The Story of the Human Rubberneck
By Shaharah Gaznabbi, Guest Author
The story of the Human Rubberneck is one rarely told.
It’s in the stories they tell where the real value holds.
Their stories are captivating. Hearing about it was exhilarating!
It’s gold. The things they see, so interesting they can’t look away.
Even if I can’t remember who told it… It was an interesting tale anyway.
It’s quick isn’t it? The pace in which the stories make it around?
It’s understandable that when the word travels that fast, the person telling them is... lost...
But if that’s the case, the person the story is about is absolutely nowhere to be found.
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The anatomy of the Human Rubberneck begins with the brain.
They are inherently curious about what goes on.
To get a good look at the action, they stare.
Craning their long necks to focus on what they’ve stumbled upon.
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Next are the eyes that penetrate the soul.
They read you like a book,
They make assumptions every page they turn.
I yearn to learn what goes on beyond the whites of their eyes.
What lens they see me with, and how that refracts back into their minds.
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Last are the fingers they use to point at their prey.
Like daggers, they're accurate. Like a drill sergeant, they’re firm.
They are strict, they are fast, so much so they may even catch the Human Rubberneck off guard.
But they surprise the prey the most, because for us it translates to a sense of disregard.
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The looks of their prey are drawn. Their plans to blend in gone awry.
What more can they do?
It’s not like they hadn’t tried!
They try ignoring the many looks from the Human Rubbernecks.
But every time they go out in public, it’s like their Broadway debut.
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The victims of the Human Rubberneck eventually get through.
It may take a while, but eventually, they do.
They are used to being made to feel like an outcast in every which way.
But they are strong because of the effort it takes them to just get through each and every day.
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But this poem isn’t about the prey? Isn’t it? (It never really is.)
No. The title clearly says “The Story of the Human Rubberneck”.
I mean, who can blame these rubberneckèd individuals from looking my way?
They are just very inquisitive. Very observant. They use their long fingers to point in my direction.
I wish I carried a sign that simply read “Not Today…”
Because “Today” slowly started to become every day.
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I know things for me will always be a fraction harder.
If the expectation is that you are always to be strong,
Eventually your heart starts to develop stone-cold armour.
Because only you know that you are doing nothing wrong.
But that might not be apparent to the Human Rubberneck.
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Who knows why they stare?
They look at me, as I scream and yelp, twist and shout, flail and swear and pull my hair and…
Eventually I get off the bus even if it’s not my stop.
I just needed for that situation to stop.
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Of course they stare, why wouldn’t they?
Maybe I deserve to be looked at like a pariah
But the look on my face... Is it not screaming….
“Please, just look away.”?
What is missed in the story of the Human Rubberneck,
What is missed in the story of its prey,
Is that in the end they are both human.
The two classes, thinking about each other as “The Other”? It's all an illusion.
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Yes, I argue we are both equally to blame.
I don’t want to be ignorant to the eyes looking my way,
But I do judge them for looking, assuming they wanted a hot story to share,
But really the majority may just wonder “Is that kid okay over there?”
An enlightening majority of Rubbernecks do care.
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The Human Rubberneck doesn’t always act on malice,
Maybe they are curious, willing to learn more.
Maybe they’ve had their own challenges in their own lives,
Maybe their skin too, from other Rubbernecks, is calloused.
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Maybe it takes them a great effort too,
An effort to find the motivation, to internalize that drive.
Perhaps for once, they were the Rubberneck instead of the prey,
I redirected the focus away from them, I instead took their place.
At least, for once, they got a short break.
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So what is the overall takeaway?
When aren’t we all Rubbernecks at one point or the other?
When will we be done with the expectation of “The Other”?
All I know is that we choose to live in “The Story of the Human Rubberneck”.