Ceci n'est pas une endive - Tag - culture shock

Empathy, Culture and the Words You Use

notafish — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 17:02:00 +0200

Je suis une empathique. De base, de tout coeur et jusqu'au bout de mes orteils. Pourtant, j'ai beaucoup de mal avec certaines personnes, notamment issues de la culture nord-américaine, qui abusent de mots teintés d'empathie et leur font perdre leur force. Je me suis trouvée dans plusieurs situations de communication où l'utilisation d'un discours empathique m'a fait me poser la question de savoir si la personne qui l'émettait n'était pas en train d'essayer de m'endormir à coup de positif et bons sentiments, une situation où l'utilisation de mots qui ont leur origine dans les sentiments n'étaient pas "ressentis" mais "pensés".

In the many scales that exist about characterizing one's personality, be it Myers Briggs or Process Com, i inevitably fall under the "empathic" or "feeling" type. I guess no matter how many of these tests I'd take, this will always be the main streak in my character. I feel first, thought and reason come second. I value too, but that's for another blogpost. It is both the bane of my existence, and a strength I've learned to use in communication with others.

I've lived in the United States for two years. And there is one thing that I really haven't managed to this day to understand, or rather, to come to terms with, it's what I would characterize as superficial empathy. I observed North Americans quite a bit, and in my observations, I often came across people who use and overuse a tone, or words, which want themselves to be empathic, but which simply don't touch me. The use, or rather overuse, of "I love", "I like", "you are great" and other positive sounding wording just does not sound right to my empathic ears.

I think there are two different occasions in which this bothers me.

First, with people I don't know. I came with the idea of this blogpost while reading a blog where the blogger answered most comments (which I think is good) by praising the person who commented, their thoughts and thanking them. The thanking I find great, I think we never thank enough. The praising however, after the first three comments, struck me as a fake calculated tactic to make people "feel good". Except just reading those answers made me feel uncomfortable. Too much love spoils the love, I would say. To some extent, reading these comments in a row made me feel as if the author was putting everyone on the same level. If I'm being great, somehow, in my mind's eye, it must be because I am to some extent "better" than others. Maybe I have the wrong scale here, but I want to feel special. Not part of a chain-letter type answer to my commentary which puts me on a par with everyone else. Praising is good too, don't get me wrong. I also find we don't praise enough. But I guess I have a limit. It's a bit like eating caviar everyday. After a while, you don't realize that it's a special thing anymore. North Americans, I find, do that a lot (again, this is a generalization and not all North Americans, but it is a trend I have noticed there and in no other country I have visited or lived in). And frankly there comes a time I don't believe this appreciation any more. To me, it end up being a fake varnish of appreciation, which might work for a while, but ends up losing all kind of reality. Mind you, I suppose if you read just the one comment addressed to you, you'd probably feel good. But reading all of them in a row made me pause. If I wrote a comment there, and the author praised it, I would not really feel as if their words were sincere. I sincerely believe this is a very cultural thing, maybe because the French are rather stingy with praise, I don't know.

Second, with people I know. I guess here the clash comes between what I have come to know of the person, and what their words are trying to say. Example: a colleague I worked with, whom I know for a fact has absolutely no empathy whatsoever in everyday life, or in their job, but who acts in public as if they were the most empathic people in the world, appealing in their external communication to understanding, loving each other and other empathic whatnots. I guess that's even worse than the first. Again, I've only experienced this with North Americans (or could-be North Americans), and in English. I find it extremely disturbing (and here I mean it in a very physical way) to read someone's words with the knowledge that they can't possibily be "feeling" any of those words. They might "think" those words, but they don't "feel" them. And "thinking" words of love and empathy just does not cut it. Empathy comes with the heart, not with the brain. It can't be a surface thing, like a heart milk on a coffee. For the overly feeling person I am, it ends up looking like a scary propaganda tactic designed to blind people as to what the real deal is all about. It's a bit like sugar coating the bitter cake to make it taste better. Again, it's fake. And often, unfortunately, makes me miss the point of their words and try and find the catch. Which definitely isn't a good way of taking in an attempt at communicating, I guess.

