The Girl on the Train

A woman was murdered. People watched and didn’t intervene – or so it was originally thought. Either way, the Bystander Effect phenomenon was identified, and 911 was created. The Bystander Effect occurs when people stand by and fail to help when others are present.

I still regret my Bystander Effect moment.

I was junior high age, in line with my church besties, and waiting for a bathroom stall to open up. An older woman came out of a stall and stood right in front of us to wash her hands. That’s when we saw it. And we looked at each other in shock and embarrassment. The woman had tucked her dress into her pantyhose and granny panties AND had a toilet paper trail hanging down past her knees. Her whole rear-end was exposed -save for the large white panties. We snickered and poked each other with – “You tell her. No, you tell her. No, you!” – as we watched her walk out of the bathroom, across the church foyer and to the center aisle of the large sanctuary.

As soon as I realized she was heading down the aisle, I ran to my dad who was ushering nearby and told him to stop her. He hurriedly followed her down the aisle but she was too far ahead and she made it to the third row before he could get her attention. I’ll never forget the embarrassed, horrified look on her face.

I vowed to myself to “see something, say something” after that. I missed my opportunity to help that woman but planned to do better the next time.

Years later, I was standing on the subway platform and witnessed something “off.”

My husband and I were in New York City (pre-COVID years) and I assured him that taking the subway was a fine way of getting around in the city. I’d been there multiple times  – usually with teens and not a lot of spare change. He’s been there numerous times and usually on an expense account, so he hops in cabs and orders Ubers. I’ve learned how to navigate the city in the subway like the rats.

“It’ll be fine,” I said. “Follow my lead,” and I descended the stairs into the other world – under the streets of NYC.

As we stood on the landing, waiting for our train, I noticed a young girl and a woman in an intense conversation. The girl looked to be about 12 years old and it appeared she was in an argument with her “mom.” That interchange was noticeable  – maybe because I had been there innumerable times with my own girls when they were teens – or maybe it was the other woman.

The other woman was standing a few feet away and had her phone up, videoing the mother/daughter couple. It seemed she was with them because she was so close to them and I thought it would be extremely gutsy to video complete strangers. At first, I thought maybe she was videoing them so she could show the young girl how bad it looked to argue with your mom in public. Wait, maybe that was my own wishful thinking from my teenage parenting years.

The other woman stopped videoing and started taking pictures of the young girl. I saw the other woman then take the photos, quickly edit, crop and load them onto some sort of site.  Then she took more pictures. I was close enough – New York City style – to see the other woman taking the pictures and doing something with them but not close enough to see what she was doing with them.

The mother and daughter had seemingly figured out their disagreement and were casually conversing – oblivious to the other woman taking the pictures of the young girl. It became obvious to me these three were not together.

I had an uneasy feeling about it.

Our subway train arrived and we stepped on. The mother and daughter sat down right as we stepped onto the train. The other woman positioned herself directly across from them. I could have sat down but was so uncomfortable with the situation that I stood close by. My husband was not aware of what I had been observing at this point and just followed suit and stood next to me.

As the subway train gathered speed in the dark tunnels, I watched the other woman raise her phone to keep taking pictures. I could tell by her movements she was continuing to upload them to some site.

My husband figured out I was watching something, so I told him what I had observed.

“Artists,” was his reply.

I wasn’t so sure and my fears were confirmed when the young couple sitting next to the other woman started watching what she was doing on her phone. The guy saw it first. I saw him frown. He nudged the girl next to him and she looked over at the other woman’s phone. She frowned. They had a few words between them and looked back. More frowning. They caught my eye and we had a moment of knowing that we all knew something wasn’t right.

I started to say something to the mother. My husband stopped me.

He gave me that “don’t get involved” look. I get that. We were on a train way underground with more than a few unsavory-looking people. He didn’t want me to make a scene. And history had proven that I could make a scene, forcing him to interfere. I think he lives in fear that my mouth will get one of us shot. (Joking – but not really.)

But this was wrong and I couldn’t keep quiet. My heart was pounding.

The couple’s frowns deepened as they watched the phone and the pictures being taken. Their looks at me intensified  – which I interpreted as a silent cry to do something. My husband’s admonition for me to be quiet and not get involved caused great conflict. On one hand, I knew he was right. What could I really do?

I kept quiet but positioned my body directly between the young girl and the woman taking the pictures and videos. My stop was approaching and I knew if my body was no longer blocking the other woman’s view of the young girl she would continue taking the pictures.

My back was to the other woman and as the train began to slow for my stop, I gave my husband a quick glance that said, “I have to do something and I’ll try not to get shot but be prepared to back me up” and opened my mouth to get the mother’s attention.

“Ma’am. The lady sitting across from you in the green coat has been taking pictures and videos of your daughter,” I said as quietly as I could but loud enough so she could hear me.

“WHAT?” she asked but her tone was more of “leave us alone!”

I tried again as the doors of the train were about to open at my stop. I quickly relayed to her everything I had witnessed and told her the others had noticed something odd was going on.

And I stepped off the train. My husband breathed a sigh of relief and watched behind us to see if the other woman had disembarked with us. We hurried up the steps and were grateful for blue skies overhead.

“It was the right thing to do,” I said, as much to myself as to my husband.

“Yes, it was. You did the right thing,” he replied.

What I did was a bit risky and uncomfortable – but it was the right thing. I would have felt awful if I had gotten off the train and not said anything. Often, doing the right thing isn’t always comfortable. Often, it is hard and very uncomfortable. But that doesn’t make it wrong. Doing the right thing – is the right thing.

Sticking up for those who can’t stick up for themselves is the right thing. Asking for forgiveness is the right thing. Forgiving is the right thing. Taking care of the widows and orphans is the right thing. Loving your neighbors as yourself is the right thing.

During the past several years, it seems the Bystander Effect has become more and more common. Videos of crimes happening while people stand by and record it but don’t step in are prevalent. Such videos scroll across my social media and on the news daily at an alarming rate.

We need to be people who step up and step in. It may come with a price but I believe it is worth it.

Now which of these three would you say was a neighbor to the man who was attacked by bandits?” Jesus asked. The man replied, “The one who showed him mercy.” Then Jesus said, “Yes, now go and do the same.” Luke 10:36-37