Tears and laughter cleanse the heart. —Jonathan Lockwood Hule

On Tuesday night, we went to see the documentary Us & Them. Filmed in Victoria, British Columbia, it explores homelessness and addiction by following the lives of four homeless people over the course of ten years. It’s incredibly powerful, and their stories put a human face on folks we far too often pass with little more than a brief thought. While I highly recommend seeing it, it is not the film that I want to talk about, but the emotion that it stirred in all of us who attended.

As I watched, I stifled the urge to cry, sniffling as quietly as I possibly could. Beside me, a stranger’s shoulders shook as she wept, but she made no sound. When we left, my husband commented that he had a headache from fighting back tears. What is wrong with this picture? We were watching the pain of very real people. It was hard. We hurt along with them. We hurt for them. Why were we all so determined not to show that thing that we complain is lacking in our world—empathy?

Why do we suppress the public display of a very human reaction? Is crying not as natural as laughing? It’s not overtly taught, but somehow we have all gotten the message—it is embarrassing, shameful even, to cry openly. Stay strong. Chin up. Carry on. We hear these words of encouragement all of the time. Are they the wrong words? Is the subliminal message if you don’t do these things you are weak, you are cast down, you will stay down?

In reflecting on my own tears through the years, in my youth, I rarely cried. If I did, it was usually out of frustration or anger, and very much in private. I was perceived as a strong, competent young woman who was sure of herself and up to any challenge placed in front of her. I liked the image, so I fought any tears of pain, and certainly hid them if they fell.

As the years have passed, that has changed. Oddly, now that I truly am a strong competent human being, I cry more frequently. I think, in part, not because I feel more deeply but because I feel more widely. Years bring too much insight, too much knowledge, too much awareness of the larger hurt in our world. I rarely cry for me. I cry for others. What hasn’t changed is the fight against doing it in public. I don’t always win it, but I still struggle to contain tears when others are around.

Which brings me back to why? Our society, both subtly and explicitly, teaches boys that tears are weak. We’re working to change that, but it will be a long overhaul. As women trying to gain a level foothold in the world, are we also carrying the burden of that message? Do we think we are lesser if we show emotion? Does withholding our tears make us equal?

I don’t have the answer. However, I do know that I was more uncomfortable withholding my emotions the other night than I am when I let them loose. Like laughing, crying can be more than freeing; it can prove to be downright healing. And maybe tears, like laughter, need to be shared. Perhaps, that is how we create a kinder, more compassionate culture.

feel it. the thing that you don't want to feel. feel it. and be free. — nayyirah waheed

A writer friend shared an article on Facebook. In it, Author Kate DiCamillo answers the following question with great thoughtfulness.

“How honest can an author be with an auditorium full of elementary school kids? How honest should we be with our readers? Is the job of the writer for the very young to tell the truth or preserve innocence?” (Why Children’s Books Should Be a Little Sad)

The question was asked by another author and I followed the link to his original story. I liked what DiCamillo had to say. I loved author Matt de la Peña’s story as well as his thoughts on shielding children from tough subjects. It resonated with me and I’ve been pondering it all day. Now, I don’t write for young children but I have spent a good part of my life working with them and I heartily agree with his reflection on his own child’s first brush with grief.

“But maybe these minor episodes of loss are just as vital to the well-adjusted child’s development as moments of joy.”

Further on he contemplates an image in his new picture book, Love, that his publisher was hesitant to include. It's a young child hiding beneath a piano with his dog while his parents argue. The involvement of alcohol is implied by an empty glass on the piano.

“In the book world, we often talk about the power of racial inclusion — and in this respect we’re beginning to see a real shift in the field — but many other facets of diversity remain in the shadows. For instance, an uncomfortable number of children out there right now are crouched beneath a metaphorical piano. There’s a power to seeing this largely unspoken part of our interior lives represented, too. And for those who’ve yet to experience that kind of sadness, I can’t think of a safer place to explore complex emotions for the first time than inside the pages of a book, while sitting in the lap of a loved one.”

I remember trying to find books to support children going through tough times. Those books were few and far between, often kept on separate shelves for teachers so that a child wouldn’t accidentally pick up a book that might be traumatic. Attitudes have changed since then and there is a growing number of amazing books.

His thoughts on this appealed to the educator me. His conclusion lent affirmation to the writer me. In my stories, I dip into the darkness with teens. It is something I don’t take lightly. I have agonized as I navigate the line between authentically representing traumatizing moments and not taking it too far, making the emotional aspect unbearable for the teen reader. I strive for that balance. My greatest wish for my novels is that teens either see themselves in my stories and find comfort in that, or recognize others and develop empathy. For me, that is the ultimate writing success.

“That’s why I write books. Because the little story I’m working on alone in a room, day after day, might one day give some kid out there an opportunity to 'feel.'” —Matt de la Peña

The full article: Why We Shouldn’t Shield Children From Darkness

Check out the video of this beautiful book at http://mattdelapena.com/