Issue 7: Come Again? by Yale Accent Magazine

Dear Reader, When was the last time you were proven wrong? When was the last time someone told you something you did not comprehend, and you uttered the words: “Come again?” The idea for this semester’s edition began with a discussion among Accent team members about various stereotypes that exist on campus and around the world. Are Germans really as organized as some people think they are? Do History of Art majors really have it easy? The pages before you seek to explore the distance between the truth and the perceived truth, offering new perspectives while dispelling misconceptions. The articles in this edition will ask you to consider various stances on common issues. What do Americans get wrong (or right) about Chinese culture? Does it mean anything to tell someone they (do not) look Latin American? Do Japanese people avoid (or encourage) physical contact in social relations? “Come again?” is my final issue as Editor-in-Chief. A year and a half and three issues after assuming my role, I feel the publication is ready for a transition. Accent is still young and there is still much room to innovate, but I know that my successors will never lose sight of Accent’s initial goal of giving a voice to everyone, and I look forward to what the future has in store. Looking back on my past three semesters as Editor-in-Chief, I am incredibly proud to have had a role in the growth and success of Accent. This publication fills a unique space at Yale; we are the only organization on campus that provides students a means of sharing their thoughts, experiences and cultures with the rest of the community in their native or adopted tongues. Accent is committed to multilingualism and multiculturalism, and aims to promote mutual understanding through diversity of expression. None of our past successes—the publication, visits by foreign dignitaries, film screenings, poetry and photography exhibits, to count a few—would have been possible without the dedication of the administrators, editors, photographers and designers that make up the Accent Team. I would like to especially thank our Head Copy Editor Miranda Melcher, Publisher Isidora Stankovic, and Creative Director Vincent Tanutama, without whom Accent would not be the magazine or the community it is today. I would also like to thank you, reader, for your interest in and support of our publication. Enjoy!

Omegar Chavolla-Zacarias Editor-in-Chief

russian Поезд Москва-Мурманск Going North

Недопонимание: проблема или уникальность?

Крымский Вопрос

Misunderstanding: Hindrance or Uniqueness? Dissecting Crimea

japanese

「午前中」

15 16

“Mid-Morning in Japan”

異文化の身体的接触の勘違い Think before you hug: Why the Golden Rule fails across cultural lines

spanish Guía a las idiosincrasias lingüísticas de Auvillar A Traveler’s Guide to Language as used in the Town of Auvillar

Más allá de la semántica More Than Semantics

18 20 22 24

26 28 30

german ,,Echt?“ But Not Really, Right?

portuguese Lingua Afiada Sharp Tongue

italian Stereotipi Italiani A Few Italian Stereotypes Exposed

Incomprensioni senza confini The Greatest Misconception

korean

단면을 넘어서

On the Same Page

한 줄씩 새기며 Fine Lines

뭐가 대수야?

What’s the Big Deal?

french Vous êtes d’où? Where Are You From?

Les misérables marcheuses—Les travailleuses du sexe chinoises à Paris

Langue et Culture

39 40

Les Misérables Marcheuses— Chinese Sex Workers in Paris Language as Culture

hebrew ‫השם שלי‬

My Name

chinese 谈谈歧视

A closer look at discrimination

中美误解的来源

并非“误解”

babel: thai

Origins of Misunderstanding The Misunderstanding of “Misconception”

ตําถั่วอเมริกัน ถึงแม้ตัวจะอยู่ไกล แต่ใจไม่เคยห่าง

Thai Peanut Salad—Far from Home but Close to Heart

Поезд Москва-Мурманск by Patrick Johnson, TD ’15

Early into a semester abroad in Russia, Patrick and two other students traveled north to the city of Murmansk. Along the way, they had an interesting adventure with one of their fellow travelers. Тема недопонимания особенно актуальна во время путешествий за границей. Если даже в привычной среде небольшое недоразумение может повлечь за собой неприятности или оскорбить чьито чувства, то в чужой стране ставки еще более высокие: можно опоздать в аэропорт, заблудиться в метро, не найти адрес отеля. Всё, что было тщательно спланировано, может пойти не так и повлечь за собой дополнительные траты. Это особенно печально для студентов, чей бюджет, например, не позволит купить билет на следующий поезд, если на свой опоздал. Однако, преодолимые трудности и небольшие недоразумения, могут превратить обычную туристическую поездку в настоящее приключение! Я совершил свое самое необычное путешествие год назад. Я и трое других американских студентов решили съездить из Москвы в Мурманск. Я плохо помню, откуда впервые узнал о Мурманске: наверное, из какого-нибудь голливудского фильма о холодной войне. Так как мне хотелось побольше узнать о

Nowhere do misunderstandings become more urgent and confusing than when traveling abroad. At home, a simple misunderstanding on the street can result in confusion and perhaps a slight insult at worst. When traveling, the stakes are considerably higher. Not knowing when a flight leaves, or where the train is, or where you are staying for the night ultimately threatens the entire trip. Everything that was carefully planned out can suddenly go awry. Especially for students traveling on a budget, the prospect of a missed train, which ultimately would require purchasing another ticket with money that should have been budgeted for other things, is especially frustrating. However, if these slight hiccups are taken in stride and, hopefully, successfully overcome, the result can be a much more interesting story. The trip I took that resulted in the most misunderstandings was most definitely a trip from Moscow to Murmansk. I’m not sure how I first heard about Murmansk, but I would imagine it was in some sort of Cold War thriller. I’d heard that it used to be an old Soviet nuclear

sub base, and for a long time it had been even more off limits to foreigners than other parts of the Soviet Union and Russia. As the largest city north of the Arctic Circle, it held a certain improbability of existence. I, along with two other American students, had to see it for ourselves to make sure that it really existed. We were well prepared for our forty-hour journey from Moscow to Murmansk. Knowing that the dining car was relatively expensive and that we would have to eat something along the way, we packed a good amount of food and beverages. I had gone to the local supermarket to buy some ramen noodles and other travel-type food items. One of my fellow American travelers brought an entire chicken with him—apparently, his host mother had insisted that he bring it. All in all, we felt relatively prepared for our journey. That being said, the food we brought was nowhere near spread brought by Galina, a very nice Russian woman who was sitting in our compartment. She had no less than six homemade dishes in separate Tupperware containers. All this was laid out on a clean tablecloth and accompanied by a couple cartons of juice. It was as if she was expecting to feed no fewer than ten people on this train. As we got further and further into this journey, we could practically feel this woman’s concern for our nourishment. At first, she didn’t say much, but she carefully examined every one of our food items. Little by little, she began to inquire about our food. “Is that all you are eating?” “Are you sure you want to eat all those unnatural preservatives?” “Does that even taste good?” Eventually, Galina determined that we were in no way capable of feeding ourselves and would surely die of malnourishment if we didn’t take any of her food. She began to offer us some of her food. Despite Galina’s expert assessment, we were quite content with our ramen noodles and beef jerky. Having been brought up on the American ideas of self-reliance and independence, accepting any sort of assistance from a stranger was a foreign concept. We didn’t want to hinder this woman in any way. However, from Galina’s perspective, our refusal to try any of her dishes was likely regarded as a personal affront. We put up a good defense, but after six hours of increasingly hostile questioning from Galina, we relented and tried a small Russian pastry.

russian

городе, я прочитал, что он был базой атомных субмарин в Советском Союзе. Именно поэтому Мурманск долго был совершенно недоступен для зарубежных туристов. Этот город удивляет не столько своим военным прошлым, но и расположением на карте. Мурманск— крупнейший город за пределами Северного полярного круга, Мы прекрасно знали о том, что нас ждут не самые благоприятные климатические условия, но были полностью к ним готовы. Нам предстояла сорокачасовая поездка на поезде Москва-Мурманск. Зная о дороговизне вагонов-ресторанов в поездах, мы решили запастись своей едой и напитками. В местном магазине я купил все необходимое: лапшу быстрого приготовления, чипсы и минеральную воду. Семья, в гостях у которой оставался один из моих товарищей, настояла, чтобы он взял с собой целую курицу. Они нам объяснили, что это обязательный атрибут путешествий поездом. Разместившись в купе, мы поняли, что звания самых подготовленных путешественников нам не видать. Несмотря на все наши старания, количество наших запасов было невозможно сравнить с тем, что имелось у Галины—нашей соседки по купе. Едва поезд тронулся, она стала постепенно доставать провизию из своей сумки: среди прочего на раскладном столике оказалось не меньше шести контейнеров с домашней едой, свежие огурцы, вареные яйца и, конечно же, курица! Помимо еды на столе были упаковки сока и пластиковые бутылки с непонятным содержанием, которые впоследствии оказались компотом. Все выглядело так, словно эта добродушная на вид женщина собиралась накормить не меньше десяти пассажиров этого поезда. Уже через несколько часов после отправления нашей попутчицы стала заботиться о нашем питании. Сначала она ничего не говорила, но внимательно смотрела на все наши припасы. Потом она начала спрашивать нас о наших продуктах: «И это все, что вы едите?» «Вы уверены, что хотите есть все эти химикаты?» «Это хотя бы вкусно?». Очевидно, Галина решила, что мы не силах о себе позаботиться и наверняка скончаемся от голода в ближайшие часы, поэтому она начала предлагать нам свои яства. Несмотря на негативную оценку Галины, мы были довольны нашей лапшой со вкусом курицы и самой курицей. Для нас было бы странным принять угощение или помощь от малознакомого человека, потому что мы воспитаны в духе американских идеалов и должны быть самостоятельными и полагаться только на себя. Мы ни в коем случае не хотели обидеть эту женщину. Однако Галина, кажется, восприняла отказ от еды как личное оскорбление. Мы достаточно долго держали оборону, но после шести часов рассуждений о вкусной и здоровой еде мы сдались и попробовали немного выпечки.

Недопонимание: проблема или уникальность?

by Yulia Vozzhaeva SM ’16 and Olga Blyum In this article, Yulia and Olga discuss various types of misunderstandings including those related to manners, language and culinary culture.

“Как ты?” улыбнувшись, спросила меня незнакомка на улице на ходу, даже не остановившись. Ничего необычного для американца, но так неестественно для иностранца. Когда я только переехала из России на учебу в США, меня очень удивляло и зачастую обижало, что люди спрашивают как у тебя дела и проходят мимо, не дожидаясь ответа и не ожидая его. Это формальный тип приветствия, и эту формальность трудно понять иностранцу. Американцам может показаться, что в России люди не столь учтивы и приветливы, но это совсем не так: в России ты спрашиваешь, как у человека дела не из вежливости, а когда тебе важен человек, и тебя не безразличен его ответ. Манеры (обычаи, привычки), тем не менее, не являются единственным примером межкультурных заблуждений. Главным способом общения является язык, и именно в этой сфере происходит больше всего путаницы. Многие иностранцы, которые учат русский язык, думают, что загадочное русское словосочетание

“How are you?” a passerby asked without even stopping. This question is so natural for an American, yet so puzzling for a foreigner. When I came to the USA to study, I often found myself offended when people would ask me how I was doing without really wanting to hear the answer. While the meaningless “How are you doing?” introduces confusion to foreigners, Americans might misunderstand Russians as being unfriendly or inconsiderate of others because they almost never bother to say “How are you” or simply “hi” to people they don’t know. This assumption would be incorrect: the hollow “How are you doing?” is a question full of meaning for Russians, who would usually ask it only if they bother to hear the real answer. Manners, however, are not the only example of intercultural misunderstandings. Since the main means of communication between cultures is spoken language, the majority of clumsy misunderstandings occur exactly in this linguistic area. For example, many foreigners that are learning the Russian language get very puzzled when they encounter a Russian expres-

« yes no maybe » переводится как « I am sion which, literally translated, goes “yes, no, not sure, but probably no ». Но согласитесь, maybe” and means “I am not sure, but maybe приводит в недоумение. Путаница в языке no.” This, you might agree, would create some есть как и у англоговорящих с русским, misunderstanding. Russian speakers also get так и русскоговорящих с английским. confused with the English language. One of the Самым распространённым случаем most common mishaps is the mix-up of similarявляется неправильное произношение ly sounding words such as “hostility” and “hosили использование созвучного слова. К pitality,” for example. One time a girl wanted примеру, какая-нибудь девушка, после to thank her friends for a wonderful meal and прекрасного ужина у друзей, захотев said, “Thank you for your hostility.” поблагодарить и блеснуть знанием While linguistic faux pas could be more or языка, может сказать: “Thank you for your hostility”,чем вызовет удивление и less figured out with time, one might spend озадаченность друзей. an entire lifetime pondering the reasoning beЕсли со словами, значениями и hind certain national customs. For example, произношением можно some people in Russia have разобраться, то вот с a rather unusual tradition of традициями и привычками swimming in frozen ponds разных культур порой that they call morzhevanie— совсем ничего не Manners, however, are loosely translated as “walпонятно. Так, например, rusing” or “ice swimming.” в России зимой люди, not the only example of such extreme swimчтобы укрепить свою of intercultural misun- Fans ming call themselves “walrusздоровье, увлекаются derstandings. Since the es” because they, not unlike экстремальным з а к а л и в а н и е м , actual walruses, plunge into main means of comтак называемым the freezing water. Not all munication between «моржеванием». Как human “walruses” submerge известно, моржиcultures is spoken lanthemselves under the water животные живут в because it might be dangerguage, the majority of экстремально холодной Some just pour freezводе. Людей, которые clumsy misunderstand- ous. ing water over their bodies. зимой обливаются ings occur exactly in Dipping into the frozen rivледяной водой или ныряют er in the midst of a Russian в прорубь, называют this linguistic area. winter? Not every foreigner моржами. Так как нырять под лед довольно опасно, would be up for the chalбольшинство «моржей» lenge, and not every Russian просто обливаются ледяной водой на “walrus” can explain what in particular makes морозе. Особо увлеченные делают это “ice swimming” so captivating to them. ради удовольствия и здоровья практически Let’s not forget about the peculiarities of traкаждую неделю, а остальные—только на ditional food in different countries. Everyone Рождество, которое в России отмечается knows how hard it might be at times to get used седьмого января. Окунуться в ледяную to a foreign cuisine. One time, a Russian girl воду на морозе по собственному желанию? was cooking holodec, cold jellied-soup with Не каждый иностранец отважится meat—a special-occasion dish in Russian cuiповторить такое хотя бы раз, а объяснить sine. To prepare this jellied-soup, one uses the эту традицию порой не могут даже сами lower part of a pig’s leg along with a pig’s hoof. русские. Не будем забывать и о традиционной This is meat with a high concentration of sinew кухне разных стран, ведь порой так and pig’s skin – not the most mouth-watering тяжело привыкнуть к местным, а для ingredients. All these delicacies were discovтебя новым изыскам. Однажды, русская ered in the refrigerator by a foreign boyfriend девушка готовила типичное праздничное of this Russian girl. The poor man was quite блюдо—холодец—замороженный astonished. After a couple of moments spent мясной суп-желе. Для его приготовления staring at these body parts, he could only utter, используют свинную рульку с копытом, ’’Should we bury this?’’ мясо с жилами и шкуркой—не самые The differences in food preferences and cusаппетитные составляющие. Все части toms, albeit shocking, are still surmountable были в морозильнике, которую по

“счастливой” случайности открыл друг русской девушки. Сказать, что он был шокирован—ничего не сказать: он молчал несколько минут,пытаясь понять, что это и зачем, а потом наконец спросил: “Может мы это похороним?” А ведь это самое обычное блюдо на праздник. Разные предпочтения в еде или разные обычаи—не столь большая проблема, ведь можно со временем приспособиться. Немного изменив свои вкусы и взгляды, мы привыкаем к новому, но с некоторыми особенностями свыкнуться довольно трудно. Например, разное отношение к возрасту. Многие иностранные студенты, которые приезжают в Америку на работу или учебу, сталкиваются с проблемой разного восприятие возраста. С таким недопониманием столкнулась и я. Когда я только приехала в Америку мне было 18лет, я хотела работать и учиться, но для американцев я была ребенком. По меркам России с 14-16 лет ты уже не ребенок : ты можешь работать, ездить в другие города, жить отдельно. Конечно же, официально вся ответственность за тебя еще лежит на родителях, но существовать вполне независимо, не нарушая закон, ты можешь. Так сделала и я. Каково же было мое удивление, когда в Америке ко мне относились будто мне 12 лет и будто опыта у меня быть не может. Но с другой стороны, в 60-70 лет в России для многих жизнь подходит к логическому завершению, а в Америке у людей в данном возрасте открывается второе дыхание и они порой выглядят на 20 лет моложе. Люди переезжают в Америку из разных стран по разным причинам. Мы работаем или учимся вместе, и порой не всегда до конца понимаем друг друга. Никто в этом не виноват, и это лишь доказывает нашу уникальность и означает, что нам есть что рассказать и объяснить собеседнику или всему миру. Мы можем показать, что бывает по-другому, не так, как мы привыкли, не так, как жили всю жизнь; что порой это странно, пугающе, или смешно, но всё это- особенности нашей истории, культуры, и нас самих. Цените и уважайте эти прекрасные отличия, скорее всего они смогут вас чему-то научить или удивить.

obstacles as one can always adjust or get used to them with time. The harder disparity is the difference in age perception. Many foreign students who come to study in the USA encounter this form of misunderstanding. I was one of these students. When I came to the USA, I was 18 and wanted to work and study, but Americans viewed me as a helpless kid. In Russia, a 14-16 year old is no longer considered a child. On the contrary, one can work and even live separately from one’s parents. Despite the fact that by law a 14-year old in Russia is not yet criminally liable, he or she can feel quite independent. How surprised I was when I noticed that people in America treated me like a 12 year old or a helpless child. On the other hand, a 60-70 year old person in Russia might often feel that their life has come to its logical end, while in the USA, people of this age feel that they have only started their lives. Oftentimes 60-70 year old Americans physically look 20 years younger than their Russian peers. People come to the USA for different reasons and from various countries. We work and learn together, but sometimes we don’t quite understand one another. Nobody is to blame for these cultural misunderstandings. They highlight our uniqueness and mean that every one of us has something to learn and to tell one another or the entire world. Every one is one of a kind, which shows that there are different ways and perceptions around the world. All of this simply reflects peculiarities of histories, cultures, and individuals. Let’s embrace and respect these unique ways of living and thinking, because it is very likely that we will be able to learn form them.

Крымский Вопрос by Andrew Brod, BK ’17

The annexation of Crimea symbolized either an aggressive new form of foreign policy or the rectification of a historical injustice. In this article, the author examines the contrasting Western and Russian viewpoints. Крым. Спокойный уголок в Черном море, известный больше своими морскими курортами, чем геополитическими конфликтами—по крайней мере до того, как в начале 2014-ого года российские войска вошли в регион и быстро сумели вытеснить украинскую армию. На полуострове был организован референдум, по результатам которого он вошел в состав Российской Федерации. Западные комментаторы стали возмущаться: еще один Аншлюс, говорили они, налицо пример Российской агрессии. Но русским это возмущение было непонято: они считали, что исправили историческую несправедливость и вернули России то, чего капризы истории их лишили. История взаимоотношений России и Крыма началась в XVI-ом веке, когда Крымский каганат—татарское государство, хан которого являлся вассалом Османской империи—начало совершать набеги на территорию Великого княжества Московского. При поддержки Османской империи татары разрушали города, уводили христиан в рабство и в 1571-ом году сожгли Москву дотла. Война с Крымским каганатом оказала сильное влияние на русский

Crimea. A quiescent corner of the Black Sea, known better for its seaside resorts than for geopolitical strife—or at least, so it was until early 2014, when Russian forces appeared throughout the peninsula and managed in short order to expel the Ukrainian army, organize a referendum, and annex Crimea to the Motherland. Western commentators immediately cried foul: Another Anschluss, they proclaimed, an act of blatant Russian aggression. Even as the world erupted in condemnation, the Russians remained unfazed. Why such vitriol? Had they not, after all, corrected a historical injustice, restoring to Russia that which the vagaries of history had unfairly wrested from them? We can trace Russo-Crimean interactions back to the 16th century, when the Crimean Khanate—a Tatar state, in vassalage to the Ottoman Empire—began to launch raids against the Grand Duchy of Moscow. With Ottoman backing, Tatar raiders destroyed towns, enslaved local Christians, and managed in 1571 to burn down Moscow herself. Needless to say, the wars with Crimea exerted a powerful influence on the Russian character and mindset; The Russians considered their struggle a holy one

характер и умонастроение; русские вели освободительную войну с иностранными захватчиками, от которых Россия в конце концов сумела избавиться и стать независимой. С годами мощь Российской Империи росла, и Крым начал привлекать внимание монархов поскольку это был прямой выход к морю. Екатерина Великая осущестивила свою мечту и в 1774-ом году и присоединила территорию Крыма к России. Таким образом она не только получила доступ к Черному морю, но и положила конец почти тремстам годам национально-религиозного конфликта. Крым был частью России более ста пятидесяти лет. Этнические русские обосновались на полуострове, и русский язык и культура стали преобладающими. Постепенно вытеснение исконного населения крымских татар переросло в массовую депортацию при Сталине в 1944-ом году. Итак, Крым— неотъемлемая часть России. Каким же образом он оказался вдруг в составе Украины? В 1954-ом году Глава Правительства СССР Н. С. Хрущев решил передать полуостров под юрисдикцию Украинской ССР. Так как федеративное устройство Советского Союза носило декларативный характер, и Россия с Украиной были в то время частями одной и той же политической структуры—СССР, решению не придали большого значения, поскольку незыблемость и целостность СССР не подвергались сомнению. Таким образом, после распада СССР, Крым с его русскоязычным населением оказался в составе Украины. Давайте постараемся понять русскую точку зрения в Крымском конфликте. Большинство сегодняшних жителей Крыма —русскоязычное население, и мало кто из них владеет украинским языком. Полуостров находился под юрисдикцией России гораздо дольше, чем под юрисдикцией Украины; его принадлежность к Украине объясняется лишь административным причинам, простым росчерком пера. Более того, в отличие от Австрии, на которую претендовал Третий рейх, Крым никогда не был независимым государством в составе России, и уж тем более в составе Украины. Безусловно, все вышесказанное характеризует позицию России в отношение Крыма вне контекста ее внешней политики. Конечно, если мы примем во внимание войну в Грузии в 2008 году, поддержку восстания на Донбассе и аннексию Крыма, становится понятно, почему западные страны считают действия России агрессивной внешней политикой. Однако для обычного русского, что в самой России, что в Крыму, очевидно, что Крым – неотъемлемая часть России, безотносительно геополитической сути вопроса. Если мы хотим договориться c Россией в отношении конфликта на Украине, абсолютно необходимо понять эту точку зрения и, по крайней мере, отнестись к ней с уважением.

