Privacy

The French close their shutters every night so no one can see into their homes.  They don't talk about money, they don't talk to people on the metro, they don't give out their names, and it doesn't matter what they do for a living.  But they'll invite you in to their dining room, feed you, have a conversation with you about their children, their house in the country, and give you a jar of fig jam if you show interest.  This is the gist of the chapter I read today.  And I love it.

It's privacy.  It's a different notion of what is private, and what isn't private.  The home, the family, personal decisions--those are all private, to the extent that 'scandals' aren't really scandals at all but simply not your business.  And yet arguing, disagreeing, eating are not private matters, but in fact more public than we as Americans would think.

Hospitality is expected on many accounts, but only if you do it the right way--the French way.  Saying bonjour and au revoir as you enter and leave a shop, for example, will get you good service.  What has this to do with privacy?  Well, you're coming into someone else's private domain, and in doing so, it is only polite to greet and give farewells to the person whose home or business you enter.  However, asking someone outright what their name is will create immediate barriers.  Why?  Because whether they want to be contacted by you again should be their decision--not yours.

Also, it seems to me, the French are not worried about finding and keeping people they like to share company with, or converse with, because they figure that those people will find and gravitate toward each other.  And they seem less worried about wasting time with the wrong sort of people, because I don't think there's a worry about wasting time, or a worry about "wrong people."

Nadeau and Barlow point out one interesting difference I really enjoy: that is, the conversation between couples.  "They typical American couple seeks to display harmony. . . . The French expect exactly the opposite: . . . a relationship should be strong enough to withstand differences" (43-44).  It's not that American relationships aren't strong enough to withstand differences, because in fact they withstand all sorts of differences all the time, but that arguments in public seem distasteful to them.  And thus the French seem to value idea-oriented discussion rather than relationship-oriented discussion.  Meaning, they attack ideas, not the person.  And in doing so, a little arguing is hardly anything to bat an eye over.

This is an interesting cultural difference to me and it reveals how to go about talking to people in different ways.  Knowing and remembering someone's name in our culture is not only a sign of respect, but engenders trust.  Not so in France, where asking for someone's name is a breach of privacy.  Eating in our culture is our business, we eat what we want when we want it.  Not in France.  Eating is important, and therefore is something you do a particular way, something you allot time for, something you do communally with others.  I don't think either is inherently wrong or right, but different for explainable reasons.  So I better master bonjour and au revoir if I want to make people in France happy, which I do.

I am white and white is black and black is white and black is black

I need a post to do some thinking, or else the thinking just won't get done.  Lately I've been asking myself what I'm doing this for.  What's the point of doing all this work?  How does it apply to me when I'm looking at history and not necessarily interviewing people?  And who will I talk to, and what will I spend my time doing?  And what do I want to come out of this field study with?  What do I want to know?  Why do I have to go to France to know it?

People have written all sorts of things on the blacks in France, especially those who went there after the Great War.  And I think most of the people who have written biographies or histories of appreciating these people have far more authority and understanding than I do.  I'm not really trying to compete with them on any publishing level, and I'm aware that next to no one will read whatever it is I come up with in the end, but I have to do something that I find worthwhile.

What got me interested in this idea is that I haven't met a whole lot of people who know about the blacks in Paris the way they know about the whites in Paris.  The elephant in the room is Midnight in Paris in which no black expatriates are present apart from Josephine Baker in the back of the room.  Sure you see F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Zelda, Gertrude Stein, and Hemingway--all important American players in Paris at the time, but why the hell didn't he talk to Josephine Baker, and where were Ada "Bricktop" Smith, James Reese Europe and Gene Bullard?  Why wasn't he having conversations with intellectuals like Langston Hughes?  Or at the very least, why weren't they present the way they should have been?

This is what American Studies is about for me--why are we so certain that American=white when it doesn't?  What I want for myself is to put these people in an American context as Americans and I don't want the most famous of these people--Josephine Baker--to be a "who's that?" anymore.  Now I guess I can't change anything, and I'm more than aware of that.  So what's the point then?  What do I want out of this given that I can't make a difference?  If this is just a jumping off point, a place where I can learn how to develop some important skills.

More and more I'm thinking maybe I do want to find an African-American community in Paris and talk to the people I find.  In English, in French.  But whose to assume they'll let me if I do find them?  And that's why I want a backup plan.  What I would want to interview these people for is to put the people I'm currently interested in, in context.

