My husband and I were browsing at REI a few months back, looking at outdoor gear and trying on some clothes. When I came out of the dressing room with a long-sleeved, button-down shirt over my arm, a lady standing nearby commented on the color and mentioned that she was looking for something like that. I told her where I’d found it and went to another section of the store. A few minutes later, I passed her in another aisle and offered to walk over to where I’d found the shirt she had admired. I’m not one to strike up conversations with strangers, but I found myself asking about her possible plans for a hike where she’d need a shirt like the one I had. She was a little older than me and explained that she volunteered with a group of people each summer to clear hiking trails around the valley. She told me about some of their adventures and projects, and then shared information about her group with me. It was an inspiring and delightful conversation. I enjoyed learning about this organization I’d never heard of, and as someone who hikes, I appreciated the work she was doing. Just looking at her, I would have had no idea that she spent her time this way.

I kept thinking about this interaction and was impressed with how much I could learn if I talked to random people more often and tried to connect with them, even in some small way. Everyone we see has a story. They each live complex lives following many different paths made up of their own choices. We don’t know what path they are on, unless we talk to them about it.

Shortly after this interaction, I came across information about a library created in Copenhagen, Denmark, in 2000; it is a Human Library. This idea has since spread, and now there are Human Libraries in twenty countries worldwide. When you go to a Human Library, you don’t check out a book; instead, you “check out” a person. You get to “borrow” that volunteer for thirty minutes to hear about their life and ask them questions. These volunteers come from all walks of life: homeless, refugee, naturalist, gay, PTSD survivor, unemployed, chronically ill, Olympic athlete, and the list goes on. 

The goal of these Human Libraries is to fight prejudice and create empathy. In the combative world we live in, we often prejudge people and don’t get to know them, but instead, build walls that keep us separated from them. We think we know what their lives are like by how they are labeled, but in actuality, we have no idea. These Human Libraries give people an opportunity to understand someone else’s life and hopefully increase their ability to empathize with these people who are different from them. 

On the flip side, imagine that you offered yourself to be “checked out” at a Human Library, what category would you fall under? What perspective could you share with a stranger about your life? It’s worth thinking about, if only to realize the unique situation you are in, what you have struggled with, and what you have accomplished in your life. 

I do not live near a Human Library, but I can still reach out to people around me and learn about their uniqueness, the fantastic things they’ve done in their lives, and advice they have to share from their personal journey so far. These interactions will likely be brief, like the woman I spoke to at REI. I will probably never see this woman again, but that day, I learned from her and appreciated how she was making the world around her a better place. So look for Human Library experiences each day, listen to people, learn different ways of doing things, and appreciate the people you meet for who they are and the good things they’ve done in life, no matter their label.

Subscribe for free content above, or receive monthly short stories from my upcoming book of Oregon Historical Fiction with a paid subscription, below.