Why Did It Matter to Me?

Recently I was reading Rainbow Wisdom by Mischa Oak, and a memory came back to me that I hadn’t thought about in years.

Back in 2018, my husband and I owned a consignment, antique and craft store. On any given day all kinds of people came through our doors, which was one of the things I loved about it.

One day a customer came in and I couldn’t tell whether they were male or female. I noticed it made me feel a certain way, and I honestly couldn’t put words to what that feeling was. It just felt uncomfortable.

And then I got caught up on it. Why did I need to know? Why was it important to me? Was I discriminating? I kept asking myself why it mattered, and when I was really honest with myself, I realized I was trying to figure out whether I was safe. If this person was a man, did I need to be more cautious? Did I need to change how I was behaving to protect myself?

That stopped me. If I felt this way, other people probably do too. And if you’re not in the habit of asking yourself why you feel something, you might just feel the discomfort and let societal pressures and stereotypes explain it for you.

So I went looking at what’s actually happening in the body, and it made so much sense.

Our brains sort people into categories almost instantly, within a fraction of a second and long before we’re consciously thinking about it. One of the first things the brain notices is whether someone is male or female, because it uses that to predict what might happen and whether we’re safe. When the brain can’t sort someone quickly, it gets a kind of “error” signal. Researchers have found that people actually rate faces less favourably when they’re harder to categorize, simply because the brain is working harder. The discomfort comes from inside us, not from the other person.

That uncertainty also switches on the amygdala, our alarm system, and the insula, the part of the brain that turns what’s happening inside us into body sensations. That’s the “something feels off” feeling. Norepinephrine makes us more alert, and if the feeling lingers, cortisol follows.

Here’s the part I find so important: the body doesn’t come with labels. It just produces the feeling, and then the mind looks for a reason. Usually, it reaches for whatever reason we were raised with or what society tells us. If we’ve been taught that people who look different are wrong or dangerous, the discomfort gets blamed on them.

And those stress chemicals help lock memories in more strongly, so every uncomfortable moment can make the belief feel a little more true.

I believe this is where a lot of anger comes from. Anger feels better than uncertainty, because it gives us a sense of control. I can’t help wondering if this is part of why we see so much anger toward people in the LGBTQ+ community, or people of different races, religions and cultures. People hold on tightly to their beliefs because those beliefs explain the discomfort in their bodies when their brains can’t make sense of what they’re seeing, especially when it goes against how they were raised.

That’s not the whole picture, of course. Prejudice is also taught and reinforced in so many ways. But I believe the body plays a bigger role than we realize.

The good news is that what I did in my store that day, stopping and asking myself why, is exactly what helps. Naming a feeling actually calms the amygdala. Getting curious about it brings the thinking part of the brain back online. And the more time we spend around people who seem different to us, the less our brain treats them as uncertain.

That customer never knew what was going on inside me. But I’m grateful for that moment, because it taught me to be more objective about my feelings and to ask why before I believe what my discomfort is telling me.

Disclaimer: The information shared here is for educational and inspirational purposes only and is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease. It is not a substitute for medical advice. Please consult your physician or a qualified healthcare provider before making changes to your health care. The views expressed are my own