The 24 Project | 01: Holding Doors For Girls

The 24 Project is a year-long writing challenge I began on my 24th birthday. To learn more, head over here. Otherwise, Read on!

Always hold doors for girls.

That is the earliest piece of fatherly wisdom my dad bestowed upon me that I can recall. Hold doors for girls. I’m not even sure he gave me any reasoning for this but, being six years old, I started holding doors for girls.

When you’re a three and a half foot tall kid with a bowl haircut and giant glasses, you get nothing but smiles when hold doors for girls. And that’s what I remember the most. Not the struggle of pushing those doors open, or the Herculean effort of then holding that door in place, but the smiles. Smiles of confusion, then surprise, then simple joy, laughter and thanks. And, pretty quickly, I didn’t need my dad to tell me to go do it, or to push me towards the door. I went and did it on my own, because I loved seeing those smiles.

As I get older (read: less cute), the doors become easier to open, but the smiles come less frequently, and I’ve even received some decidedly non-smiling reactions to my gesture (which never ceases to bum me out, by the way). But when they do come, and I see that journey from confusion to surprise to joy once more, it’s all the more powerful.

Because it’s not about whether or not a girl can or should open doors for herself (for the record: obviously girls can and do all the time. It’s probably happening RIGHT NOW) It’s not about how impressively I can hold the door (and, no longer being six, holding a door is about as impressive as a runny nose). It’s not about the door at all.

We’ve become misers of kindness, hoarders of grace. We tell ourselves we would love to give of our time, of our energy, but that it would just go unnoticed and unappreciated. And it’s not that big of a deal anyway, right? Doors pretty much open themselves now, and even a simple smile can be misconstrued. Why go our of our way for something that would likely be ignored at best? Isn’t it much more prudent, much more safe, to just worry about ourselves? If you never put out the effort, it can never go to waste.

But it’s not about the door. It’s about sacrificing some small part of us, our time, our energy, for the mere possibility, not guarantee, that it may restore someone’s hope and bring a moment of joy into a life lacking it. Love is not a rewards card. You don’t give to get (and if you do, I’m not sure I’d call that love, even if it makes you a “nice person”). You give that it might be received. And when it comes to something as simple as opening a door for a stranger, girl, boy, young, old, whatever, yes, it takes a small effort from you. A few seconds. A few more if you get the “conga-line” effect. It may inconvenience you for a minute. And it may go entirely unnoticed. But in two days, you won’t remember those seconds – they won’t be missed. But what if those few sacrificed seconds end up making someone’s week? Or their day? Just that moment? How many failures does it take to invalidate the success? When does joy become “not worth it”? How many seconds are too high a price?

I believe that there is no price. I believe that the pursuit of success, the possibility of effect, is worth any amount of rejection. In the words of Jon Foreman, love alone is worth the fight. Our world is devoid enough of love. We gain nothing by holding back. And we may gain nothing by giving all. But the giving alone is enough. How could it not be?

Hold doors for girls. Hold doors for boys. Hold the door so that, just for one moment, you might bear the burden of another soul, however small it may be. Give not to receive. Love not to be loved. Give because you can. Love because it is worth it.

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