I wonder if I'm the only one reading those people and feeling the same way. So I ask you, have you come across people whose words of love and empathy you could just not relate to? Do you feel/think it might have to do with culture and/or language?

Lara604, Latte Heart 2 , March 24, 2009, on Flickr, CC-BY-SA 2.0

What Is Your Single Story?

notafish — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 13:32:00 +0100

A few weeks ago, I watched a fantastic talk by Chimamanda Adichie about "The Danger of A Single Story". The talk is a year old, but the message is ageless. It made me think about what my stories of "single stories" are. I have a few, actually, here is one that particularly struck me.

When I left for the US in 1987, I was hosted in an American family for a night. My English at the time was rather bad, not to say inexistant, and I struggled trying to understand what was going on around me. The family had taken me and another girl, K., to host us for the night, while waiting for the schoolbus to come and get us in Albuquerque. It was a family of 4, with two daughters, one our age (I was 15, K. was 16 or 17 at the time and I think the daughter was 16). K. was from Bulgaria. I was, obviously, from France. The 16-year old daughter was somehow studying Eastern Europe (or had a strong interest in it) and was thrilled at the idea of having a Bulgarian (remember, this is 1987) in her house. She didn't seem to give a damn about France, which was great, because she kept on asking K. questions about her country, and left me alone. Given that we both had been travelling around 18 hours, and my English being what it was, I could only feel for K. who was being bombarded with questions about Eastern Europe. Anyway. In the course of the conversation, the girl turned to me and asked me "Is there electricity in France". I had to rub my eyes (red from lack of sleep) and make sure I had understood the question before I could answer a feeble... "yes". No words to argue, the question was so out of line from someone who had been debating the whys and whens and hows of Eastern Europe, that I was just left completely dumbstruck by the enormity of it. Off we went to sleep. The day after, the daughter took us to a Safeway (one of those big American supermarkets). I still remember K.'s wide open eyes who was, it seems, rather amazed at the display of so much "stuff" in one place. The American girl turned to me with a smug smile and asked "Do you have that in France?". I mastered the best English I could and answered "Bigger ones".

This girl had a single story. She was studying Eastern Europe and for her, Europe was that. The rest of Europe may have been a Middle-Age kind of place, without electricity or supermarkets. She didn't know. I wasn't at all knowledgeable on Eastern Europe (but kind of had an idea), and was amazed at the hundreds of questions she asked K. because I couldn't have asked such questions. But those she asked me were just... weird, she had no perspective.

It is interesting so many years after to be able to frame what was one of my first culture shocks ever. I can only urge you to watch the video. It's fun, and it's so true. And I'm curious, what is Your single story?

My Very First Culture Shock

notafish — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 12:17:00 +0200

I remember one of my first culture shocks very vividly. I probably had others before, but this one was the start of a long series, and most importantly the first I actually recalled over time.

I arrived in the US for a 2-year stay at the age of 15.So here I am, on evening in Albuquerque, New Mexico, landing in a strange country, invited to stay for the night with a "native" family.

I'll pass with the first shock of seeing 4 cars in the driveway and go directly to the greeting part. The family was a family of 4 people, parents and 2 teenagers. One of them a girl around my age. At the time, I used to kiss-on-the-cheek anyone my age, as is the custom in France. The "bise" as we call it, is a very normal greeting custom. Upon arrival, I shake the parents' hands, gathering my best English (probably close to 0) to say hello, and I go to kiss the girl on the cheek. She looks at me horrified and pushes me back before I get to her cheek. It was probably the first time anyone showed their disgust so strongly towards me. Or at least what I interepreted as disgust then, I didn't know better.

I don't think I thought about it much, until the day after, when we said good-bye. I had made the mistake once, I was not going to do it twice, so I kind of stood there, expectant, waiting for something to happen. And that's where the whole family, parents and teenagers included, started to hug me. And that's where I pushed them away, not exactly understanding that they would not allow a kiss on the cheek the day before, and suddenly would take me in their arms as if we'd known each other for ever the day after.