against foreign invaders—the very same peoples, in fact, from whom Russia had only recently achieved independence. Over time, Russian power grew, and Crimea began to feature in yet another key theme of Russian history: the quest for a warm-water port. This quest eventually concluded under Catherine the Great, who at once gained permanent access to the Black Sea and put an end to almost 300 years of national-religious warfare: she vassalized Crimea in 1774 and fully annexed the peninsula nine years later. Crimea became Russian and remained so for over 150 years. Ethnic Russians settled in the peninsula, displacing the native Tatar population. Eventually, Russian language and culture came to predominate, a process that culminated in Stalin’s 1944 expulsion of the remaining Crimean Tatars. The region had become an integral part of the Russian national patrimony— how, then, did it ultimately find itself attached to a Ukrainian state? In 1954, then-premier of the USSR, Nikita Khrushchev, transferred administration of the peninsula to the Ukrainian SSR. As both Ukraine and Russia were constituent parts of a greater political entity, this decision bore little significance at the time. After the fall of the USSR, however, Crimea and its ethnically Russian population remained under Ukrainian control. We are now in a better position to understand the Russian perspective regarding Crimea. The modern Crimeans are largely Russian-speakers, most of whom have little knowledge of Ukrainian. The peninsula was Russian far longer than it was Ukrainian; indeed, by a mere sweep of the pen did it ever change ownership in the first place, and only then as a result of purely administrative concerns. Furthermore, in contrast to Austria, to which the Third Reich laid claim, Crimea has no history as an independent Russian state, let alone a Ukrainian one. It goes without saying that the preceding analysis treats Russia’s involvement in Crimea entirely independently of her broader foreign policy. Indeed, taking into consideration the 2008 war with Georgia, the present uprising in Donbass, and the clandestine tactics employed in the seizure of Crimea, it becomes much easier to construct the opposing western narrative, wherein Russian actions in Crimea are indicative of more aggressive ambitions. But insofar as the average Russian—both in Russia and in Crimea—is concerned, Crimea is an integral part of Russia, irrespective of all other geopolitical issues. If we wish to find common ground with Russia regarding the present conflict in Ukraine, among other disputes, it is imperative that we come to understand, and to some extent respect, this point of view.

japanese

「午前中」 by Alexa Little, MC ’16

Alexa recounts a bewildering day from her high school study abroad experience in Odate, Japan. Rarely certain about what’s going on, she lets adventure catch her by surprise. 初めて数週間日本に留学した時、私はいつも何が起こっているか分かりませんでした。アメリカを出る前、私は自分の日本語が結構上手だと思っていました。「なかなか上手だから、留学は易しいでしょうね。」しかし、ホストファミリーに食料品店に連れて行ってもらった時、私はバナナ以外の食べ物の名前がなにも分かりませんでした。授業では頑張ったけれども、周りにもあまり期待されませんでした。英語の授業すら本当に難しかったです。英単語は知っていましたが、日本語で定義を書くのは無理でした。なかでももっとも混乱したのは、ある「午前中」のできごとでした。その日、相変わらず早く学校に着きました。ホストシスターと一緒に自転車で行って、別々に教室に向かいました。しかし、驚くことに教室には誰もいませんでした。混乱した十五歳の私は座って待つことにしました。そのようにして、三十分間座り続けました。遂に校長室に向かおうとしたところ、友達のあすかちゃんと広子ちゃんに会いました。「どうしてここにいるのよ？」と問われました。私は二人の呆れた表情をいつまでも忘れませんし、二人も私の混乱した表情をい

My first few weeks in Japan, I never knew what was going on. Before I left the States, I had been incredibly confident in my Japanese. “I’m basically fluent,” I had thought. “This won’t be hard.” Well, when my host family took me to the grocery store in sleepy, northern Odate, all I could remember was the word for ‘banana.’ For the most part, it wasn’t a problem. With three kids under age 12, my host mom was used to keeping a watchful eye. And at school, I just followed my tenth grade classmates. I tried my hardest in class, too, but nobody expected much. I even struggled in English class —memorizing the vocab words was easy, but defining them in Japanese definitely wasn’t! I don’t think anyone realized just how confused I was until one fateful morning: the gozen-chu. That day, I arrived early at school as usual. My host sister and I biked together, then parted ways toward our individual classrooms. To my surprise, mine was completely empty.

つまでも覚えているでしょう。「学校に来たつもり」と返答しました。それはきっと正しい返答ではありませんでした。あすかちゃんは今日学校が「別のところ」であるので、急がなければ遅れてしまうと言いました。一緒に校長室へ走りました。私はその夏人気があった「不思議の国のアリス」のように感じ始めました。校長室で、友達は私を連れて授業に行くように言われました。私は友達にどこに向かっているのかと問いました。二人は「午前中」と返答しました。意味が全然分からなかったので、だまって自転車に乗りました。私は普段全然自転車に乗らないけれども、あすかちゃんと広子ちゃんはそれを知らず、速く行きました。私は後ろについて頑張って漕いで、どこに行くのかしらと思いながら進みました。歩道に一度激突したけれども、いい旅でした。私がいた大舘市は小さくて、日本の東北地域の山と森に囲まれている市です。橋から、家や田や草色の山全部が見えそうでした。急に色々な制服を着ている学生と合流しました。皆は自転車を止めて、ブリックの建物に入っていました。標識が近くにあったけれども、もちろん読めませんでした。私たちの文化祭が来週だったから、他の学校の文化祭かな、と色々答えを考えました。ドアを開けると、シアターのような場所に入りました。劇を見にそこに来たのでした。まるでロックのコンサートのような感じでした。電気が消えると学生が歓声をあげ初めて、音楽と一緒に歌いました。彼女たちが言った「午前中」の意味は正午前という意味ではなく、午前中は校外学習、という意味だったのです。

Being 15 and perpetually confused, I decided I would just sit at my desk and wait, and so I did. For thirty minutes. I had just started to wander toward the school office when I ran into Asuka and Hiroko, two of my friends and the tenth grade class clowns. “What are you doing here?” they asked. I’ll always remember their shocked expressions, and I’m sure they’ll remember the look on my face! “Going… to school?” I said. This was clearly not the right answer. Asuka told me that school was in a “different place” today, and that we had better hurry or we’d be very late. I ran with them to the main office, feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland—Japan’s fashionable trend for that particular summer. Our teacher – who was equally surprised—instructed them to head to class, and to bring me with them. On the way out, I asked where we were going. “Gozen-chu,” they told me, which literally translates to ‘mid-morning.’ At that point I stopped asking questions and just got on my bike. Asuka and Hiroko, apparently ignorant of my complete lack of bicycling skill, took off. I struggled behind them, wondering where we were going and trying not to crash. (I collided with a sidewalk, once.) Odate is a tiny city surrounded with the mountainous forests of Japan’s Touhoku region. Zooming over the bridge, it felt like I could see for miles: the little houses interspersed with rice fields, and the deep green mountains rising behind it all. Suddenly, we were joined by what seemed like hundreds of students in various school uniforms, all parking bicycles or streaming into a brick building. There was a sign nearby, but of course I couldn’t read it. I wondered if we were visiting the open house of another school; ours was scheduled for that weekend. I resorted to guessing. “Is it a school?” No. “Oh, a museum!” No. “A gymnasium? With a swimming pool?” Definitely not. According to my friends, the “presentation” was to start in ten minutes. We walked through the doors and into a theater-like auditorium, complete with tiered balconies. We were here to see a play! The atmosphere was more like a rock concert—as soon as the lights dimmed, students began cheering, and many sang along enthusiastically to the music blasted from the stage. I finally guessed the real morning of gozen-chu: not ‘mid-morning’, but ‘mid-morning field trip’! The play was called Shougaku Ryokou, or Elementary School Trip, and even though it was entirely in Japanese, it was the funniest play I had seen in a long time. It chronicled the antics of six students sharing a room on their school trip to Okinawa, one of Japan’s tropical islands. Two girls were rabid pop-star fans with crazy outfits to match, one was a formidable baseball player, and all six had a crush on the same boy. I laughed along with my Japanese classmates as the characters paraded in wacky costumes, bludgeoned a Pikachu pillow, and looked for their crush—who ended up having a crush on the teacher! At the end of the day, only one puzzle remained: the focal point of the set, a fake green squash ten times normal size hanging precariously from the ceiling. Did it represent a native crop of Okinawa? Did I miss mention of it somewhere in the fast-paced dialogue? Sadly, my Japanese wasn’t quite good enough to ask, and now I’ll never know. Of all the experiences I had in Japan, the gozen-chu was one of my favorites. It taught me that a foreign exchange isn’t about speaking fluently, or even knowing what’s happening! Instead, study abroad is about experiencing a different culture, trying new things, and most of all having fun.

接異触文の化勘の違身い体的 by Joseph Lachman, BK ’15 Physical contact is treated differently in American and Japanese culture. Sometimes students learning a language fail to understand the culture that accompanies it. ライト・フェローシップのおかげで日本にいる間、さまざまな社会文化的な勘違いを拝見した。特に気になったのは、身体的接触に関する勘違いである。世界を簡単にまとめるのは難しいが、要するに人と人との触れ合い方に関して欧米と東亜は根本的に違う。アメリカでは、友達とハグをするのは全然おかしくもなければ珍しくもないが、日本では、相手が友人であってもハグはめったにしない。久しぶりに会う友達との再会の時でも、一般的な挨拶は御礼。もちろん最近の若い世代は少しずつ外人の習慣に慣れて来ているが、歴史的には日本人は人前でキスしたりハグしたりしない。言語的にも考えてみれば、英語の「ハグをする」と日本語の「抱く」という言葉は違う意味を持つ。「ハグ」という言葉は英語の「Hug」と大体同じだが、「抱く」という言葉は少なくとも二つの意味を持つ。一つは英語と同じだが、セックスという意味を仄めかす可能性もある。つまり、人と人との接触は特別な意味を持つ。夏の留学プログラムの間、学生たちがある大家さんのいくつかのシェアハウスに住んでいた。この大家さんは親切な人であったが、アメリカ人の習慣などには

During my time abroad in Japan thanks to the Light Fellowship, I witnessed a variety of sociocultural misunderstandings. However, what stood out to me in particular were misunderstandings related to physical contact. It can be difficult to make sweeping statements about the world, but it is fair to say that the West and East are fundamentally different in how they approach physical contact between people. In America, hugging between friends is considered neither strange nor uncommon. In Japan, however, hugs are quite rare, whether or not the other person is a close friend. Even if you are seeing a friend for the first time in a long while, the standard greeting is a bow. Of course, in recent times the younger generation is gradually becoming more accustomed to foreigners’ behavior, but historically speaking, Japanese people do not hug or kiss in public. Even thinking of this linguistically, the term “hagu wo suru” from English and the native Japanese word, “daku,” have different

meanings. The term “hagu” (literally coming from the English word) means roughly the same as its English counterpart, but the Japanese term, “daku” has at least two meanings. One is the same as the English. However, there is also the possibility of implying a sexual connotation. In other words, physical contact with others holds special meaning. As an American living in Japan, I’ve experienced this kind of gender-related misunderstanding firsthand. During the summer study abroad program, all the students lived in share houses owned by a certain landlady. This landlady was very kind, but she wasn’t used to Americans’ behavior. Every year on the last day of the program, after the closing ceremony and farewell party are over, the students gather up their belongings to leave the share houses. At that time they take a moment to thank the landlady. However, one student, attempting to express gratitude, misinterpreted the landlady’s body language and tried to give her a hug, which would not seem out of place in American society. Not surprisingly, that was not the landlady’s intent; she was completely taken by surprise, and the look on her face was one of pure horror. When the student realized this she tried to stop part-way, but it was too late. She couldn’t take it back. This resulted in the most awkward and one-sided hug I have ever witnessed, evident to all those present. As an American myself, I realize that this story is of course an extreme case, and that not all Americans behave this way. However, the story also reveals an important underlying fact. This student ignored the most important rule that the Light Fellowship specifically taught us: the “Platinum Rule.” What is the Platinum Rule? First, recall the “Golden Rule.” This is an ethical saying that advises us to treat others the way we would like to be treated. However, this rule is not enough because it is inherently self-centered. A much more useful way of thinking is to treat others the way they would like to be treated. This is the Platinum Rule. It asks you to realize that, even if you would like to be hugged, the other person may not feel the same way. In other words, we must respect each other’s cultures. If we spend all our time studying another country’s language, but simultaneously ignore its customs, it takes away all the meaning of studying abroad. Studying abroad in a foreign country means learning not only language, but also history and culture that have formed that language.

慣れていなかった。毎年留学プログラムの最後の日に、閉会式と送別会が終わったら学生たちは皆荷物を持ってシェアハウスを出る。その時大家さんにお礼を言う。しかしある学生が感謝の気持ちを表そうとして、それから大家さんのボディーランゲージを読み誤って、ハグをしようとしてしまった。もちろん大家さんはそのつもりではなかったから、ものすごく驚いて、そしてとても嫌な顔をした。それに気づいたその学生は途中でやめようとしたが、もう遅かった。取り返すことができなかった。そこにいた皆もすぐにその気まずい雰囲気を察した。この一例が極端な話だということ、そしてアメリカ人が皆こういう人ではないということを、もちろんこのアメリカ人の僕自身分かっているが、同時に大切な事実が見えてくる。彼はライト・フェローシップが教えてくれた一番大切なルールを忘れてしまった。それは「白金律」、あるいは「プラチナ・ルール」という。この白金律を理解するためには、まず「黄金律」を思い出してほしい。それは「他人にしてもらいたいと思うような行為をせよ」という倫理的言明である。しかしこの黄金律だけでは上のような状況は避けられなかったと思う。なぜかといえばこの言明は自己中心的な考え方を表すからである。特に留学の場合にもっと有用な考え方は、相手を、相手が扱われたがるように扱え、というプラチナ・ルールである。自分はハグされるが好きだといっても、相手はそう思わないかもしれない。つまり、我々は互いの文化などを尊敬し合わなければならない。ある国の言語ばかり勉強しながらその国の習慣を無視したら、留学は無意味かもしれない。

In a series of short vignettes, Edward explores the comic interactions that result from linguistic misunderstandings in the quaint little town of Auvillar.

Port /pohr/ sustantivo propio s . : Le Port [se parece a Porte /pohrt/ sustantivo s . : puerta]

Port /pohr/ proper noun s. : Le Port [not to be confused with Porte /pohrt/ noun s. : door]

por ejemplo: Estás en la orilla del Río Garonne terminando un ensayo. Tu clase empezará en diez minutos. Un joven regordete se acerca a ti y se presenta. Le preguntas si vive en Auvillar, y te señala con la mano la vecindad que se llama Le Port. “Le Port?” No te entiende. Lo repites. “Ah,” él contesta, “Onze!” Nunca se la pediste su dirección.

Boi • ssons /bweh’ sohng/ sustantivo pl . : bebidas [se parece a Poi • ssons /pweh’ sohng/ sustantivo pl .

: peces]

por ejemplo: Entras en la taberna Alta Villa para comprar un refresco, y le pides a la camarera une carte des boissons. Te da una mirada confusa. “Poissons?” Ahora tú también estás un tanto confundido. Intentas de nuevo. “Boissons?” Ella te replica, “Poissons? Sorry. Here we don’t, the fish.” No ha de ser tan difícil, te dices a ti mismo. Finges llevarte una taza a los labios. “Boissons!” ella articula. “Boissons. Boissons.” Al lado de la barra, un niño de nueve años se queda mirándote.

Oute (ortografía auvillaresa ) /oot/ sustantivo s . : agosto [se parece a Août (ortografía típica ) /oot/ sus-

tantivo s . : agosto] por ejemplo: Te encuentras en otro impasse lingüístico con el joven que antes conociste. No tienes la menor idea de qué habla. Sacando tu portátil le pides que escriba electrónicamente su pregunta. “15 oute?” Gracias a esta guía magnífica te das cuenta de que “oute,” tanto como “août,” significa agosto. Entonces entiendes que habrá una fiesta comunitaria el 15 de agosto, el día mismo de tu despedida.

Chí • cha • ro /chee’ cha row/ sustantivo s . : guisante [se parece a Chi • cha • rrón /chee’ cha rrohn’/ sus-

tantivo s . : frito de cerdo por ejemplo: Estás cenando con una amiga y la cantante francesa Marie Sigal. Marie te pregunta: “Do you speak French?” Fingiendo apretar un guijarro entre el índice y el pulgar, le respondes en inglés, “Just a pea.” Marie parece perpleja por tu respuesta. Te preguntas por qué diablos respondiste así. Tal vez porque “pea” suena un poco como la versión inglesa de “un petit peu.” Pero en realidad sabes bien que lo dijiste porque te encanta la palabra española “chicharito,” o sea, “a little pea.” Intentas explicárselo a las dos, pero tu amiga, segura que “chicharito” se refiere a otra cosa, te desafía: “It’s a type of sausage.”

by Edward Dong, JE ’17

spanish

Guía a las idiosincrasias lingüísticas de Auvillar

example: You’re finishing an essay down by the Garonne. Ten minutes before class, a chubby teenager ambles up to you and introduces himself. You ask him where he lives, and he waves his hand in the general direction of the Port. “Le Port?” you inquire. He doesn’t understand. You repeat yourself. “Ah,” he answers, “Onze!” You don’t remember asking for his house number.

Boi • ssons /bweh’ sohng/ noun pl. : drinks [not to be confused with Poi • ssons /pweh’

sohng/ noun pl. : fish]

example: You walk into Alta Villa for a drink. The woman at the counter looks up. You ask for une carte des boissons. She looks confused. “Poissons?” Now you’re a little confused, too. She leans forward. “Boissons?” you try again. She replies, “Poissons? Sorry. Here we don’t, the fish.” You tilt your hand as if bringing a cup to your mouth. “Oh, boissons!” she enunciates.

Oute (sp. auvillarese ) /oot/ noun s. : August [not to be confused with Août (sp . stan dard french )

/oot/ noun s. : August] example: You’ve reached another linguistic impasse with the chubby teenager you befriended earlier. This time, you have no idea what he’s trying to say. Pulling out your laptop, you ask him to type out his question. “15 oute?” you read. Thanks to this marvelous appendix, you understand that “oute” is Auvillarese for “août.”

Chí • cha • ro /chee’ cha row/ noun s . : pea [not to be confused with Chi • cha • rrón /

chee’ cha rrohn’/ noun s . : fried pork skin]

example: You and a friend are having dinner with the musician Marie Sigal. “Do you speak French?” she asks. Pretending to hold a pebble between your thumb and forefinger, you respond in English, “Just a pea.” Marie looks confused. You wonder what possessed you to answer “just a pea.” Maybe it’s because “pea” sounds like the natural English equivalent of “un petit peu.” But really it’s because your favorite word in Spanish is “chicharito,” or little pea. You attempt to explain yourself, but your friend challenges your translation. “It’s a type of sausage.”

Más allá de la semántica by Lucía Baca, PC ’17 In “Más allá de la semántica,” Lucía unpacks the differences between being white-skinned and being white, especially as it relates to people of Hispanic origin.

—Tú y yo - nosotros tenemos lo mejor de ambos mundos - somos hispanos pero también somos blancos—guiñó. Lo miré atónita, mis ojos tan abiertos que habrán parecido dos huevos fritos. Se me fueron las palabras, pero sabía exactamente lo que me quería decir. Habíamos estado entregando las solicitudes universitarias y todos comentaban que la acción afirmativa beneficiaría a los estudiantes afro-americanos e hispanos. Hacía referencia a esto tanto como a la vida que nos tocaría vivir durante y después de la facultad, al mundo que valoraría nuestra palidez más que nuestros orígenes, que nos discriminaría si tuviéramos la tez morena y curtida que el imaginario estadounidense le atribuye a la hispanidad. Eso fue hace tres años, pero si pienso en el presente, me encuentro en el comedor de Davenport, defendiéndome de un compañero que insiste—Eres blanca. Sí, es cierto que, aunque nací en Argentina, tengo más años en los Estados Unidos. Es cierto que, a partir del año pasado, soy ciudadana estadounidense. Es cierto que me siento profundamente agradecida por todas las oportunidades que este país —mi país adoptado—me ha ofrecido y que me sigue ofreciendo e increíblemente orgullosa de formar parte de él. Pero este compañero no estaba diciendo—Eres estadounidense. Estaba diciendo—Eres blanca. Me pregunté si habría dicho lo mismo si yo fuera morena o si supiera que mi abuelo peruano tiene raíces indígenas. Mi color de piel me divorcia de mi etnicidad y de mi identidad en los ojos de muchas personas. Ellos suelen olvidarse que puede existir una diferencia entre el tener piel blanca y el ser blanco. Cuando hablamos del “tener piel blanca,” nos referimos a un fenotipo, a una característica biológica que surge como resultado

