I just smiled at a middle-aged woman on a pushbike, and she looked at me as if to say, “do we know each other?”, and I thought, good point, we don’t know each other, why am I smiling?
That was a straight solidarity smile – you are on a bike, I also have a bike. I wouldn’t just smile willy-nilly at anyone the same age as me, they would have to be doing something that not all of us do: vaping; cycling; whistling. I’ll always smile at a baby in a pram, but I won’t smile at the mum, because I remember how much I used to hate it when people assumed that, just because I had a baby, it meant I was nice. You’ve already lost so much identity, so fast. I will, however, smile at a dad, because if he’s pushing a pram, he’s pulling his weight. I know that walking to the nursery is the absolute bare minimum and doesn’t tell you anything about the distribution of household chores. I can’t help it! I was born in the 70s.
I’ll smile at any young people in love for bringing gaiety to the world, and there’s no due diligence to this; they might not be in love, they might be just shagging. I’ll smile at any teenager in school uniform, just because everyone else is so rude to them. People glare at schoolkids just for walking en masse down the road, as if their pedestrianism is somehow illegitimate. This has morphed into my smiling at all uniformed persons, so that I look like I have a fetish for authority. Unfortunate, but it’s happened now, it can’t be helped. I won’t smile at teenagers who are pushing each other, whether they’re in uniform or not. Even if it looks kind of fun. I’ll smile at anyone with a dog, but not at the dog, because some of them take baring your teeth as a threatening gesture.
I’ll smile at anyone extremely old, because I’m situating them in an era when smiling was more routine, not because I’m congratulating them on their mobility – that would be patronising. They have no way to tell the difference, mind you, so let’s just hope they’re not offended. And I’ll smile at anyone in hi-vis because they’ve probably just done something useful.
I’m making it sound like I walk around perpetually overjoyed, but most people don’t fall into these categories. And the rest of the time, I have a face like thunder.
Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist
