I pride myself on my cultural sensitivity. I try really hard to avoid perpetuating stereotypes, I try to keep an open mind, to avoid judgements, blah, blah, blah. This is not because I am such an advanced human being who, by my own superiority, received this enlightenment. No, I have to credit this to two things: 1) my mom who, actually is a superior human being and never let a lick of discrimination pass between her lips, and 2) attending Bethany Christian High School and Goshen College where cultural sensitivity is all but BEAT into your system. I remember gettting worn out by it in school, resisting it, feeling like they were just being overly sensitive. And then, I don't know when exactly, it became a part of my living and breathing, it just clicked. I understood why it was so important. I credit them and thank them for that important influence in my life. I do remember one day making a decision that I would speak only in inclusive language and would always avoid and stand against discriminatory statements and jokes. It hasn't been easy but you can change your language with persistence and repetition. But by no means am I perfect at it. Not by a long shot. However, I figure trying is better than nothing.
We have some very close friends who, let's say, haven't quite had the background or revelations that I've had. How do you try to get someone to grasp quickly what took you a lifetime to come to terms with? Well you don't, and I have to reserve judgement about that as well. But they all know that they are not to make racist, sexist, or descriminatory comments or tell jokes of the same nature around me. Which doesn't really stop them...but they in no way question where I stand.
As an aside, my parents spend the winters now in Brownsville, Texas (on the border of Mexico) where my brother and his family live. So I was asking my mom if she's picking up any words or phrases, absorbing the culture if you will, while there. She told me that she had learned the word for "mountain" which is "montana." She then lamented that it doesn't work itself into conversation much.
So while hanging out with my friends the other night, I noticed that Terry was wearing a sweatshirt that said "Montana." Trying to be conversational I began telling him that I had just learned that "Montana" means "mountain." Except I botched it all up. I began explaining how my mom had gotten back from Brownsville and I asked her if she'd learned any Mexican words while there. IMMEDIATELY, our other friend Dan asked, "What did you say? Did you ask her if she'd learned any "Mexican" words? Because I believe the language they speak is Spanish."
There it was. I, the supposed great moral compass of the group, had committed a horrible cultural gaffe. I don't know what posessed me. I'm sure I was trying to combine the idea of picking up Mexican culture with learning the Spanish language and it just came out all wrong. Right? It had to be.
But, I'm sure that this group will not ever let me live this down. It will haunt me forever.
As another aside, Heather and I just finished our season of musicals the week before this conversation ocurred, seeing "Avenue Q." Which is hilarious and extremely adult. (i.e. If you would like to see explicit puppet sex, this is the show for you.) But it was chock full of scathing commentary on modern life. One song immediately came to mind after my scandalous exchange with friends. I would like to share it with you. Be warned, it's a little adult...and a little bit true.
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