Culture is a very interesting thing.
It reflects a fundamental difference in the way people think, in what
makes a country's morals and traditions. It's what makes the
distinction in what's polite or rude.
For example, in China it may not be an
insult to call someone fat. Americans would be up in arms, but to
the Chinese, you are calling them healthy and strong, hearkening back
to the days of famine when people didn't have enough to eat.
Chinese people push and shove, jump in
line, and in general look out for number one. I have never seen a
Chinese person hold open a door for someone else or give up their
place in line. Americans are outraged by line-jumpers and consider
pushing past someone for the elevator an outright sin.
China is also full of spitting,
farting, and multiple other actions we Americans find abhorrent.
But. Culture is not just about
countries. I learned something this week. Culture can also be from
your family.
For example.
I don't usually say “please” or
“excuse me” to close family members. (My mother is dying of
shock and embarrassment right now, but hang in there, Mom, I have a
point.) To me, based on my family experience, “excuse me” is
very formal. Very polite. Something you absolutely do with people
you are not as thick as thieves with, but not necessarily with your
dad or sister or husband.
Dad and I cooked a lot in the kitchen
when I was a teenager. If I was chopping onions at the counter and
Dad needed something in the drawer I was standing in front of, he'd
pat my hip in a nonverbal “hey I need to get in there, would you
mind stepping aside for just a moment? Thanks” and yes, I got all
that from a flick of his fingers. Did this insult me? Nope. It was
a sign of our closeness, evidence of our understanding of each other
that I didn't find this rude or annoying. It was normal.
Acceptable. And frankly, when you're carrying on a conversation,
it's nice not to have to interrupt each other for a social nicety.
I do this with my sister too. Mom, not
so much (here ya go, Mom) because she always tried to teach us
etiquette. I even seem to recall the purchase of a book on the
subject that she read to us at the dinner table. Poor Mom, she had
an audience who were talking with their mouths full, leaning on
elbows, and reaching across each other for butter or salt and pepper.
But she never stopped trying. (Props to Mom, you can stop blushing
now!)
“Please” has always been a kind of
understood thing with me, too. I think it's in the voice, in the
tone, in the phrasing of the request. If said correctly, “hey, can
you pass the potatoes?” is as polite and unoffensive as “pardon
me, but my plate seems to be lacking in the potato area, would you
mind ever so much passing them this way when you have a moment,
please? They are currently residing at your left elbow.”
That's my family culture, despite my
mother's best efforts.
My husband disagrees.
“Please” and “excuse me” are
non-negotiable to him. It's pushy to budge him out of my way in the
kitchen and disrespectful to leave off the “please”. What I take
as signs of closeness, to him are not only irritating but possibly
relationship-damaging. His favorite argument is that if you need to
hear an “I love you” even though you know good and well that
person loves you, then you need to hear a “please” or “excuse
me” even when you know that person is not intentionally being rude.
Family culture. Who knew?
This came up in a...um,
conversation...this weekend and has instigated a great deal of
thought on my part. Living in a completely different culture exposes
us to opposite ways of thinking on a daily basis, but it's still
somehow surprising to see it in each other.
I'd love to end this post with a really
deep thought or genius conclusion. I have none. However, I do know
that I will be making an attempt to finally make my mom proud and
re-learn the p's and q's of etiquette.
