The Life-Changing Art of Talking to Strangers

Recently, I was asked to blurb a book called Once Upon a Stranger. In it, I learned fascinating insights on why talking to strangers can benefit you in ways that even your most intimate relationships can’t. I interviewed the author, Gillian Sandstrom, an associate professor of psychology at the University of Sussex.

Marisa Franco: How did you get interested in talking to strangers?

Gillian Sandstrom: One is my dad, who’s an epic stranger-talker. I grew up watching him do it, but I never really understood why he felt so compelled. It seemed like he just couldn’t help himself. But I’m an introvert, so I thought, that’s not for me.

Two, when I was in my mid-30s, I met a woman who worked at a hot dog stand near my campus in Toronto. I was doing my master’s degree at the time, dealing with a lot of imposter syndrome, as many people feel when working on graduate degrees—it was also a career shift for me, so I was carrying around a lot of doubt. And somehow this little micro-relationship with her started to matter a great deal. I never bought a hot dog, never even really talked to her, but we’d smile and wave at each other. It made me feel so seen and comfortable.

MF: That reminds me of a study you cite in your book—that even making eye contact makes people feel more connected. I found that really interesting. I think we really underestimate the power of something that small in changing someone’s experience of connection.

GS: Yes, and I have a story about that. During the COVID lockdown, we were only allowed to leave the house for exercise, so I was going for walks in the park every day. One day, I was completely in my head—stressed, anxious, I don’t even know what about anymore—and I walked past a woman pushing a baby carriage, and she just smiled at me. It didn’t make all the bad stuff go away, but it felt like a shock to the system. It helped me find the space to think, okay, everything’s going to be fine. And that was from just one tiny moment of connection.

MF: It’s beautiful, especially because you still remember it. I don’t think people go home thinking, “If I smile at this person, maybe years later they’ll be telling a story about how meaningful it was.”

GS: I actually suspect most people have stories like that—times a stranger made a huge difference to them. Maybe we remember those moments more because we don’t expect them.

MF: That brings me to another point from your book: the argument that strangers can actually provide benefits that our intimate relationships don’t. Can you break that down?

GS: Strangers and weak ties both offer things we don’t always get from close relationships. I have a chapter in my book called “No Strings,” and the idea is that you can share a moment with a stranger and be quite intimate, sometimes more easily than with people you’re close to. With close relationships, there’s more risk—what if they’re not okay with what I share? What if it makes things awkward? But with a stranger, it doesn’t carry that weight. Research in health psychology shows people often find it easier to talk about stigmatized issues, like addiction, with people they don’t know well, because there’s less shame involved.

There’s also a practical element: We don’t always spend time with the people we’re closest to. Sometimes the person who’s simply there is exactly what we need in that moment.

MF: You also talk about how strangers often give wiser responses than the people closest to us. Can you say more about that?

GS: Of course, I think it comes from objectivity. The people we’re close to tend to be similar to us—similar values, similar experiences. People we don’t know are more likely to have different perspectives and life experiences that give us a fresh take on things. There’s a small asterisk, though—they might recommend a course of action they themselves wouldn’t take. We’re actually wiser when advising others than when taking our own advice.

MF: One thing I really appreciated, especially now when there’s so much uncertainty—probably globally, but definitely in the U.S., threats to democracy, people being laid off—is your point that talking to strangers can help us tolerate uncertainty. Can you say more about that?

GS: So many thoughts. I think one reason talking to strangers feels scary is that there’s literally no way to know how the conversation will go. You can’t predict it. That’s unsettling, but if you get into the practice of doing it, you start to confront that uncertainty and realize it’s okay. Everything turned out fine. And I think that lesson generalizes. We can control very little of what happens in our lives, and it’s healthier to accept that.

What’s interesting is that my friend recently noticed that people at protests are talking to strangers much more than usual—because they have something obvious in common, which makes it easy to start a conversation.

A student emailed me recently—she was traveling home, and the bus broke down, and she said normally she would have just plugged in her headphones and gone inward. Instead, she talked to a woman nearby, and they ended up chatting about Dickens and the holidays. She said she felt so much calmer.

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I had a similar experience at the airport when security rules changed, and there was a massive line. The person next to me was on the same flight. Just chatting, knowing we were in it together—it made the whole thing feel less scary. Talking to someone helps when we’re uncertain.

You can find the full recap of our conversation on my Substack.

This transcript was lightly edited for clarity.

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