A Help Mark may be the only visible sign of an illness or disability that cannot be seen from the outside. On a crowded train, a small act of consideration can reveal what kind of society we choose to create.
When commuting, I usually try to board a less crowded carriage and choose a door where fewer people are waiting. Yesterday evening, however, the train arrived just as I stepped onto the platform, so I had no choice but to board at a particularly crowded spot.
I spend most of the day sitting in front of a microscope, so I know that sitting for even longer is not exactly good for my health. I do not particularly mind standing on the train.
Still, when I am carrying a heavy bag containing my laptop, I begin to want a seat after a while.
Fortunately, at the next major station, the seat directly in front of me became vacant, and I was able to sit down.
I spent some time looking at my smartphone, but four or five stops later, a man wearing a Help Mark boarded the train.
He looked to be around seventy.
He appeared healthy, but he presumably had some illness or disability that was not visible.
He looked around with disappointment when he saw that there were no empty seats, then stood holding on to a strap.
The two young men beside me were absorbed in games on their smartphones, whether or not they had noticed him.
The men in their thirties or forties sitting opposite us were also staring at their phones and showed no particular reaction.
After about two stops, one of the young men beside me got off the train.
I felt relieved, thinking that the man with the Help Mark would finally be able to sit down.
At that very moment, however, another man who had been standing next to him quickly took the vacant seat.
The man with the Help Mark moved slowly and had lost this little game of musical chairs.
Unable to stand it any longer, I spoke to him and offered him my seat.
The men around us, all of whom looked clearly younger than I was, continued to pretend not to notice.
I placed my heavy bag on the luggage rack and took hold of a strap again, thinking that they could at least have had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.
Many people who wear a Help Mark or a maternity badge are dealing with circumstances difficult enough that they feel the need to make them visible to strangers.
Some illnesses and disabilities cannot be recognized from a person’s appearance.
That is precisely why a certain degree of consideration from those around them is necessary.
Incidentally, on the bus from my nearest station to the hospital where I work, the healthy-looking passengers are usually hospital staff, while most of the others are patients or people accompanying them.
For that reason, I try to offer my seat whenever possible.
Alternatively, I sit at the very back from the beginning, where it is difficult to give up the seat midway through the journey.
Everyone wants to sit down on a train or bus.
These days, I also tend to sit whenever a seat is available.
When I was a student, standing was simply a matter of course.
Even now, I might still manage without much difficulty if I were not carrying a commuting bag with a laptop inside.
After a full day’s work, however, it is not quite so easy.
Some people might say that anyone who needs a seat should use the priority seating area.
They might say that such a person should travel in a Green Car.
They might suggest avoiding crowded hours.
They might even argue that people who struggle physically should use a private car or take a taxi instead of using the train.
Perhaps those arguments exist.
Even so, a person with greater physical strength can surely stand for ten or twenty minutes for someone who is struggling.
Is that not the kind of small burden we should be willing to share with one another in society?
As I thought about this, I silently muttered to myself, “Still, this really is tiring,” and remained standing as the train carried me all the way to the final stop.
Compassion does not require us to feel no burden; it asks us to accept a small one for someone who may be carrying far more.
・・・
Help Mark
A red-and-white symbol used in Japan by people who may need assistance or consideration because of an illness, disability, pregnancy complication, prosthetic limb, or other condition that may not be visible.
maternity badge
A badge worn by pregnant women in Japan to indicate pregnancy, especially during the early stages when it may not yet be obvious.
not particularly mind doing something
To be willing to do something without feeling strong reluctance.
Example: I do not particularly mind standing on the train.
presumably
Used when something is considered likely based on the available evidence.
Example: He presumably had a condition that could not be seen.
musical chairs
A game in which people compete for fewer chairs than there are players. Here, it is used figuratively to describe the competition for an empty train seat.
unable to stand it any longer
Unable to tolerate a situation any further.
Example: Unable to stand it any longer, I offered him my seat.
have the decency to
To behave with a minimum level of politeness or consideration.
Example: They could at least have had the decency to look embarrassed.
priority seating area
Seats on public transport reserved primarily for elderly people, pregnant women, people with disabilities, and others who may need to sit.
Green Car
A first-class railway carriage in Japan that requires an additional fee and generally offers more comfortable seating.
a matter of course
Something regarded as normal, natural, or expected.
Example: When I was a student, standing was a matter of course.
#InvisibleDisabilities #PublicTransport #SocialCompassion #LifeInJapan #ColoKen
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