“You and I—we have the best of both worlds because we’re Hispanic but we’re also white,” he winked, leaning onto my desk in the middle of Spanish class. I stared in disbelief, my eyes so wide open their whites probably looked like a set of fried eggs. But I knew exactly what my friend was saying. We were applying for colleges and everyone was talking about how affirmative action benefitted African-American and Hispanic applicants. But he was also thinking about life during and after college, the world in which our very pale skin, not our Hispanic origins, would be of higher value, would be our saving grace from discrimination. That was three years ago, but if I fast-forward to the present, I find myself arguing across the table in the Davenport dining hall as another friend insists, “You are white.” He wags his finger in my face, chastising me for denying my upbringing. Yes, I’m certainly part American: though I was born in Argentina, I have lived most of my life in the States. I was naturalized just last year. I am incredibly grateful for all of the opportunities this country—my adopted country—has given me and incredibly proud to be a part of it. But my friend wasn’t saying, “You are American.” He was saying, “You are white.” He was, as many do, conflating what it means to be a light-skinned American with what it means to be white and using the color of my skin to judge my experience and my privilege without considering my background. I wondered if he would have said the same thing had I been a darker-skinned Hispanic or if he knew that my grandfather was actually a Peruvian with indigenous roots. Somehow, my skin color divorces me from my ethnicity and my identity. People tend to forget that there can be a difference between be-

de los genes de nuestros padres. En cambio, cuando hablamos del “ser blanco,” estamos evocando todo un legado cultural y apelando a una construcción social, a un proyecto ideológico arraigado en el estatus social que se ha perpetuado por centenares de años. Se trata de una ideología excluyente que otorga beneficios políticos, económicos y sociales as sus miembros. Hay, inevitablemente, un nexo entre ambas categorías porque las personas de piel blanca, yo incluida, pueden llegar a beneficiar de este legado de vez en cuando. Por lo tanto, no son mutuamente excluyentes. De hecho, si siguiera en Argentina, me considerarían tanto una mujer de piel blanca como una mujer blanca. Sin embargo, en los Estados Unidos, tengo piel blanca, pero no soy inherentemente blanca porque la blancura estadounidense supone todo una constelación de orígenes, valores y experiencias anglosajonas, algunas que comparto y otras que no. Consecuentemente, pese la dificultad de separar ambas categorías, no se deben acoplar arbitrariamente. Pasar por alto las distinciones claves entre el tener piel blanca y el ser blanca sería el equivalente de anular mi hispanidad. Significaría olvidar que, hace uno poco más de diez años, dejé a mi país natal, a mi familia, a toda una vida para venir a los Estados Unidos y que no fue nada fácil. Significaría olvidar que me identifico muy intensamente no sólo con la cultura argentina sino también con la cultura latinoamericana y que mis raíces influencian de manera imprescindible e innegable tanto mis perspectivas como mis experiencias. Al fin y al cabo, soy estadounidense pero también soy una inmigrante hispana.—y ninguno es más importante que el otro.

ing white-skinned and being white. The former is a phenotype, a biological characteristic that results from the genetic material of our parents. The latter, however, is a legacy, a social construction built upon centuries and centuries of agentive engagement in the creation of an ideology tied to social status. It is an exclusionary ideology that affords political, economic, and social benefits to its membership. There is, inevitably, a nexus between these two categories because white-skinned people like myself can, at times, cash in on the cultural legacy of whiteness. Thus they are not always mutually exclusive. In fact, in Argentina, I would have been considered both inherently white-skinned and inherently white. I would have been a light-skinned upper middle class bilingual female who vacations in Miami, goes clubbing on weekends, and shops at Kosiuko. However, in the United States, I am inherently white-skinned, but I am not inherently white, because now white is conflated with a whole constellation of Anglo-Saxon origins, values, and experiences. Therefore, although difficult to disentangle, these two categories are by no means collapsible. Glossing over this fact is tantamount to denying my Hispanic identity. It means forgetting that, just a little over 10 years ago, I picked up and left my home country, left most of my family, left an entire life behind to come to the United States and that it wasn’t an easy thing to do. It means forgetting that I feel deeply connected not only to Argentine culture but also to Latin American culture as a whole and that this makes a tangible difference not only in the way I see the world but also in the way I live my life. At the end of the day, yes, I am an American, but I am also a Hispanic immigrant—and neither is more important than the other.

,,Echt?“ Omegar examines the misconception that ethnicity and nationality can be implicitly correlated, and asks what it means to “look” a certain way.

“Really?” exclaimed the cab driver upon hearing my response. “But, you don’t look Mexican…” The Berliner’s question had been, “Where are you from?” and his response was, unfortunately, one with which I am all too familiar. Yes, I have light skin. No, I do not have a Mexican accent. Yes, I am Mexican. During my ride back to my host family’s home in Berlin, the cab driver asked me once more if I was sure I was Mexican, following with the phrase: “I’ve just never seen a Mexican like you!” In his defense, he had never been to Mexico, and his perception of the

„Echt?“, fragte mich der Taxifahrer, nachdem er meine Antwort hörte. „Aber du siehst nicht wie ein Mexikaner aus...“ Die Frage des Berliners war, „Woher kommst du?“ und seine Reaktion war leider eine Reaktion, die ich allzu gut kannte. Ja, ich habe eine helle Hautfarbe. Nein, ich habe auch keinen mexikanischen Akzent. Ja, ich bin Mexikaner. Während der Fahrt zum Haus meiner Gastfamilie in Berlin hat mich der Taxifahrer noch einmal gefragt, ob ich sicher sei, dass ich Mexikaner bin. „Ich habe noch nie einen Mexikaner wie dich gesehen!“ Der Taxifahrer war nie

nach Mexiko gereist, und seine Vorstellung des Auslandes war auf Stereotypen über Mexikaner begründet, die in Medien und der Popkultur häufig zu finden sind. Aber Mexiko ist nicht nur die Heimat von Drogenkriegen und Korruption—genauso wie Kolumbien mehr als Kokainschmuggel und Rebellenbewegungen beheimatet, und wie auch Brasilien mehr als favelas oder carnaval ist. Leute fragen mich, „Du kommst aus Mexiko, aber bist nicht wirklich Mexikaner, oder?“ oder erklären mir, dass sie mich beim Spanischgespräch hören und als „Spanier

by Omegar Chavolla-Zacarias, BR ’16

—aus Spanien“ identifizieren—trotz meines nicht-spanischen Akzentes. Und all das nur, weil sie glauben, dass Lateinamerikaner zu sein mit einem spezifischen Aussehen verbunden ist. Weil meine helle Hautfarbe nicht zu diesem Stereotyp passt, fragen mich Leute, die die Region nicht gut kennen, ob ich der lateinamerikanischen Bevölkerung wirklich angehöre. In Wirklichkeit hat Lateinamerika 600 Million Einwohner, die wiederum in zwei Kontinenten wohnen. Man kann die Vielfalt kaum bestreiten in dieser Region, die während fünf Jahrhunderten Einwanderer aus der ganze Welt willkommen geheißen hat. In Europa hat jedes Land seinen eigenen Nationalmythos, der den Ursprung der Bevölkerung erklärt. Die Deutschen haben die „deutschen Länder“ vereint und haben Deutschland gegründet. Die Franzosen haben „französische Länder“ vereint und haben Frankreich gegründet. Bei Italien, Spanien, Griechenland und allen anderen Ländern, die eine eigene Geschichte geschaffen haben, ist es ähnlich. Aber es gibt einen Grund, weshalb wir diesen Teil der Geschichtsschreibung „Mythos“ nennen. Ein Deutscher könnte glauben, dass er Deutscher ist, aber jemand musste „Deutscher“ zunächst definieren, bevor das Wort allgemein benutzt werden konnte. Jemand musste die Idee von Deutschland schaffen, und alle Einwohner des Landes überzeugen, dass sie Deutsche seien. Fragen wie „Wer sind wir?“ sind einfacher zu beantworten in Gesellschaften, die weniger Zeit gebraucht haben, bei der Einwanderung, bei der Vielfalt, bei der Kolonisation. Oder: in Gesellschaften, die Einwanderung, Vielfalt und Kolonisation nie so stark erlebt haben. Diese Gesellschaften konnten Nationalität und Ethnie einfacher verbinden—eine Korrelation schaffen, die in den Amerikas nicht existieren könnte, weil deren Einwohner Wurzeln aus so vielen Teilen der Erde haben. Es gibt Peruaner, die asiatisch aussehen, aber dennoch Peruaner sind. Es gibt Mexikaner, die europäisch aussehen, aber trotzdem Mexikaner sind. Unsere Länder kämpften zweihundert Jahre mit diesen Fragen, und manchmal scheint es so, als habe der Rest der Welt dennoch die Antwort für uns entschieden. Daher kann ich es dem Taxifahrer nicht verübeln, dass er mich nicht als Mexikaner ansah; er hatte eben nie eine Möglichkeit, Mexiko zu besuchen und die Vielfalt des Landes zu erleben. Wir haben alle falsche Vorstellungen und oft wissen wir nicht, dass sie falsch sind. Ich hoffe jedoch, dass Personen, die das Glück haben, reisen zu können und ihre Vorstellungen zu erweitern, helfen können, den Unterschied zu erklären zwischen dem, was geglaubt wird, und dem, was tatsächlich gelebt wird.

german

country relied on the stereotypes of Mexicans that are so prominent in media and pop culture. But Mexico is not just drug wars and corruption—just like Colombia is more than cocaine smuggling and insurgent movements, and Brazil is more than favelas or carnaval. When people ask me, “You’re from Mexico, but you’re not really Mexican, right?” or, upon hearing my Spanish, explain to me that I “must be Spanish—from Spain,” despite the fact that my accent is distinctly non-Spanish, they buy into the idea that there is an expected physique associated with being Latin American. Because my lighter skin does not fit the Latin American stereotype, people unfamiliar with the region question my membership in that group, or outright deny it. The reality is that Latin America has about 600 million inhabitants living across two continents. It should be hard to deny the possibility of there being any inkling of diversity across a region that has received a constant influx of immigrants from all over the world for five hundred years. In Europe, each country has its national myth, its supposed ethnic origin clearly explicated. The Germans unified and established Germany, the French unified and established France. The same could be said for the Italians, the Spanish, the Greeks, and all who have managed to draw a common history based upon a common ancestry. But there is a reason we call them myths. A German may believe he is German, but someone had to define the demonym before its use could be widespread; someone had to establish the idea of Germany and convince all its inhabitants that they were German. Questions of “who are we?” have simpler answers in societies that have had less time to deal with immigration, with racial mixing, with colonization. Those societies have an easier time correlating nationality with ethnicity, a correlation that cannot exist in the countries of the Americas, countries whose inhabitants can trace their ancestry to any combination of continents. There are Peruvians who look Asian, and are Peruvian. There are Mexicans who look European, and are Mexican. Our countries have been struggling to answer the question of who we are for two hundred years, and sometimes it seems the outside world has decided for us, but I cannot fault the Berlin cab driver for never having had the opportunity to visit Mexico and to see the diversity that exists there. We all carry misconceptions, and we often do not even know they are false, but I hope those of us fortunate enough to travel and to question our beliefs help breach the gap between what is believed and what is actually experienced.