Since then, I learned the power of a hug and have been using it profusely, even in France, where it played a few tricks on me, I must admit. Starting a few months later, when I came back for Christmas that same year andI went to hug my sister. Whe pushed me back with disgust and kissed me on the cheek...

Greetings are, I find, one of the most difficult cultural interactions. In theory, I guess they should be a very simple thing, one human greeting another. In practice, the variations are so wide that they can hinder future interaction by not following the proper standards and procedures. Something to be aware of, always, so as to work on the first impression.

I Am Not One of Them

notafish — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 10:44:00 +0200

Via Olivier, in Ici & Ailleurs, I discovered La lanterne brisée some time ago. And the first post I read was one called Regards, which means Looks (as in gaze, not as in what you look like). I won't translate the whole cartoon, but know that basically, the main character (the author) is in Japan and wonders why everyone there looks at her in a funny way. Is it how tall she is? Or her clothes? Something else? That's for the French part, the rest is in English, you don't need me to translate).

This cartoon reminds me of a class I had ten and some years ago, for which we had to write an essay. The class was called "American Culture" and was taught by an American woman. She gave us, I found, a very interesting insight into American culture. I recall some speciific themes she tackled, such as her vision of the right to have a weapon on which she gave a historical explanation (a right entrenched in the Constitution). She was all in all a very interesting teacher. But poor her, she also was American. I say poor her although I must say that until she actually asked us to write this essay, everybody in the class had been rather nice and polite. Some debate had occurred, but nothing out of hand or out of place.

The essay she asked the class to write was rather straightforward. It went: "How has this class changed your vision of the United States". A bit dangerous I guess, but we were in post-graduate degree, so one could argue that we were smart enough to write some constructive criticism. As usual, I postponed my writing to the last minute, which gave me the opportunity to read a few of the others' essays. I was simply appalled at the tone in which some of these essays were written, basically saying that this class had not changed their mind about the United States (which is a legitimate point of view) but also basically saying that the US were a terrible country which deseved its sad fate of recrudescing violence and overwhelming Mc Donalds. In short, the essays were saying that not only the class had not helped, but that the US were beyond help. Although I personally did not agree with all of this teacher's ideas and explanations, I was at least convinced that her approach was the right one, trying to find explanations for cultural behaviours and tryign to share them with a class. She made lots of efforts and did bring some interesting lights on the US culture.

What shocked me most was the utter lack of respect of this process shown by my fellow classmates. To them, she seemed to be guilty of being an American and as such, guilty of trying to find an excuse for everything "we don't like about the US" under some sort of covert agenda destined to brainwash the masses into "America is beautiful". Well. I lived in the United States for 2 years and yes, beautiful things, as well as terrible things make that country and make it a rich and amazing country to observe and learn to know.

But I guess what I learned that was most important is that wherever you come from, trying to defend your own country is probably a mistake, as you will most of the times be taxed of controversial bias. It is easier for me to defend the United States, having lived there, having been there so many times, than it will ever be for an American, regardless of their travel and living history. I was ashamed of my French classmates and wrote a somewhat funky weird essay which tried to balance it all and which you can read here. It is very conceited (*I am different!*), but I think it still carries the point I want to make today, namely that ignorance is not the best companion for constructive criticism.

Holy state! the Church got me (again)

notafish — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 15:32:00 +0100

Well, here is the sequel to my very interesting story about the German Church getting a hold of me.

Actually, I probably need to rectify something. It is not so much the Church that got me, but the German State. So let me explain the next steps.

When I saw that the Finanzamt (Tax office) was ready to take away this "Church tax" on top of my normal taxes, I appealed. And said that I ws never told, as I registered at the townhall when I arrived in Germany, that checking that little box would make me a catholic in the eyes of... the State. I called the Finanzamt, talked with the person in charge of my file for a while, she was pretty comprehensive and said Well, why don't you write this down and send it to me, we'll see what the next step is. Which I did. That was back in November sometime. I finally got an answer a few days ago, which went something like:

According to § 5 Alinea 1 sentence 1 of the Church tax law, the obligation to pay church taxes starts on the first day of month following the date at which you have registered your residence. ... Since you have registered on the 15th of JUly 2005 and did not register your lack of confession (keine Konfessionslosigkeit), Church taxes are due as of the 1st of August 2005.

