There was a time, not so long ago, when just to be a young woman alone on the subway in New York would be reason enough to be frightened. New York was a dangerous place then, a dirty, smoky city filled with random violence and assault.
The city has been cleaned up now, gentrified and heavily policed. The streets are free of litter. The subways are clean, safe, graffiti free, and run without pause. And it costs $2.25 (P100) to get a single ticket to ride.
So it’s too expensive now for small crime- the drug addicts, illegal aliens, muggers and street gangs can’t afford to live here anymore.
So as this girl rocks along, she isn’t worried for her safety. Nor does she seem homeless or destitute. From the way she’s dressed- nice coat, nice leather bag, stylish baseball cap- she seems prosperous enough; so why is anxiety written on her face, in her eyes? It’s probably something to do with her work, her career, her future.
At first glance, she could be just an ordinary Filipina, anyone from around here. She’s attractive, but there are dozens of girls on the streets of Dumaguete every day who look as good as she does. But they’re not living in New York. Look at her again, and you can see the difference.
How she came from the Philippines to this subway car in New York is anybody’s guess. Education, marriage, rich relatives; there are different ways. Anyway, she found one of them, and now she lives in The City.
And she’s no stranger there. She fits right in; no one would give her a second glance. Even her worried, anxious look fits in. New Yorkers often worry about something, after all, and you can read it in their faces as they pass. And now, you can read her face as well.
That’s the difference. She’s abandoned that blank, emotionless look that Filipinos present to each other in public for protection. In New York, she is who she is, she feels the way she feels, and doesn’t care who knows it. Just another ordinary American girl.