Cute Babies, With or Without Down Syndrome and the Urge to Stare

This past weekend I went home to Ohio to visit family and go to my sister-in-law’s baby shower. Sitting with my aunt and stepmom at the shower, I found myself looking around the room at the many different babies and living up to the stereotype of girls obsessing over babies. As I was making “googly-eyes” at the little bald headed, big eyed babies, my eyes swept over an infant, not more than six or seven months old, who looked different than the rest of the babies. Her eyes were small, slanted and close together in a way that seemed to indicate an inherent differentness. My first two consecutive thoughts upon seeing the infant went as follows: “That little girl has Down Syndrome” and “don’t look!” After catching myself doing two things, attempting to figure out if the little girl actually had Down Syndrome or not and then staring, I felt immediately regretful. I felt like I had been doing some really horrible which I needed to be reprimanded for.

Firstly, I had taken the time to convince myself that the girl either had Down Syndrome or didn’t. I even went as far as to discuss it with my aunt when she noticed the little girl sitting across the room. It struck me several minutes later that it made no difference whether or not the girl had Down Syndrome. Whether or not the little girl had Down Syndrome did not at all effect my gushing over her and how cute she was and it did not change anything about her as a baby (and later, as a person.) So it only furthered my sense of shame when I came to this conclusion.

Secondly, probably since it was an external action and not internal, I felt guilt over having been staring at the baby girl. This, perhaps, weighed on my mind even more than realizing it made no difference whether or not she had Down Syndrome. Because I could have been caught by the baby’s mother or family, I felt as if I had done some horrible thing, as if I had abused the child in some way. My immediate reaction to the guilt was to not look at all, to purposely advert my eyes, to look in any and every single direction that was not towards her.

What strikes me now, after reading parts of Rosemarie Garland-Thomson’s book, Staring: How We Look, is that maybe my staring wasn’t as horrible as I made it out to be to myself. Garland-Thomson makes the argument that staring can be utilized as a way of recognizing and professing differentness in a good way. She argues also that staring can be used as a way of making a connection with strangers who we feel we can relate to in some way or another. However, though I would like to believe that my staring (as that was certainly not the first time I had caught myself staring at someone) was justified and not just a way of singling out another form of “the other,” I’m still not completely convinced. Because it has been ingrained in me since birth that it is rude to stare, I am completely on board with this attitude. Perhaps if I read more of the book I will begin to think differently (and also because this book is the first time I have ever even thought about staring and whether or not it’s bad) about staring and its connotations. However, as for now, I’m still caught in the mindset that staring singles out people in an attempt to figure them out and normalize them or as an attempt to point out their “otherness.” Until I see staring as a way of accepting “otherness” in a positive way, I am not sure that I can agree with Garland-Thomson’s view of staring as good.