As the Germans say: Pech gehabt! (Too bad...). There is one thing that totally strikes me here, it is that they don't say "since you have registered that you were a catholic", no no, they say "since you have not registered that you were without confession". I find the phrasing (a double negation) at best uncomprehensible, at least quite ambguous. But it goes back to what I said in my earlier post, which is that basically, I failed to prove my innocence, so I'm guilty.

Well, receiveing this letter, which basically discarded the explanation I had given (ie. "I am French, in France we don't do this, when I registered, I was not made aware of the consequences of my checking that box etc.), I tried to see what I could do. Answer from my accountant: Two options. Either you can make the Town's administration change the check box by convincing them that you weren't aware of the consequences, or you have to take the necessary steps to get out of the Church..

Well, I tried the first option. And heard in so many words from the woman who registered me at the time (2 and a half years ago) that she had explained to me everything at thetime about the consequences of checking that little box. Guess what, she already had told the Finanzamt about the fact that she *always* explains to foreigners very exactly what that little box means. Huh? If that were the case, I don't see how much differently I could have understood the thing two years ago and today, and if I had been aware of the implications, I am not sure I would make all this fuss about it today. But you see, it's her word (German, civil servant) , against mine (French, freelancer, broken German). Tell you what, I've lost to start with.

So my only option was to get out of the church. This famous Church I never got in in the first place. Epic story if there ever was one.

In Hessen, you need to go to the Amtsgericht (municipal court) to "leave the Church" (or opt out, escape, resign, contract out...). When you get to the office "Kirchen Austritt", you need to provide an up to date registration form (the famous one I had checked wrongly), which means that basically, the one that you have checked in the first place is not valid anymore (go figure!). Once you have that, you are carefully read what you are doing 'in case you're not sure of what you are doing). You then have to pay 25,00 €, get a few signatures on the paper and you are finally out of the church, effective on that day.

So, 2 years and 6 months after not having entered the German Roman Catholic Church, I am finally out of it. And I must say that I am also angry at the German culture like I have never been before. I feel betrayed, used, disregarded in my culture and beliefs. I think it is the first time in my life that I am so bitter at one of those ever present administrative glitches, because the German State has coerced me into supporting a Church that I not only do not support, but have clearly not supported in more than 10 years.

One lesson learned, I will never again go to a German administration without a German speaker, or at least a dictionary, and I will make sure that I understand everything, or simply refuse to sign.

Another lesson learned, no matter what your feelings about how close to your culture another culture can be, make sure you are not missing a vital piece of information like " The Germans, when it comes to matters of religion, are 100 years behind the French".

A few remarks out of the blue:

It seems I am not the only one who finds those practices (mixing Church and State) unbelievable: other foreigners, believers or not believers, catholic or not have had the same reaction as mine
There are Germans that don't like the fact that the German State is so tied to the German Church (See the Save Yourselves The Church website)
If I had wanted to get married religiously before I actually "got out of the Church", the Church would have asked for a certificate of baptism from me not older than 6 months. Can someone explain to me how come it's enough to check a box in a State office to become a full-fledged (paying) member of the Church, but not enough to benefit from the Church's services? What is valid in one place should be valid everywhere. But no, when money is involved, the Church is not so demanding as when faith is involved.
In my first tax receipt, in 2005, since I had not earned any money and did not have to pay any taxes, the fact that I was "Kirchensteuerpflichtig" (ie. that I had to pay Church taxes) was not even mentionned on my tax return form.
Several conversations with Germans of different affiliations (believers, non-believers, politicians, non-politicians) have shown me that this tie between Church and State is much more than just a legal bound, it is a very strong social pressure. But I'll talk about this in another post, another day, when I am less angry.