Why I have to go to France is a harder question to answer because I could theoretically just study African-Americans in Paris and Paris itself and the 1920s and black history and then apply all the things I want to about American Studies to my book-learned understanding.  The reason I want to go to France is purely selfish.  I want to be an American in Paris.  I want to know what it's like, and I want to know how it differs from the things I read about these people going through.  I want to walk the streets they walked, and I want to learn they language they had to learn.  I want to live in the city that is well-known for racial equality, and I want to know if that's true.  I want to meet people, especially black Americans, and I want to know what life has been like for them in Paris.  Is it like the Paris of the 1920s in any way?  But most of all--what is it about France and Paris in particular that attracted these people?  Is it just the romance of the place, or is it something else?

I never believe that romance jazz about Paris.  Then I went there, and somehow I understood what people meant.  That's why I think I need to go for a longer period of time.  Because you can be told a lot of things about a place, but can you really put yourself in the context of it without experiencing it?  I don't think you can.

Why are we so set on not including the African-American experience in with the study of "America."  We talk about how slavery affected the black American population, but always with the intention of switching back to "white mode" and how it affects whites now.  Who the hell cares how it affects whites now when it's still something that's present in this country for blacks now?

I loved Midnight in Paris, but I remember thinking at the end of that movie, after thinking about how much I thoroughly enjoyed it, that it was still a white-washed American history, even if it was in Paris.  And I KNOW you can't tell every story at once, but I don't understand why it has to be a white story OR a black story, when we've been together, whites and blacks, all this time.  It's the 21st century.  Isn't it about time we started talking about how separate our histories are?  Isn't it about time we started melding them?  After all, I, a white girl from Los Angeles couldn't be American without the African presence, and a black girl from Virginia certainly couldn't be American without the Anglo presence.  That's kind of what makes us uniquely American.  Is anyone else willing to admit that?

This project idea still needs a lot of work, I guess that much is obvious.

The art of culture: Communication

In class we were discussing how what you do (and don't do) by means of gathering information in your field research will blatantly affect what information you come out of your field study with.  This is particularly pertinent to my project since what I think it means to be American will directly impact how I interpret the experiences of other Americans abroad.  Whether this has something to do with who I converse with, what books I read, what I interpret to be significant (or not significant), or whether it has to do with looking at African-American expatriates through a Anglo-American lens.

But just because you aren't like the people you study, and just because your field information will be skewed because of who you are doesn't mean you shouldn't do the research.  Though, I do think that it might be helpful to get a better handle on what I think it means to be an American so I can put it aside and reassess American-ness through someone else's perspective.

There are ten elements of culture we discussed today, and the first I want to discuss is Communication.  As I work in the Field Study office, I was going through some of Malcolm's files and found a worksheet, "Contrast Your Communication Styles with Host Nationals."  I don't know about my Host Culture's communication styles yet, so I won't guess.  What I will do is compare mine to my Home Country, which the worksheet also facilitates.

Direct/Indirect Communication

Me: First, I think I'm a low-context communicator about 95% of the time.  I use direct communication: what I say is what I mean, I do not beat around the bush.  I'm not manipulative or passive aggressive when communicating with others.  It doesn't help me, so I don't do it.  And though I can often read what other people want when they communicate with me, unless they use direct communication, I rarely--if ever--humor/indulge them with an answer.  I dislike acting on others' indirect communication because it is so often used against you if you should misinterpret.  Because I am not easily offended, this doesn't usually end up hurting me if they should decide to tell me what they want in a more direct manner later on.

Home: In class today it was said that Americans tend to be more or less "direct" communicators (i.e. low-context communicators).  You can take most of what Americans say at face value and just believe them.  I agree about this in comparison to many other cultures, however, I think that if you want to cut it a different way, women tend to be thought of as 'indirect communicators' while men tend to be thought of as 'direct communicators.'  Also, perhaps privileged Anglo-Americans feel more comfortable being direct communicators while less privileged-class Americans tend to be indirect communicators.  I believe this because I believe that indirect communication is a consequence of not being allowed/permitted/accepted as direct communicators.

Linear/Circular Communication

Me: I'd say it depends on the point I'm trying to get across, that I am both linear and circular.  I say what I need to say often, but I am willing to have a circular conversation, and most conversations for the sake of conversation end up being circular in my book.  Also, as I tell stories, circular motion is often the only way to go, but I reserve this for written stories, as most people's attention spans are two short-lived for circular story telling.

Home: It varies from person to person.  I don't know that you can say an American communicates linearly or circularly.  I'd say that like me, most people in my home country fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, using each when it is most applicable or appropriate.

