Page 128 - Malcolm Gladwell - Talking to Strangers
P. 128

moving was really stressful—which is the same thing that everyone says about moving.
                       Weisburd continues:
                       They talked about how hard it would be for business. They’d have to reestablish themselves.
                       They  talked  about  danger,  people  they  don’t  know.  What  do  they  mean  by  people they don’t
                       know? “Here, I know who’s going to call the police and who won’t call the police.” That’s a big
                       issue  for  them.…When  they’re  in  the  same  place,  they  begin  to  have  a  high  level  of  correct
                       prediction about people. Going to a new place? You don’t know who these people are. Someone
                       who looks bad could be good. Someone who looks good, from their perspective, could be bad.
                         The  interviewer  said,  “Well,  why  don’t  you  just  go  four  blocks  away?  There’s  another
                       prostitution site.” Her response: “Those are not my type of girls. I don’t feel comfortable there.”
                       That hit me.…Even people with these tremendous problems, with these tremendous difficulties
                       in life, they respond to many of the same things as you or I.
                       Some of them may have children in nearby schools, and grocery stores where they shop, and
                    friends they like to be close to, and parents they need to look in on—and as a result have all kinds of
                    reasons not to move their business. Their job, at that moment, is sex work. But they are mothers and
                    daughters and friends and citizens first. Coupling forces us to see the stranger in her full ambiguity
                    and complexity.
                       Was Sexton determined to take her own life, by any means possible? Not at all. She would never
                    use a gun. “For Ernest Hemingway to shoot himself with a gun in the mouth is the greatest act of
                    courage I can think of,” she told her therapist. “I worry about the minutes before you die, that fear
                    of death. I don’t have it with the pills, but with a gun there’d be a minute when you’d know, a
                    terrible fear. I’d do anything to escape that fear.”
                       Her chosen method was pills, downed with alcohol, which she considered the “woman’s way
                    out.” Take a look at the following chart, comparing different suicide methods by fatality rate.
























                    People who overdose on pills die 1.5 percent of the time. Sexton was coupled to a method of suicide
                    that  was  highly  unlikely  to  kill  her.  That  is  not  a  coincidence.  Like  many  people  with  suicidal
                    tendencies, she was profoundly ambivalent about taking her own life. She took sleeping pills nearly
                    every night, tiptoeing up to the line between dose and overdose but never crossing it. Just listen to
                    her rationale, in her poem “The Addict”:
                       Sleepmonger,
                       deathmonger,
                       with capsules in my palms each night,
                       eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
                       I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey.
                       I’m the queen of this condition.

                       I’m an expert on making the trip
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