A woman stands in a room filled with heavy perfume. The aroma is sweet, regal, and composed of different branches of scents that all stem from the same tree. Her own branch is soaked into her fabric and is cut in a design that has been worn by several mothers before her. Gold accompanies this fabric and ties together the look of the woman. Her layered bracelets create a rhythm as she snaps to the beat of the room. The keyboard plays a somewhat funky beat and while every so often out of tune, brings melodic smiles to the room together as they all snap and sway in sync. I would say this is the first prominent image that comes to mind when the word culture is brought up. I trace it back to my home culture, the one I’ve been born into and have gone through trials and tribulations with. Those who belong to the ethnicity hold a plethora of facial traits that we can all pinpoint and immediately know where the other is from. The connection we share transcends from physical features to personality. For instance, our hospitality is beautiful, as soon as you walk through the door you are immediately graced with warmth. In dire times, we will all come as a flock and make sure others are placed in good care. With being raised under a sense of community and shared pride, I am filled with images of my family back home, smells such as incense and heavy perfume, and foods that I can present to others with eagerness.
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Culture is a universal topic that is experienced in an idiosyncratic way. Everyone has felt, experienced, and held it, whether they’ve known it or not. According to the Oxford Dictionary, culture is defined to be, “The way of life of a people, including their attitudes, values, beliefs, arts, sciences, modes of perspective, and habits of thought and activity.” I envision culture to be something that one can grasp, meaning it can be held close or loosely depending on the person. For some, their culture has been held tight for years and never questioned. For others, it’s been vacant: rather than in their hands, it’s in the background and never to be thought of greatly. Lastly, the remainder is held loosely and hovers as a question. I was once in this category, but I’m slowly finding my way out.
Growing up, my culture was defined by my family. They raised me to be sure of where I came from and its significance, which is something I am appreciative of and will never face with hatred. However, it was strictly my point of view for the majority of my childhood. I saw the world under the scope of my culture and it affected how I viewed dilemmas, ideas, and the people around me. It was the rhythm I swayed to until I felt its consequences. As I grew up, I developed a mindset of my own that would clash with the realm I was raised in. As a teenager, I would often find myself uneasy, not knowing which would be considered the right answer when facing opportunities, problems, etc. More than often I went along with my mindset and was ridiculed for it. The rhythm wasn’t steady; it was turbulent due to me constantly fighting the feeling of isolation. At the end of its tune, I was left with alienation and pondering where I stood in terms of my original point of view and the one I was raised into. Realizing the reality of what I have grown up with, seeing both the beauty and the ugly, caused me to take a step back and reflect on what I deem to be my own.
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She was seated and part of an edge of the circle of women before her. They clapped their hands and cackled as jokes were thrown around the room. Sweets were laid out on the table along with a detailed teapot. Tea was passed out in beautiful china and each lady had a drink curated to her liking. As time passed, her laughing grew soft and came to a stop. However the room’s liveliness didn’t come to an end, the laughter grew louder and the circle became tighter as the topic of conversation shifted to her. Her life has been put on display, a comedy show, and it laid before her.
–☆–
Reality holds what is both beautiful and ugly, something I believe everything possesses. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. However, when the bad outweighs the good, it’s hard to stand behind the veil of support. In terms of negativity, I have been met with both external and internal factors. My culture’s value orientation was a huge battle for me. Although there were some I agreed with, I was always faced with negative ones, like the openness of judgment and the confinement to one mindset. Judgment from community leaders, an external factor, is something I believe a lot of people can relate to. The constant stares that hold more definition than a longing gaze. It is chilling and creates a feeling of unsettlement and alienation. Some comments push the notation of judgment. The hostile culture of slandering others for entertainment was something I was used to. As a kid, I would sit around with the women and men of my culture and hear them as they make jokes and hark on the livelihood of others. I felt as if there would be moments where you could simply be breathing and that could be hated on. I remember telling my mom about it and her simply saying to “ignore it,” something that is easy in hindsight, but difficult to do when all eyes are on you, and ready to capture a fault so it can then be broadcasted to others.
I have also been met with internal factors filled with close-mindedness, one of the most prominent being gender roles; one that I believe is outdated and slowly evolving but still holds a major place. Beliefs rooted in misogyny, I was constantly told the role of women and that I should partake in it. Roles were forced upon me solely due to me being a woman. One that many can guess to be the stereotypical, your place is in the kitchen type beat. Said views have also stopped me from partaking in things that were viewed as masculine due to me “not being equipped enough.”