Lingua Afiada

by Helder Toste, BK ‘17 Helder describes his misadventures in Portuguese at a restaurant in Hawaii, where customers were shocked by a Portuguese word that closely resembles an English swear word.

Quando era menino havia dias, eu me lembro, em que eu corria no meu quintal, onde percebia um mundo curioso, cheio de tochas acesas, churrasco quentinho e música polinésia. Eu nunca me perguntava: Por que razão está isto a passar na minha casa? Nem perguntei o meu pai por que razão cantava todos os dias na rua ou tinha uma fascinação pelo mundo do oceano pacifico. Eu fui a Havaí pela primeira vez quando tinha dez anos. Tendo querido fazer uma viagem especial com o meu pai, eu estava pronto a explorar um novo mundo! Esta viajem já seria fantástica por ser a primeira vez em que eu e o meu pai viajamos longe para passar as férias. Logo que chegámos, reparámos que estas ilhas, sendo de muitas formas semelhantes às ilhas açorianas, tinham muito para oferecer e muito para ver. O meu pai, dedicado a achar as coisas mais curiosas, mandou-me entrar no carro. Conduzimos até Kailua, onde se encontra a famosa padaria portuguesa chamada Agnes. Entrámos a padaria e eu fiquei confuso pela seleção dos pastéis, pois eu vi doces

When I was young, there were days when I ran in my family’s garden, where I found an enchanting world full of lit torches, hot barbecue and Polynesian music. I never asked myself: Why is this happening at my house? Nor did I ask my father why he sang every day as he walked the street, or why he was fascinated by the world of the Pacific. I went to Hawaii for the first time when I was ten years old. Having always wanted to make a special journey with my father, I was ready to explore a new world. This trip was bound to be great—it was the first time my father and I would travel any great distance to spend our vacation. As soon as we arrived, we noticed that these islands, being in many ways similar to the Azores, had a lot to offer and much to see. My father, dedicated to finding the strangest things, told me to get in the car. We drove to Kailua, the location of a famous Portuguese bakery, Agnes. As we went into the shop, I became confused looking at all the pastries before me. I saw sweets identical to the filhós that I was used to eating at home—but here

they were malasadas. My father ordered a half dozen of these, and unconvinced they were any good, I refused to admit that filhós and malasadas were one and the same. Doubting these pastries, I realized this trip would be marked by confusion and that I was going to have trouble understanding this new environment. After the disaster with the “Portuguese” pastries, we found ourselves with an enormous linguistic problem when we went to Maui. Maui is an island known for its tranquility and calm, a pleasant place where parents bring their children. We ate fish at a restaurant in Lahina. Dying of hunger, I turned to my dad and said, “If I don’t eat right now, I’ll scream!” My father asked for our food one more time, as I lowered my head and started to cry. During all of this, many families surrounding us started to look at my father, who could not control me at the moment. The fish finally came to the table. I was ready to eat it, but couldn’t find a knife. As I looked for the missing knife, still tired and hungry, I lost my patience. I screamed in my creole, “DAD! Where is the stupid FACA?! I need a FACA!” While I explored the depths of desperation, a nearby family got up. The mother sent her kids outside and approached my father, saying, “What kind of father teaches their kids the f-word at such a young age? You should be disgraced!” She left. My father, pretending to be in shock, turned to me with big eyes. Instead of scolding me, he died laughing—it was as if he had lost all control. So be careful what you say, because a harmless word that stands for a utensil in your language might be interpreted as something far worse in someone else’s native tongue. The angry mother in the restaurant would surely be surprised if she knew that all I wanted was a means by which to eat my fish.

portuguese

idênticos às filhós que eu comia em casa, mas aqui eram conhecidos como malasadas. O meu pai pediu por uma meia dúzia destes pastéis e eu, não totalmente convencido de que elas eram bons, recusei-me a admitir que era possível para a mesma coisa ter um nome diferente do que eu lhe dei. Duvidoso de estes pastéis, eu percebi que esta viajem estaria composta por confusões e, inevitavelmente, que eu ia ter dificuldades em compreender este novo ambiente. Após o desastre com os pastéis “portugueses,” nos encontrámos com um problema linguístico enorme quando fomos a Maui, uma ilha conhecida pela sua tranquilidade e calma, por ser um lugar agradável, onde os pais traziam os filhos. Num dia muito típico, soalheiro, vestindo roupas de banho, comemos peixe num restaurante na cidade de Lahina. Morrendo de fome, eu olhei para o meu pai e, eu me lembro, disse-lhe: “se eu não comer agorinha eu vou gritar!” O meu pai pediu pela nossa comida mais uma vez enquanto baixando a cabeça, eu comecei a chorar. Durante tudo isto muitas famílias ao redor de nós começaram a olhar para o meu pai, que neste momento, não me conseguia controlar. O peixe finalmente chegou à mesa. Eu procurava a faca que não estava na mesa, cansado e ainda morrendo de fome. Gritei no meu crioulo, digamos: “DAD! Where is the stupid faca?! I need a FACA!” Enquanto eu sondava as profundezas da desesperação, a família ao nosso lado levantou-se. A mãe da família mandou os seus pequenos para fora e voltou ao meu pai, dizendo “What kind of father teaches their kids the f-word at such a young age? You should be disgraced!” Saiu para fora. O meu pai, fingindo estar aterrorizado, voltou a olhar-me com os seus grandes olhos. Em vez de me ralhar, matou-se de tanto rir—foi como se ele tivesse perdido o controlo. Pode-se dizer que este foi o dia em que o povo do Havaí soube que a palavra portuguesa para faca não é, de facto, um palavrão.

Stereotipi Italiani by Giorgio Caturegli, SM ’18 Giorgio tackles two widespread stereotypes about Italian culture: work ethic and food. He compares said issues to their American counterparts, suggesting that the two cultures have a lot to learn from each other. Nevertheless, Giorgio keeps Italy at heart.

In qualsiasi interazione tra persone di culture In any interaction between people of different diverse, è normale che alcuni concetti vengacultures, it is natural that a few ideas are simno semplificati per rendere l’idea all’interlocplified in the exchange to make the concepts utore che non ha vissuto le stesse esperienze. clear to the speaker who has not had the same Il problema è quando queste generalizzazioni experiences. The problem arises when these vengono amplificate fino al punto di non esgeneralizations are amplified to the point of sere più interamente precise. È cosi che possono longer being entirely correct. Mistaken conno svilupparsi convinzioni errate che possono victions can form in this way and complicate complicare la comunicommunication between different cazione tra culture dicultures, making discussion less Whether on the subject pleasant for both sides. In this brief verse e renderle meno piacevoli per entramarticle I will try to offer an alternaof food or vacations, bi le parti. In questo perspective on some examples Italians generally know tive breve articolo, quindi, of common stereotypes regarding how to have fun. This, cercherò di offrire una Italian culture, specifically conprospettiva alternativa however, does not mean cerning work and health. su alcuni stereotipi coItalians are known throughout that every day is a remuni riguardo la culthe world for the way they apprecienactment of La Dolce tura italiana, specificaate life. Whether on the subject of mente gli stereotipi sul Vita, in which responsi- food or vacations, Italians generally lavoro e sulla salute. know how to have fun. This, howbilities and duties are Gli italiani sono ever, does not mean that every day abandoned for a wild noti per tutto il mondo is a reenactment of La Dolce Vita, per il loro modo di appursuit of amusement. in which responsibilities and duties prezzare la vita. Che are abandoned for a wild pursuit of si tratti del cibo o delle amusement. Although perhaps not vacanze, in generale gli italiani si sanno diverrecognized for this characteristic, Italians are tire. Ma questo non vuol dire che ogni giorno historically hard workers going back to Roman sia una messa in scena di La Dolce Vita, dove times. Millions of Italians immigrated right responsabilità e impegni si abbandonano per here to the United States in the early 20th una ricerca sfrenata della gioia. Benché non Century, ready and willing to work hard to sia riconosciuta come una delle loro doti steimprove their lives and their families’ well-bereotipiche, gli italiani sono storicamente grandi ing, contributing for example to massive projlavoratori, iniziando fin dai tempi romani. Proects such as the construction of the Brooklyn prio negli Stati Unti si trasferirono milioni di Bridge. Furthermore, it is easy to forget Italy’s italiani da fine ‘800 sino agli anni ‘60, pronti current substantial production and exportation e disposti a lavorare sodo per migliorare le loro in fields such as architecture, agriculture, and condizioni e il benestare delle loro famiglie, aerospace engineering despite the fact that it contribuendo per esempio a grandi progetti is a relatively small country. Not to mention come la costruzione del ponte di Brooklyn. the many Italian immigrants spread throughInoltre, essendo un paese relativamente piccoout the world who make their presence known lo, è facile nel giorno d’oggi dimenticarsi della and confirm the utility and the hard work of sostanziale produzione e esportazione dell’ItaItalians despite a historically less prevalent em-

italian

lia in campi come architettura, agroalimentari, e ingegneria aerospaziale. Per non citare i molti immigrati italiani sparsi per il mondo che si fanno valere confermando la laboriosità della gente italiana. Un altro stereotipo possibile, forse meno diffuso, riguarda la salute degli italiani. Lo stereotipo è che gli italiani non facciano altro che mangiare pasta e pizza tutti i giorni, cibi ricchi di carboidrati che sembrano condurre a una salute peggiore. È vero che per gli italiani questi cibi sono deliziosi, oltre a essere storici, ma c’è da ricordarsi che la cultura del cibo italiana è molto diversa da quella di altri paesi, sicuramente da quella americana. Prima di tutto non c’è paragone tra una pasta mangiata in Italia e una americana, non solo a differenza di gusto, ma proprio a livello di ingredienti utilizzati, che in Italia sono spesso meno raffinati e più salubri. Poi c’è da dire che le porzioni italiane sono drasticamente ridotte confronto a quelle americane, e che pur non avendo il culto della palestra che esiste in America, gli italiani in generale fanno più esercizio quotidiano a causa delle distanze ravvicinate che permettono di camminare spesso. La cucina italiana è varia e bilanciata. Tutto ciò contribuisce a una salute maggiore dovuta ad uno stile di vita diverso, della quale rilevanza alcune persone forse non si rendono conto. Gli italiani, per esempio, hanno una aspettativa di vita superiore di tre anni a quella statunitense, e un tasso di obesità del dieci percento rispetto al trenta percento presente negli Stati Uniti. Questi sono solo due esempi di luoghi comuni detti degli italiani che possono risultare in opinioni inesatte, e anche se questa pratica non è una tragedia finché non diventa offensiva, costa poco rifletterci un attimo quando si sente uno stereotipo simile. E penso che sia uno stereotipo valido dire che qualunque italiano sarebbe felici di chiarire qualsiasi incertezza sulla sua cultura: basta soltanto chiedere.

phasis on work than that of, say, the US. Another stereotype, perhaps less widely held, concerns the health of Italians as perceived by foreigners. The classic school of thought is that Italians do nothing but eat pasta and pizza every day, carbohydrate-rich foods that would seem to lead to lower health. It is true that Italians love these delicious as well as traditional foods, but one must remember that the Italian culture of food is very different from that of other countries, particularly that of the United States. First of all, one simply cannot compare a plate of pasta eaten in Italy to one consumed in the United States, not only due to the difference in taste, but even at the level of the ingredients used—in Italy, they are often less processed and healthier. In addition, Italian portions are drastically smaller than American portions, and even though the gym cult of self-improvement may not exist in Italy as it does in America, Italians in general exercise more on a day-to-day basis as a result of shorter distances that allow frequent walking. Italian cuisine is also incredibly diverse, and typically exhibits a healthier balance of flavor and nutrition. All of these factors contribute to a health discrepancy due to significant differences in lifestyle, perhaps the magnitude of which many people do not fully grasp. For example, Italians have a life expectancy three years higher than that of Americans, and an obesity rate of ten percent as compared to the United States’ thirty percent. These are just two examples of common stereotypes held of Italians that can result in inexact opinions. While this practice may not be a tragedy, at least not until it becomes offensive, it does not take much to pay a little more attention to stereotypes. As far as Italians are concerned, I think a valid generalization would be to say that all of them would be delighted to clarify any uncertainty about Italian culture— all one has to do is ask.