Detached/Attached Communication

Me: This is a real issue for me as I am both, and I think this is why my form of communication really 1.) confuses people, 2.) is often misread/misunderstood, 3.) is responded to negatively.  Detached communication, "issues are discussed with calmness and objectivity.  Emotion is kept at a minimum, and objectivity is preferred over subjectivity.  People who use detached communication may feel that they are just being rational and fair."  Attached: "issues are discussed with a high level of emotion and feeling.  People communicating this way think they are showing sincerity or personal concern for the topic and the person with whom they are interacting."  Now, what I do: I am usually detached from my topic.  I am very objective, so I will present a side of a conversation without knowing if I fully believe it.  I almost always feel very calm and objective when conversing with others.  HOWEVER, I discuss everything with lots of passion.  I therefore come across as being factual and opinionated.  Because I express my 'argument' with passion, people expect it is my personal opinion, and so have a difficult time arguing against it for fear of offending me.  Because I remain unaffiliated with most conversation topics (in my mind), almost always feel I am being rational and fair by presenting a side of the issue--whether I believe it or not--while others interpret my passion as perhaps decided and unchangeable.  Because these two modes of communication are usually considered contrary, I am very often misunderstood as disagreeing with someone when in actuality I was agreeing with them.  I get many negative reactions to things I am saying because people interpret my indirect communication incorrectly rather than listen to the words I am actually saying.  Confusing enough?  Yes, that's what I've been told.

Home: I think people tend to be one or the other.  I have a hard time with people who show little-to-no passion about anything.  But I can see how my form of communication could get extremely confusing.  I think women, homes, or religious institutions tend to communicate in an 'attached' manner.  Though, to be fair, people who tend towards feeling or emotion are more 'attached' communicators.  However, there is a good potion of our culture that prides itself in and expects detached communication.  You find this in the work place, or in the education system.  There are certain places where either/or are expected or appropriate within our culture.

Idea-oriented/Relationship-oriented

Me: I am 100% an idea-oriented communicator.  "In this form of communication, disagreement with ideas is stated directly, with the assumption that only the idea, not the person from whom the idea came, is being attacked."  However, I am very aware that others are relationship-oriented where "disagreeing with an idea is viewed the same as disagreeing with the person who originated it.  Intellectual disagreement in particular is handled more subtly and indirectly.  This communication style emphasizes interpersonal harmony and strives to maintain the relationship between people."  I consider idea-oriented communication the ability to "play" with ideas, to flesh them out, to beat them down, to roll them out and stretch them, and see what they can go through in order to decide if it's something I believe.  Others become very frustrated by this tendency I have because they think I am attacking them, which is never ever the case.  Others, when they argue with me about one of my ideas, interpret my response as offended, when really it's just the here-to-fore discussed 'passion.'  This is my biggest communication problem with my family as I play with ideas, while treating the relationship unaffiliated with the ideas.  My family rarely feels this way, and often thinks I am attacking their opinion.

Home: I think most people are relationship-oriented by socialization.  I don't know how I missed the boat.  I think it's less okay to be unable to be idea-oriented in a collaborative work environment though you always have the person in your work group who is unable to take idea-criticism and therefore is always offended by one thing or another.  Realizing that most are relationship-oriented makes me feel very boxed-in and caged, as I have to think and re-think the way I present a thought I have so not to offend anyone which usually skews the correct and clear communication of the idea itself.  However, when I try to by myself and state an idea the way I think it, I am not usually met with acceptance.  I think in desire to maintain relationships people have with others through this type of communication no one really ends up being themselves, but a person with layers and layers of filters.  I have yet to find a good thing about this, though I know there should be.  (I'll give it more thought.)

Signing off for now, to continue to think about communication styles.

Japanese childhood.

Monday, 23 January 2012 is Chinese New Year.  In celebration, Kate and I went to Four Seasons in Provo and ordered some dumplings and steamed buns.  When we returned home to eat our delicious stash of perfect food, we promptly finished it and realized we had not ordered nearly enough.  In the car again, straight out into the snow, we returned to downtown Provo to Chao's.

While there, I remembered a partially forgotten childhood in which Keiko Tapp, a Japanese woman, raised me in part on all sorts of food one could never find in the Playstead house.  I don't even know the names of these snacks and foods, but as I wandered the Chinese grocery store (for the express purpose of getting more steamed buns) I saw and remembered eating rice cakes, and cookies, and seaweed, Pocky sticks and Hello Panda's.  I could taste them on my tongue again--an odd idea.  And she probably didn't even think twice about sharing them with me, but I remember them.  And it became part of my culture.

It makes this job of a Field Study far too big for me, for not everything can be taken into account, which is always the case in life.  I think about how every time someone dies millions of pieces of information die with them: elements of who they were that no one knew, cared to ask about, or could even know to wonder.  We can't even figure out ourselves, let alone others.

People are not to be studied, or figured out.  They're to be enjoyed, cared about, talked to, shared with.  I'm really not interested in studying anything.  I'm interested in a good conversation.