Cultural sensitivity (i.e. I’m way too sensitive)

I know, I know, I shouldn’t be so sensitive. I’ve taken intercultural communication classes, traveled to 14 countries, and I know that it’s easy to take things out of context, or get lost in translation, but still, I secretly get offended. What can I say, I’m a highly sensitive person, and Latinos are much more blunt and honest than most Americans. The most offensive cross-cultural comment I received was by a Nigerian, we were eating dinner and he looks at me and says, “Tina, you are getting very fat.” I couldn’t bear to finish my delicious plate of arroz con dulce, and it took everything I had not to cry right then and there. I was absolutely horrified despite knowing full well that being fat is actually a compliment in his culture, that knowledge didn’t really help the situation though. The way I saw it, whether he thought “fat” was attractive, or unattractive, he still called me fat. It’s kind of like a woman thinking bald, chubby men are sexy, whether you like it or not, the dude is still bald and portly.

Thank goodness nothing like that has happened here in Honduras. But being the only American here, I tend to feel totally out of my element and like I have something to prove, thus there were a few moments last week when I had to bite my tongue and wear a smile instead.

Strike one: a co-worker handed me a flyer and then asked me if I knew how to read (in Spanish), he genuinely didn’t think I could. Sure, I suppose that’s a pretty innocent, rational question to ask a foreigner. But here’s the thing, I can read very well in Spanish, thank you very much. He doesn’t speak any other languages so he probably doesn’t know that reading a language is the easy part, speaking is much harder. It really shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.

Strike two: Another co-worker asks about my background, I tell her my family is Puerto Rican. “Oh,” she says, “that’s why you speak a little bit of Spanish.” I’m sorry, did you just say that I speak un poquito de español? To me, un poquito de español pretty much means you can say, “Hola, uno, dos, tres, and ¿dónde está el baño?”

Pero, por favor, ¡dame un poco de respeto! Have I not been speaking to you for the last week in Spanish, and you can generally understand what I’m saying? I can conjugate my verbs, have good pronunciation and even know what the verb tense pluscuamperfecto de subjuntivo means. I mean, geez louise! I´ll be the first to admit I have a lot to learn and make a ton of mistakes, but can I please get a little credit for trying?

In reality that wasn’t that bad, I’ve had the same conversation end like this on more than one occasion:
“You speak Spanish very well, where did you learn to speak like that?”
“Oh thank you, my family is Puerto Rican.”
“Oooh, I see. Well in that case, your Spanish isn’t very good.”

Excuse me sir, would you mind getting me a band-aid for my ego? You better make it a small one because it seems to be shrinking every minute I talk to you, in fact I can barely see it now, oh, wait never mind, it’s now completely deflated.

And finally there was strike three, which was much more religious in context:

Girl: You’re not SDA are you?
Tina: Yes, I am.
Girl: Oh.
Tina: Why did you think I wasn’t?
Girl: Never mind.
Tina: No, really, I want to know. I know what you’re going to say anyway.
Girl: Well, it’s because you have that weird ear piercing.
Tina: I knew it. But you’re SDA and you just told me you have your belly button pierced.
Girl: Yeah, but that’s hidden.

When I was in São Tomé, some girls from church asked me why I had my piercing, which is called a snug. I don’t know what they were expecting me to say-- that it’s a symbol of oppression and I won’t remove it until Tibet is free? I have it because I like it, that’s why.

This reminded me of a conversation I had with my sister the night before I left for Honduras. She’s walking around my room and asking me I am going to take various things with me to Honduras, and I keep saying no. After a few minutes she says “But tuna, you’re leaving behind everything that makes you, you.”
As much as I enjoy wearing them, I don’t think that my fedora hat, fair-trade jewelry, hoodies, and black, green and blue nail polishes make me me. For one thing, those things scream “I’m an American, please hike up the prices of your merchandise for me,” or “go ahead and mug me”. But more importantly, I knew full well the type of culture I was entering, and I am very much trying to be respectful of that.
So why on earth, you may ask, did I chose to leave in my uncommonly placed ear piercing? Well, first of all it’s ridiculously hard to remove, but mostly, I kind of figure I’m giving so much up for a year, that I wanted to keep one thing. A part of me also feels that it is a bit fake to pretend not to wear or do things and then go back home and wear it again. I’m just trying to truthfully represent myself. While being respectful of a very conservative culture, I’m not trying to be someone I’m not. For me, wearing my ear piercing, the only piece of jewelry I wear here (which is pretty much hidden by my hair by the way) is a moot point. It does not mean I am not a Christian, or that I have a poor relationship with Jesus, or that I consider it “my god”. So please, respect my choice and don’t judge me for it or make assumptions based on it because I’m not judging you. Think of it as my own personal example of spreading tolerance among Christians, and that’s why I put up with having this conversation over and over again.

Quote for today:
Certainly travel is more than the seeing of sights, it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living. – Miriam Beard

T-bird, over and out.

P.S. Although it may look like it, I’m not a big fan on a one-sided conversations, your comments are always very much appreciated.