Riding the bus and an older women sitting in front of me is wearing a shimmery gold jacket with “Golden Age Club” embroidered in white letters on the back. Her face smiles naturally. A stop or two later, another women around the same age, maybe older, sits beside the other and pulls out a small, worn book from her purse. It’s one of those tiny things filled with appropriate Bible passages for any situation. She opens it up to a previously bookmarked chapter. “Bible Passages For Confidence.” I feel my face heat up and my throat tighten and my eyes become heavy. I start crying.
I cried a few days ago when my Latin professor told me I wasn’t trying hard enough. I cried when I accidentally burnt the bagel I was toasting for breakfast. I cried when I saw the full moon because it looked beautiful. I cried in my partner’s car while we drove around back roads in the middle of the night. I cried because everything felt so perfect then. I cried when I woke up some mornings ago to see the sunrise had turned everything the most beautiful shade of pink. I cried when I dropped my favorite mug and it shattered on the floor. I cried when my mother passed away in June, but not as much as I thought I would. I cried longer and harder when I realized that she’d never call to ask how my day was again. I cry when I listen to her favorite songs. I cried on the bus ride home from Connecticut to Maryland two summers ago, although I wasn’t sure why at the time. I cried when I understood why. I cried for a few weeks that time. I cried when I realized how many papers I have to write this month. I cried when I remembered the coloring book a classmate stole from me in kindergarten.
Crying isn’t really something that I have control over. Sometimes I can feel it coming—hours, days, weeks in advance. Sometimes I go to great lengths to stop it from happening, which usually makes it worse. Sometimes it’s just a tear or two that barely leave my eyes. Sometimes it’s an hour-long sob. Sometimes I cry because I’m sad, but many times it’s because the feelings I’m feeling in that particular moment, whatever they are, are so amplified that it just happens.
I didn’t used to cry as often as I do now. Accepting that crying is okay and recognizing it as something healthy that can help my body and mind feel good is somewhat new to me. I used to feel ashamed when I cried, especially when it happened in public places. I still struggle with this sometimes, fearing that people will see me crying and think that my life must be spiraling out of control, that I’m unable to contain my emotions. This usually results in worrying that my crying is playing into sexist stereotypes, like being sensitive and weak. Crying communicates. It communicates a sense of vulnerability to others. When emotional strength, a trait typically valued by society, is often seen as stoicism and fearlessness, crying can communicate quite the opposite.
I think, though, being emotional is a great and undervalued thing. Resiliency is important, of course, but letting myself cry when I need to is okay, too. I shouldn’t be afraid to let my body express my feelings when I’m in public because of people with archaic, sexist mindsets. I’m not awful or betraying feminism for crying on the bus or at the grocery store or in a bathroom at school.
Unruly Bodies 
This is a really great post. It’s actually something I have been thinking about recently too. The other day I was so overwhelmed with school and fears about the future and life drama, that I knew that I needed to cry. But I did everything in my power to keep myself from doing it. I didn’t have any clear reason why I shouldn’t (I was at home and so there was no fear of other people’s judgment), I just simply knew that I had to keep myself from it at all costs. Afterwards I began thinking and realized that I can’t remember the last time I cried. Truly cried. It’s something I’ve always prided myself in – this lack of crying has always seemed like a marker of strength to me, but I’m not so sure that it is. I have been taught to hide my negative emotions at all costs, even if it makes my chest ache attempting to keep it all in, and I wonder what it would be like if I didn’t worry so much about how others would react to my emotions, and instead felt what I felt simply for myself.
Crybaby, checking in! Great post, thank you.
This is a beautiful, wonderful post! I think you display emotional strength in your own way; after all, having strong emotions and showing them does not make you weak, but rather shows that you are able to strongly emote. That is admirable in its own right. 🙂 You just keep on doing you, and expressing yourself how you want and need to!
Thank you for this. I’m actually crying right now in the library, because of some things in my life that are uncontrollable, and I just really needed the affirmation that I wasn’t actually pathetic and that I was doing what I needed to do by crying. I really like the understanding of crying as self-caring, because it’s just–at least for me–a natural thing that needs to happen. When I bottle up the tears I start gasping and my face gets red, and that doesn’t feel nearly as good as when I can just feel hot saltwater drain from eyes down my face.
I think you’re right, though. Crying in public shows vulnerability, but–to add to your conversation–I think it can be a radical act. To just let go of the ideals of what should and shouldn’t happen in public, and bare raw, unrestrained emotion–that’s powerful. Not to say that holding in crying is a totally negative thing, but to just embrace crying in public, because sometimes it’s not only necessary, but a statement, that’s a powerful moment of subversion and self love.
I like this post a lot because I’m the type of person that never liked anyone see me cry ever yet I cry about a lot of things. I felt as if someone saw me cry they would automatically think I was weak and the fact that crying is most of the time an involuntary response I felt like I was unable to control my emotions or body. I like the fact that you’re not afraid to cry about anything ever.
I really appreciate you putting this into words. When I saw this blog I felt like it was exactly what I needed to read. I have always felt like the world, my family, everybody makes crying seem like a weakness. It was never something we should let others see us do. But why? Why can’t we cry? Whenever I have felt the need to cry I have always, nine times out of ten, hidden. I’ll go to the bathroom, hide away in a long shower or bath. Even crack a joke that I had to poop. Cause it was better for them to think I had diarrhea? Or I’d find an excuse to go to my bedroom and stay in there until I no longer had the red rimmed eyes and Rudolph nose. I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen my mother, sister, and father cry on one hand. My grandma was always the crier but somebody always had a negative comment about it. So, I didn’t want to be the butt of the jokes or be the odd ball out. It is okay to cry, and somehow, someway I will make myself believe this.
From one big crier to another: I really loved this entry. It is beautifully written; I can sense your honesty and that you may have teared up while writing it (I definitely did while reading it). I think that people who cry uninhibitedly are beautiful, strong, and compassionate. To be moved by the smallest things can be both a blessing and a curse, but I think that in the end it’s a really great for understanding oneself and one’s emotions.
Thank you for writing this. I teared up a little bit because it reminded me of my own history with crying. I’ve always been emotional but it always presented itself in a very loud, screaming or slamming things sort of way (when I was a kid, not currently). After some pretty heavy experiences at a young age, my mom just wrapped her arms around me and begged me to just stop yelling and “just cry.” She repeated it over and over. Just cry. I remember it so vividly and I finally gained the courage to cry. Because it does take courage to cry, and your post helped me realize that even more.
Now, honestly I love crying. I still get sort of embarrassed about it in front of other people but when I’m home alone or with people I trust, feeling my face heat up to have a good cry is its own therapy. There is so much strength in tears and I was so happy to read this and be reminded of that.