April 2024
The British have a reputation for being reserved, mostly because they tend to keep their emotions to themselves. It reminds me of a line from a movie that made me laugh so hard it stayed with me: "No hugging, darling. We’re British. We save our affection for horses and dogs only."
Honestly, the British really love their horses and dogs. In fact, from what I've seen, I can easily say they take better care of their dogs than they do of themselves. As for keeping their feelings to themselves... As the years have gone by and life's hard lessons have piled up, I've come to realize the British are right to be guarded. And something that happened to me today made me realize we’re actually being unfair when we label them as emotionless
On a bright, sunny Sunday morning—the kind where spring finally shakes nature out of its winter sleep and fills the parks with fresh buds—I took my dog (Bailey) for a walk in Hyde Park. As we approached a corner of the park, a sharply dressed, middle-aged man politely asked if he could pet my dog. I said yes, though I’ll admit I was a bit on guard. London streets can feel a little unpredictable these days, with no shortage of pickpockets and thieves. So there I was: leash in one hand, poo bag in the other, clutching my handbag tightly while trying to gauge his intentions.
Normally, I would have expected him to move on after a quick hello, but he started asking about my dog’s name, breed, and age while gently stroking her. My spoiled little princess, loving the attention, was utterly enchanted. After answering his questions politely, I was about to turn and leave when he suddenly opened up.
It turned out he had owned the exact same breed, but lost it recently. He was quietly grieving the loss of his best friend. In those few minutes we talked, I wish you could have heard the tenderness in his voice and seen the quiet emotion in his eyes as he spoke about his dog.
I couldn’t just turn my back and walk away. So I stood there and listened. First, he pulled out his phone to show me a quick video of his dog barking as if they were having an actual conversation. By then, I felt a slight pang of shame for having clutched my bag so suspiciously just moments before. Then, he asked if he could make a quick WhatsApp video call to his family. He dialed them right there to show them that he had just run into almost an exact double of their lost dog. Once he hung up, I expressed my condolences, excused myself, and walked away.
As I walked through the park, I wondered whether keeping so much emotion bottled up was exhausting, but more importantly, I realized that expressing your feelings and being emotionless are two completely different things. The British weren't cold or unfeeling; they just only opened up when they felt safe. Maybe behind their love for animals was the belief that animals wouldn't take advantage of that love the way people do. The mere fact that I was walking a dog gave him a subtle reassurance that if he opened up, I would understand. That day, another one of my biases was wiped away.