they learned I would be writing about it.

I walked away from the experiment feeling unhugged and unloved, but Mr. Litwin promised me my work had not been in vain -- it meant I was a member of the ever-growing Kindness Crew. There is no initiation fee, and once you're in, you're in for life, he said.

Mr. Bratseth signed off with "Have a great day!" in a hearty timbre reminiscent of Tony the Tiger. Maybe I should be working on my vocal delivery.

Mary Nersessian is a Globe and Mail reporter.

Try it yourself

If free hugs seem a little forward, consider these acts of kindness:

Stand outside a grocery store and offer to carry the bags of an elderly person or weary parent.

Set up a free-lemonade stand at a public park or square during an extreme-heat alert.

Don't rebuff strangers when they strike up a conversation in a public place.

Offer to wash your neighbours' car or mow their lawn, or show up at their front door with a bag full of cleaning supplies and volunteer to clean their kitchen.

Pay for the person standing behind you in a coffee-shop line.

Bake cookies and offer them to tired drivers caught in gridlock (be careful on the road).