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It was just another ordinary day. I was on a bus on the very last row, commuting as usual. At one point, the person sitting by the window stood up to leave, and I decided to take their spot for a better view. As I tried to shift over, I placed my hand on the seat to steady myself–and then it happened.
I felt it. A hand. Another human hand!
I froze. My heart raced, and I shuddered involuntarily. In that moment, panic washed over me.
What was this fear? What caused it?
Quickly, I realized the girl sitting to my right must have accidentally placed her hand on the seat, and so I must have pressed her hand as I tried to shift over. Even though there was a whole empty seat separating us, the thought of breaching her boundary sent my mind into overdrive. My hand shot back, almost instinctively. But then I looked again–and to my immense relief, it wasn’t her hand after all. It was the seatbelt I had touched.
The fear subsided, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I sat there, reflecting deeply. Why had I reacted so strongly? Why had my heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of accidentally touching another person? It wasn’t the physical pain I was afraid of–no, I hadn’t pressed hard enough to really hurt her. It was something else entirely. The fear of crossing an invisible boundary. The fear of violating someone’s personal space.
This realization hit me hard. I remember growing up in a more communal society. Back then, this kind of scenario wouldn’t have made me so anxious. We shared space, food, laughter, and even touch with strangers–without the looming worry of “crossing a line.”
But now? Now we live in a world where boundaries are thicker, taller, and more rigid than ever. Personal space has become sacred. In some places, the mere thought of a stranger encroaching on it is unthinkable. “Private property, DO NOT TRESPASS!”
Do we agree the world has become more focused on the comfort and privacy of the individual and less on communal connections and interactions? Is this progress? Or have we lost something valuable along the way?
I don’t have a definitive answer. There are undeniable benefits to respecting boundaries and granting people privacy. It’s a safeguard for individuality, autonomy, and comfort. But at what cost? When we emphasize boundaries so much, do we also create walls that isolate us? When “private property” signs scream so loudly; when digital platforms echo with demands for privacy and anonymity; when a simple touch sparks fear–are we losing the essence of human connection?
Here’s what I wonder: Is it possible to balance the two? To uphold respect for personal boundaries while still nurturing the warmth of human interaction?
One of the fondest memories of my childhood was walking through my village on chill evenings. Back then, it was customary to greet everyone you passed–whether you knew them or not. A simple “Good evening!” and a warm smile was exchanged without hesitation. In fact, an elderly person would frown and often scold you if you passed by without greeting them. I remember vividly once walking past a group of elders. As I greeted them, one of them stopped me, asked about my family, and gave me a playful pat on the shoulder. It was a beautiful, unspoken rule: you acknowledged people, strangers included, as part of the same human fabric.
But imagine that today. Walking through a city like Singapore and greeting every stranger you meet might earn you suspicious looks or even avoidance. What was once a gesture of shared humanity now feels like overstepping a boundary, an unwelcome intrusion into someone’s personal bubble. So, as I sat there on that bus, I couldn’t help but ask myself–and now I ask you–are we losing the human touch?
The answer may not be black and white. But perhaps the real question is: How can we reconnect without overstepping? How can we preserve the beauty of shared humanity without sacrificing the respect we’ve learned to give each other? This is not just a question for me. It’s a question for all of us.
Let’s reflect on it together.