“Hello Stranger” is an online space that publishes letters to strangers. It’s all
about connection. Here’s my chat with Carol Chan who started it. It’s run by her and Dawn Toh.
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From http://strangeposts.tumblr.com/
Vadivu: What led you to its creation?
Carol: I guess two things that came together at that point in life. I’ve always been writing and working on creative projects. At that time I was an arts administrator and really wanted more ‘life’/ everyday, personal stories to be presented in a creative/ ‘literary’ way, somewhere accessible.
The obvious outlet would be online… The first vague idea was a kind of portal where people would just submit whatever they had, and we would include stories by people from ‘all walks of life’, whatever that means- I think in general there’s a sense by many of our generation- this need for more diverse stories, to capture a sense of what it’s like to live in
Singapore?
Anyway, yes, and at this same time I was also volunteering with HOME [an initiative to help migrant workers in Singapore] and hearing their stories regularly, feeling like there are two segments of Singapore community that just wasn’t connecting.
On the one hand the elite Singaporean writers, who may write about their own semi-sheltered experiences (myself included), or try to speak and present stories by migrants/ ‘others’ in Singapore. On the other hand, those with really amazing, tragic, funny, insightful observations and stories, whose stories don’t really get any real/meaningful coverage or outlet for their expression in Singapore
So these came together quite spontaneously through Hello Stranger.
The idea is to think about all the strangers in the city, and the stories they could tell you, and you, them. I guess!!
From http://strangeposts.tumblr.com/
Vadivu: So what have you observed thus far with the letters that have come in? As well as the process of implementing it?
Carol: I don’t know what I’ve learned… but the letters (& stories people have told me when they learn about Hello Stranger) keep me wondering why people are afraid to be honest, maybe.
Process of implementing it- that it’s difficult to get people to participate actually. Many people have ideas, or love the idea, but don’t necessarily want to write. Though I think writing is a process that’s fundamentally different from just telling someone else a story, or thinking/talking aloud to yourself. Also people wonder ‘what’s the point’ (and
sometimes I wonder too), and that’s been tricky. It’s difficult now to not
conceive of a project or do something- anything, like drawing or writing- for
its own sake. There has to be a ‘point’, and end product or some result,
something you can point to and say ‘hoorah we changed the world/ one person’ or
‘i sewed and got a hat’ or ‘i wrote and published a book’. Writing and drawing
and reading in themselves are being increasingly less valued…
From http://strangeposts.tumblr.com/
Vadivu: Who would you like to reach out to?
Carol: No, anyone really… Take away, just to say hello to the next stranger they see. nothing profound ;)
I actually often feel like approaching strangers and there’s a moment you have to decide to act on it or not- and sometimes I overthink it such that it never happens. Often the ones I overthink are the ones I find most intriguing. Once on the MRT there was this little old lady. She was really small, smaller than I am, and really well dressed. I could see
the powder on her face, her carefully drawn lipstick. She was well dressed in
that sort of regal way, really dignified, and she was taking the MRT- that’s not
common. I wanted to ask her where she was going, and tell her she really looked
beautiful (I mean after all that effort, she deserves to be told by
appreciative strangers!) but I thought she might be creeped out, etc. And
didn’t. Most of the time I’m also conscious of other Singaporeans on the MRT.
Here in Pittsburgh I feel that less, people talk to strangers all the time on
the bus, and it’s a beautiful thing.
I’m also constantly fascinated by how quickly strangers can be become friends. Yesterday I shared a table with this guy in the cafe. He started talking to me, and by the end of an hour we’d learn enough about each other, and he wasn’t the ‘dude with macbook across table’ anymore but this real person with thoughts, fears and dreams. In a way these
interactions give me hope that all is not lost, humans are not an entirely
cruel, selfish, greedy race.
I imagine each encounter to be a small revolution.
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Ps: Here’s my letter to a stranger…