When both internal and external factors were rebutted, I was left to question how much of my culture I truly portrayed or if those factors were considered to be my culture. That’s when the emotion of guilt rose. I would go to events and see those who have grown up in the same circumstances I have, dive into the complex culture we hold effortlessly. As I would look around and see those partake in something I couldn’t quite connect with anymore, I felt like a poser, hanging by a thread from the ribbon that connects me with the rest. Questioning the topic as a whole, I wondered if it would be possible to turn away from culture, claiming nothing to be your own and to simply exist.
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The woman looks in the mirror, she’s wearing the same fabric as she was at the party. A night that started exalted and ended with her feeling lowly. Unsure of what to make of the night, she stands defeated.
–☆–
I took that step back, accepting that I could not force the feeling of attachment. It also gave me time to reflect on what I could potentially gain in the future. In that period of waiting, I decided to simply live. This was done by going about my days and not trying to continuously decipher this question I printed on myself.
As time passed, answers appeared to me naturally. For example, as I went to high school, I started to meet those who looked like me racially, which allowed me to delve into that culture and see the similarity it held with my first introduction to culture. To this day, it hasn’t been a culture I’ve struggled with the thought of not belonging to, I have always felt very firm in my placement in said culture.
As time went on, I drove into my passions and things that I claim to be a part of myself. Around the time of joining college, things such as fashion, music, and art were communities I found myself joining. Being around like-minded people, I filled out the criteria of culture. I took part in arts, social institutions, and customs. With time, I found the answer to my question: that there’s no such thing as not having a culture.
At this point, I saw that I wasn’t cultureless, but I still faced the dilemma of not being connected to my home culture. As of recently, I have looked back on my journey and realized that I was seeing things through a different lens. Not the ones my family or even my fellow peers have. The cultural lens is also known as the perspective through one’s culture. In “How Culture Drives Behaviors” a TED talk by Julien S. Bourelle, he talks about the importance of cultural diversity. In doing so, he brings up the idea of “cultural glasses,” a figurative way of seeing the world through our cultural behaviors. For example, as Americans it is normal to strike up a conversation with a stranger. However, in many other countries, it isn’t. If we were to randomly start a conversation in a country such as Denmark, where it’s seen as invasive, and not be met with the same reaction we would here in America, we could see that person being rude. Hence both America and Denmark have different cultural lenses, which depict how they view and respond to behaviors.
I have now developed a lens through which I choose to see the world. One that’s diluted in the culture I was born into and concentrated with the one I adapted to. It’s something I feel guilty about, but ultimately think that it has helped me grow as a person who leads the life I would like. For example, I no longer bask in the negative traits I once resented. I take traits I admire, and although creating my own ratio of what I present can be looked down upon, I feel better as a person. Not to say that those who do consume all aspects of the culture (good and bad) are not good people. They simply lead the life they wish to. I chose to take the hospitality my home culture taught me. One that gives the opposite emotion the stares brought, comfort and courtesy. I claim traits that connect me with a group in which I can partake in such conversations that steer from isolation such as fashion, hair, and occasional humor. I plan to leave things such as double standards and social stigma.
Culture is a beautiful thing, it ties us to being human and is the core of what makes our individuality. The ability to create a connection with others over shared beliefs, behaviors, art, and more, is something that can’t be explained and fully grasped until experienced. Specifically in traditional culture, having something that belongs to you and the people who have come before is ethereal. You get a gift that you can pass on to generations to come. Where we come from is a part of what makes us who we are. We show it to the world where we can sometimes find comfort and sometimes not.
I believe you can connect to your culture on different levels, being all in, taking and leaving some aspects, or not participating at all. Of the latter two mentioned, it could be easy to feel some remorse and neglect of the responsibility bestowed on you. It should be reiterated that you will forever have a tether to your culture. It was the first thing granted to you, and even if you don’t associate yourself with it anymore, you can’t change your origin story. Unfortunately, there can be people who make you feel otherwise, meaning hatred from outside parties, in which one should hold their head high. Life is a game with one player, you choose what feels right to you and your morals. How one interacts with their culture is catered to the person and the life they wish to live, who is anyone to decide whether that’s good or bad?
Graphics by Hassam Virk