Incomprensioni senza confini by Alessandro Luciano, PC ’18 Alessandro provokes us to reflect about misconceptions that are shared amongst cultures. He shifts our interpretative framework of what cultures have or should have in common, leading us towards an unexpected but intriguing con-

Quando si parla di luoghi comuni è inevitabile il soggettivismo culturale, la retorica del “questa è la mia cultura e tu non puoi capirla senza averla vissuta”, l’attacco agli stereotipi, etc. A questi impulsi negativi si abbinano spesso, negli ambienti più raffinati e globalizzati, tentativi di costruire un ponte tra le culture in questione, mostrare come possano essere compatibili, come possano comunicare. L’obiettivo di questi sforzi e di queste riflessioni è la “tolleranza”, che per i più fantasiosi diventa “pace e comprensione globale”. Io invece ho sempre avuto la tentazione, forse un po’ infantile, di cercare delle incomprensioni comuni a tutte le culture. Forse l’ho fatto perché sono convinto che il ponte più solido che ci possa essere tra culture non sia costituto da valori condivisi, ma da incomprensioni e limiti comuni. Mentre i valori si devono selezionare, costruire, diffondere (o imporre, e qui dipende dai punti di vista), le incomprensioni sono già lì nascoste per definizione; aspettano solo di essere scoperte. Per esempio, piuttosto che cercare di diffondere la democrazia tentando di dimostrare che in fondo tutte le culture la desiderano, potrebbe essere interessante capire quali incomprensioni comuni hanno tutte le culture rispetto alla politica in generale, sempre che ce ne siano. Sfatare l’idea, per esempio, che l’autorità vuole sempre il bene del popolo avrebbe potuto prevenire numerosi conflitti in decine di culture diverse. Ma c’è una incomprensione in particolare che mi affascina, forse perché è una delle incomprensioni più fondamentali, antiche e quindi condivise nel mondo. Quando gli imperatori Romani erano vittoriosi e di ritorno da una campagna militare, Roma gli accoglieva in Trionfo. Il Trionfo consisteva in un corteo formato dalle

Any given conversation about cultural misconceptions is often the stage of similar arguments: the rhetoric of “this is my culture and you can’t understand it without having lived it”, the attack on stereotypes, the obligatory reference to cultural subjectivism, etc. In the most sophisticated and progressive environments, these negative arguments are often matched by various attempts to build bridges between the cultures in question, showing how they can coexist and communicate. The goal of these efforts is “tolerance”, which for the most ambitious becomes “global peace and understanding.” However, I have always had the childish temptation to search for misunderstandings common to all cultures. Maybe it’s because I am convinced that the most solid bridge between cultures is built by shared misunderstandings and limits rather than common values. While cultural ideals must be selected, constructed, and distributed (or imposed, depending on one’s perspective and side of the ocean), the misunderstandings are already there, hidden by definition, waiting to be discovered. For example, rather than trying to spread democracy by attempting to show that every culture desires or deserves it, it might be interesting to discover the misunderstandings about politics common to all cultures; debunking the idea that those in power always strive for the good of the people could have prevented many conflicts in dozens of nations. Yet there is one misunderstanding in particular that fascinates me, perhaps because it is one of the most fundamental, ancient and thus shared misunderstandings. When the Roman emperors returned victorious from a military campaign, Rome welcomed them in “Triumph”. The “Triumph” consisted of a

truppe vittoriose con alla testa il triumphator, il trionfatore che, partendo da Campo Marzio, entrava in corteo, portando al seguito i nemici prigionieri e le spoglie di guerra, attraversava l’Arco di Trionfo e veniva accolto e venerato dalla popolazione in estasi. Sul carro dell’imperatore era legge che vi fosse un servo dei più umili che gli ricordasse la sua natura umana: lo faceva sussurrandoli all’orecchio “Memento mori”, cioè “Ricordati che devi morire”. La cultura italiana, forse per il suo generale cinismo, forse per il suo clericalismo o forse per la sua vecchiaia, ha chiaro più che altre culture il significato del memento mori. Ma l’ammonimento in sé, per quanto possa essere utile a smorzare l’orgoglio, non risolve l’incomprensione. L’incomprensione rimane perché il memento pone il problema ma non dà la soluzione: alcuni credono che la soluzione sia yolo , altri pensano che proprio in vista della morte non si debbano commettere imprudenze; alcuni decidono di dedicare la propria vita ad uno scopo preciso altri senza preoccuparsi troppo del denaro, e altri ancora—proprio in nome del memento mori—non vogliono “sprecare” l’unica opportunità di arricchirsi e godersela. Io vedo il memento come gli argini di un fiume. Quando la vita mi tenta con i suoi estremi (uno dei quali è l’assoluta prudenza e moderazione!), il memento mi spinge nell’altra direzione. Il problema è ricordarsi veramente della morte, non sentirla come un qualcosa di lontano e indistintamente pauroso, ma qui, alla porta, sempre presente. Per il filosofo tedesco Heidegger l’esistenza è autentica quando è cosciente della nostra finitudine: questo è il “vivere-per-la-morte”, che ha dunque una valenza altamente positiva, in quanto rende autentiche le scelte e, con esse, la vita.

procession formed by the victorious troops lead by the triumphator. Beginning in Campo Marzio, the parade marched through the Triumphal Arc carrying captives and spoils of war. The people were ecstatic and fervently lauded the returning troops as well as the triumphator. While the crowd cheered, a servant rode in the chariot of the emperor, as was required by law, so as to remind him of his human nature. In the ear of the emperor, the servant whispered: “Memento mori”, or “Remember that you must die.” Italian culture, by combining its general cynicism, clericalism and old age, understands better than other cultures the meaning of the memento mori. But the memento itself, though useful to dampen pride, does not resolve the misunderstanding. Some believe that the solution is to live dangerously and intensely, others think that because of the closeness of death one must never act incautiously; some decide to dedicate their lives to a purpose without worrying about money, and others—in the name of very same memento mori—do not want to waste their only opportunity to get rich and enjoy it. I see the memento as the banks of a river. When life tempts me with its extremes (one of which is excessive prudence and moderation!), the memento pushes me in the other direction. The real difficulty is to truly remind oneself of death, not just by thinking of it as something distant and scary, but as something here, at the door, always present. For the German philosopher Martin Heidegger existence is authentic only when it is conscious of its finitude: this is the “being-towards-death” that he advocates, the memento mori that helps us to live more authentically. Only death makes our choices authentic and with them, our lives.

단면을넘어서 by Kate Huh, JE ’16 A daughter tries desperately to explain the nuances of her essay to her 1 st-generation immigrant mother. As their understanding of each other develops, she learns more about her own misconceptions.

고등학생 시절, 전국 학생들을 대상으로 한 백일장에 기고를 한 적이 있다. 내 글이 다 른 작품들을 제치고 시내상, 주(洲)내상, 최 종적으론 전국상을 수상함을 지켜보며 나의 감탄과 공황, 모두 겉잡을 수 없이 커졌다. 모두의 축하 속에 온 가족이 시상식을 위해 플로리다로 모셔져 왔고, 나는 상패와 더불 어 수많은 악수와 축복, 그리고 조만간 찾아 올 대학 입시에 대한 격려를 받았다. 그 후 어느 날, 나는 지구 건너편 한국에서 누군가 가 내 글을 번역까지 해가며 인터넷에 유포 했음을 알게 됐다. 그 시절의 나는 모든 것을 멍하고 순종적 으로 했었기에, 당시엔 정말 행복했었으리 라 믿는다. 하지만 내 십대의 몽롱함 속에 또 렷이 남은 기억이 하나 있다면, 내 글이 주

As a high schooler I wrote an essay for a competition and, with a sense of mounting panic and wonder, watched it climb the tiers of evaluation—District, State, and finally National. Celebrations ensued; my family was flown to Florida, where I was given plaques and handshakes and well-wishings for my upcoming college admissions. One day, we learned that someone across the globe had taken the pains to translate the essay into Korean and circulate it online. I must of course have been happy, in the dazed, dutiful way I remember myself doing most things at that age; but my clearest memory by far is of the evening I learned that the essay was going on to State. I remember slotting the phone in its cradle and then slinking into my mother’s bedroom and, more desperately uncomfortable by the sec-

ond, assuring her that the housewife in the essay was categorically not-her—that she may have provided some inspiration, yes, but that she was never to misunderstand my intention. How did she react? It’s difficult for me to say, absorbed as I was in my own discomfort, my bare need for psychological relief. I remember her silence and her eyes, which as my little speech spluttered, remained fixed on me, perceptive and unreprieving. After my first year at Yale and a series of ungainly attempts to infiltrate its literary clubs and publications, I felt that finally I’d got my bearings—that I had to calm down, learn to assume maximal responsibility for my words. On occasion my thoughts drifted benignly to my high-school essay but were skewered by my embarrassment, which had organized itself into a stunning, savage point. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the essay, titled “A Mother’s Art,” but could recall its evils with clarity: the cues baldly taken from Amy Tan; the dialogue in its aggressive, unfaithful rendering of Korean-immigrant English; the depiction overall of, yes, my mother (who’d I been kidding?) as some mystic, idiotic servant of culture. Eventually this hyperbolic hatred, itself a sort of arrogance, was replaced by something more useful. As a person still working on her writing, however timidly and ineffectually, I might admire the essay’s commitment to forward motion at all costs—or acknowledge some truth, however clumsily executed, in its depiction of my mother. During some time off from school I had the opportunity to help my mother open a small restaurant near home. Occasionally she took the register and I watched as, confronted by customers’ well-meaning bits of filler (“How’s business been?”), she fought for sentences in English with which she could respond, subjecting them to silent, rapidfire pronunciations—so that by the time of their debut they’d grown heavy with overuse and anticipation. In the kitchen I recognized her ability to ignite in her employees an almost rabid want of her approval. I traveled with her to Korea and met her middle-school friends, victims still of her viperous sense of humor. The more I learned of my mother, the less I felt I knew; the scope of her failures and accomplishments pointed to something hard, cognizant, invulnerable. It feels strange—elementary—to bring up the utter dominance of linguistic and social contexts in our perceptions even of those closest to us. For years I viewed my essay as impossibly damaging; I struggled to explain this to my mother. As it turned out, I never had to.

