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Can we cry in public?
It never made much sense to me when my mom said, “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.” Maybe that’s familiar from your own childhood?
Mom just didn’t get it. Obviously, I already had something to cry about … that would explain the tears streaming down my cheeks!
Then there was the first-grade teacher who told me (repeatedly) to “turn off the waterworks.” I don’t think I was the only one who teared up over reading groups and spelling bees and being left out on the playground. That waterworks comment made me hate Mrs. Howard though.
I guess I was always an easy crier, and not only in grade school. I was still tearing up often as I got older. Much older. I’ve dissolved in tears in radio studios, newsrooms, and offices. And yes, I’ve taken some heat for being “too sensitive.”
On the other hand, I’m quite comfortable with somebody else crying over, well, just about anything. You’re feeling blue? Tell me all about it, and feel free to let the tears flow. I’m a soft place to land.
So, I was glad to read about the Cry n’ Vibe.
The Washington D.C. gathering of mostly women was an opportunity to talk, for real, about shedding those tears, even in public settings. To vibe together. And even to go right ahead and cry.
The force behind the event? Kiara McGowan, who got serious about crying after she lost her Capitol Hill job and found herself in tears, well, just about everywhere around the District. She’s clearly not alone, though, in her quest for places to cry.
You might say McGowan is a connoisseur of crying spots. And her tearful videos about those places have quite a following on TikTok.
Last week’s get-together was her first live-and-in-person event; it’s not likely to be her last. Turns out a lot of people seem to need permission to cry. Or maybe they need like-minded company to share their sad moments and memories. They certainly found the permission and their people at Cry n’ Vibe.
After years of women being discouraged from displaying emotion, especially at work, comfort with crying appears to be growing, albeit slowly.
I was surprised to find it’s been five years since I wrote about tech and start-up leaders at Fortune’s Most Powerful Women Next Gen Summit. They were talking even then about women owning their vulnerability. The title of their panel program: “It’s Okay to Cry.”
We’re a long way from opening the crying clubs that flourish in some Japanese cities. But it does seem that tears are more acceptable than they used to be on the el, in a restaurant, and even at work.
And way more acceptable than they were back when football great Rosey Grier was telling us it’s all right to cry … back in 1974.
So maybe I should cry more?
I’ve been kind of concerned about not crying very much during the past year and a half or so. Am I finally, at this late date, becoming less sensitive?
Dealing with my sweet husband’s illness and then death, and the professional setbacks that came with it, you’d think I’d be a tear-stained mess. In fact, I’ve done my share of talking with sympathetic friends, but the waterworks seemed to have finally been turned off in public or private.
And then … the anniversary. It’s been a year now since Frank died and I’m sad. I think about the warnings I heard from a couple of friends all those months ago: the second year is the worst, they said. They might be right. I’m on my way to finding out.
And I’m curious about your experience with crying, whenever and wherever. Is it more comfortable now, to tear up in public places?
You may not be ready to launch a TikTok, but I hope you’ll share your thoughts with us in the comments section below.
When I lost my daughter in 2022, I wonder why I didn’t cry? Maybe I was in shock? The motorcycle accident, needless to say was a huge life changing surprise. I felt so detached at the wake. I was hugging people and felt I was consoling them, not the other way around. When I feel my eyes beginning to burn, I try to shut the tears off. Then I say to myself I have to cry, because crying is in fact healing.
Grief is strange. Maybe the saying is right about second year being with worst. I feel crusty and sometimes I say the darnedest things I can hardly explain. The words just puke out my mouth. NOT always nice just unfiltered, like take it or leave it. Ugh. Life. Thank you for letting me open up here. I always admired you, Catherine.
Oh, Paige, what a hard loss you experienced! I feel so bad for you. And, I can relate about feeling that you’re consoling other people rather than being consoled. Of course, my situation was much different; I had months to get used to the fact that Frank was dying. Still, I felt the sort of surprise you’re talking about, that I wasn’t weeping more.
About those words puking out of our mouths. One friend dropped me completely because of something I said to her a couple weeks after Frank died. I’m not even sure what it was–I was in sort of a fog, I guess. I took her word that whatever it was, it was offensive, and I apologized. She wasn’t having it. Losing that relationship hurt. And I still didn’t cry.
My dad used the first admonition after every whipping he gave me and eventually I pretty much stopped crying – except for the whippings, where I’m sure tears were expected. It took a long time for me to realize this was not a good thing; choking back tears created an energetic blockage in my throat. It took more time and a lot of work to correct the problem. Tears are wonderful way to release emotions of all sorts and now I’m grateful when they come. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable shedding them in every situation but I see nothing wrong with it. BTW, it would be nice if men got more comfortable with crying as well … let’s hear it for gender equality! 😂😭🥲
You’re onto something about the energetic block, Linda. I’ve worked with clients who hope for fuller, richer voices; often that thin, reedy sound comes from the sort of blockage you’re talking about. I’m a speaking coach, not a therapist. I’ve encouraged some of those women to sort out what’s kept them from speaking freely, even as we focus on the physicality of speaking from their core instead of their head.
My nickname was Cry Baby. I never allowed anyone to cry alone. I always associated my tears with having empathy. BUT when a loved one receives their wings, I initially have no tears. I’m speaking at the Homegoing Service, comforting others and sharing funny memories, I will miss them and withing the year I may become overwhelmed because of the void, but my faith in where they now reside won’t allow sadness for me. I’ll see everyone again and they won’t be able to call me Cry Baby. I gained strength in their absence. However, when we meet again if they start crying, I’m crying too.
Interesting that your tears don’t come when someone dies, Zandra. I get it, being too busy to cry. Yes to those tears of empathy!
Totally can relate. Working in a man’s world made crying difficult yet I had no control. When I cried I was usually so angry and couldn’t spout the words I would have liked to. I used to feel so helpless. Yep, I am able to control a bit more now…..but it’s not easy.
I get it, Patty. Even more than sadness, anger can easily bring on those tears.