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내상 후보로 지명되던 날 밤, 수화기를 내려놓 고 안방으로 살며시 들어가 어머니께 건넨 말 들이다. 매 순간 커져가던 초조함, 불안감과 함 께 나는 어머니에게 내 작품 속 주부는 절대로 당신이 아님을 수없이 강조하였다. 어머니에게 영감을 얻었을 지언정, 작품 속 여인을 묘사함 에 있어서의 내 의도를 절대 오해하시면 안된 다고 말씀드렸다. 어머니의 심정은 어땠을까? 이기적인 불안감 에 휩싸여 안도감만을 찾던 나는 그에 대한 정 답을 모른다. 여전히 고통스레 기억나는 것은 어머니의 침묵과, 의미없는 변명을 뱉어내던 나를 꿰뚫던 어머니의 무자비한 시선이었다. 예일에서의 첫 해와, 교내 문학, 출판 동아리 들의 문턱을 넘으려던 수많은 어색한 노력 끝 에, 나는 드디어 나의 위치를 깨달은 듯 했다. 더욱 차분해지고, 언행에 대한 책임을 전부 져 야함을 깨달은 나는, 때때로 고등학생 시절의 그 글에 대한 생각에 빠지긴 했지만, 그마저도 나의 수치심에 의해 왜곡되어 하나의 잔인한 요 점으로 다가오곤 했다. “한 어머니의 예술” 이라는 내 글을 나는 다시 읽기를 두려워 했지 만, 그것의 추악함은 분명히 기억했다: 노골적 인 에이미 탄의 모방, 과장되어 공격적이기까 지 했던 재미 한국인의 영어에 대한 묘사, 그리 고 신비하고 무지한, 자국 문화의 노예로 묘사 된 우리 어머니. 일종의 자만심이었던 이런 과도한 자괴감도 결국 조금 더 유용한 감정으로 바뀌었다. 아직 도 자신의 글쓰기에 전념하는 입장에서, 그 당 시 보여준 글의 전진에 대한 무조건적인 헌신은 존경할 만 하며, 나의 어설펐던 어머니의 초상 에 담긴 어느 정도의 사실 또한 인정할 만 하다. 휴학을 하는 동안 나는 어머니께서 집 근처에 작은 음식점을 개업하시는 걸 도와드렸다. 어 머니께서는 종종 계산대를 맡으셨고, 나는 손 님들의 선의가 담긴 인사를 힘겹게 받아치는 그녀를 지켜봤다. 올바른 단어를 선택하기 위 한 그녀의 고민 끝에는, 결국 조바심을 이기지 못한 조용하고 급한 발음, 듣기 버거운 소리만 이 나왔다. 부엌에서는 그녀에게 인정을 받고 자 하는, 거의 광적인 욕구를 직원들에게서 자 아내는 어머니의 능력을 보게 됐다. 어머니를 따라 한국으로 여행을 떠났을 때는, 그녀의 독 살스럽기 까지 한 날카로운 유머감각에 오래 시달렸던 어머니의 중학교 시절 친구들을 만났 다. 어머니에 대해 더 알게 될수록, 더욱 아는 것이 없다고 느꼈다. 그녀의 성공과 실패의 범 주는 견고하고, 깊은, 활력이 넘치는 무언가를 가리키는 듯 했다. 우리와 가장 가까운 사람조차 언어와 사회적 맥락과 기준을 잣대로 이해한다는 것이 참 이 상하고, 단면적이다. 수 년 동안 나는 내 에세이 가 겉잡을 수 없이 해롭다고 생각했다. 알고 보 니, 그럴 필요 조차 없었더라.

한 줄씩 새기며 by Jane Kim, SM ’18 In a town that dismisses her by her skin color, Jane struggles as a young girl to understand her brother’s passion for tattoos. She comes to realize that sometimes, a lack of words can speak volumes.

나는 나와 오빠가 많이 다르다고 생각했었 다. 우리는 흑인이 대다수였던 오하이오 주 의 동 클리블랜드에서 자랐다. 우리는 둘 다 살구색 피부와 치켜 올라간 눈꼬리를 가졌 지만, 공통점은 거기서 그쳤다. 나와는 달리 제임스는 항상 친구들에게 존경받는, 충동 적이고 자유로운 영혼이었다. 오빠는 남들 의 기대와 걱정 따위에 부담 받은 적이 없 었다. 학교에서 내가 구석진 식탁 아래 숨어 어머니의 김밥을 혼자 먹을때, 오빠는 저 멀 리 다른 식탁의 중앙에 앉고는 했다. 나는 나와 이렇게나 완벽하게 다른, 더 잘난 오빠 를 복도에서 마주칠때면 항상 내 친구들과 반 아이들에게 자랑하고 싶었다. 내가 항상 남들과 친해지는 걸 포기할 때, 오빠는 다 른 사람들과 너무도 쉽게 공통점을 찾고 친 해졌었다. 어느 날 저녁, 오빠가 방과 후 걸어나오 던 내 손을 잡고 들뜬 목소리로 자기가 문신 을 받는것을 보러 같이 가달라고 했다. 우리 는 함께 시내 슈퍼와 꽃집 사이에 자리잡은 “파인 라인스”에 들어갔고, 오빠는 철 의 자에 앉아 어떤 문신을 받을 거냐는 나의 물 음에 대해 넓은 미소로 답했다. 문신 바늘이 오빠의 여린 피부를 찌르자 오빠는 얼굴을 찡그렸다. 곧 그림자같은 선들이 모여 하나 의 그림으로 나타나기 시작했다: 오빠의 피 부를 날카로운 발톱으로 찢으며 튀어 나오 는 한마리의 흑표범이었다. 입을 크게 벌리 며 노란 송곳니를 드러낸 표범 뒤에는 선명 한 불꽃이 그려져 있었다. 흡사 지옥불을 탈

I used to think my older brother and I were different. We both grew up in a predominantly African-American neighborhood in East Cleveland, Ohio. We shared the same peachish skin and slanted eyes but James was impulsive and free spirited, well respected by his peers. He was never burdened by any expectations or worries. At school, while I’d be crouched underneath a lunch table, awkwardly and quietly nibbling on my mother’s homemade kimbab, my brother sat at the center of another. I wanted to show him off to friends, classmates, anyone when we found ourselves in the same hallways because he was so different, so other from me in the best possible way. I didn’t understand how he found common ground with everyone he came across; I just gave up trying. One day after school, James eagerly grasped my hand and asked if I wanted to come and see him get a tattoo. “Fine Lines” was slipped in between a deli market and a flower shop. James took a seat on the metal stool and only responded with a stretching grin when I asked him which tattoo he’d chosen. He winced in agony as the needle punctured his tender skin. Soon, shades and shadows started materializing into a coherent image: a Black Panther shredding James’s skin as it pounced forward with sharp claws, with jaws stretched dangerously wide, exposing fangs tinted yellow. Flames crept up beyond the layer of “lacerated’ skin.” It looked like the beast was trying to escape from the inferno brewing within. My brother wore his tattoo like a victor displaying a battle scar. His fragile skin eventually scabbed and peeled and healed. Yet I couldn’t help but ask why. Why would anyone willingly subject himself or herself

출해 나오는 모습이었다. 오빠는 그의 문신을 명예로운 전투의 상 흔마냥 자랑스러워했다. 그의 여린 피부엔 딱지가 앉고, 뜯기고, 새 살이 돋아났다. 내 겐 “왜?” 라는 질문만이 맴돌았다. 도대 체 왜 자신에게 그러한 고통을 입히지? 결 국 고통 끝에 남는건 빈 지갑과 고통에 찬 피부 아닌가? 오빠의 첫 문신은 마지막 문 신이 아니었다. 오빠는 곧 두번째, 세번째, 결국엔 열네번째 문신을 새겼다. 가을 중순, 부모님의 미용 용품 가게가 그 해 두번째로 강도를 당했다. 아버지가 혼 자 가게를 볼 때 두명의 도둑에게 총이 겨눠 진 채 강도를 당했던 것 처럼, 어머니도 혼 자 가게를 보다 강도를 당하셨다. 어머니에 게 남은 건 피묻은 옷, 왼쪽 눈썹 위 깊은 흉 터, 그리고 “칭크”라는 단어로 몰락해버 린 상처입은 가족 뿐이었다. 어머니의 세상 을 잃은 듯한 눈빛은 절대 잊을 수 없다. 어 머니는 곧 일자리로 복귀하셨지만, 모든 것 이 예전같지 않았다. 어머니는 항상 내 가슴 속 힘의 원천이었다. 하지만 그 날 이후, 어 머니의 혼란과 공허함에 빠진 표정을 잊을 수 없었다. 나의 안정감과 현실감을 잡아주 던 이불이 통째로 걷혀진 기분이었다. 나는 내 방으로 점점 더 숨어들었고, 오빠는 문신 가게를 더욱 자주 찾아갔다. 나는 더이상 초 대받지 못했다. 오빠가 문신을 통해 얻고자 했던 것은 경외심이 아니었다. 오빠가 진정 바라고 있 던 건 하나의 실재하는, 항상 충돌하고 섞이 지 못하던 두개의 문화 사이 균형을 잡아주 고 소속감을 부여해줄 수 있는, 눈에 보이는 무언가였을 것이다. 오빠의 언어 속 자연스 레 섞여있던 비속어와 유행어로는 얻지 못 하던 소속감 말이다. 우리의 피부색은 우리 를 영원한 이방인으로 만들었고, 오빠의 수 많은 문신은 고통스러웠겠지만, 오빠를 한 없이 편안하게 해주고 내면의 혼란을 달래 주던 일종의 중독적 의식이었다. 1세대 아 시아계 미국인으로써의 정체성을 어느정도 숨기고자 하는 오빠의 욕구 또한 알 수 있 었다. 어느 날 밤, “조이 럭 클럽”을 읽던 도 중, 나는 자기 방으로 오라는 오빠의 부름 을 받았다. 내가 오빠 방에 들어가 문을 닫 자, 오빠는 자리에서 일어나 소매를 걷어올 려 그 날 받은 문신을 내게 보여줬다. 오빠 의 흑표범 위에는 나의 이름과 생일이 자리 잡아 빛나고 있었다. 나는 살짝 놀랐지만, 내가 지을 수 있는 가장 침착한 표정을 짓 고 오빠에게 바보같은 짓을 했다고 소심하 게 말해줬다. 나는 내 방으로 돌아가서 읽던 책을 다시 집었다. 하지만, 숨길 수 없는 미 소만이 밤 내내 입가에 머물었다.

to all that pain? What was there to be gained besides an empty wallet and aching arms? James’s first tattoo wasn’t his last. It would be followed by a second, third, and finally a fourteenth. It was October when our family beauty supply shop was robbed for the second time in half a year. Mom had been by herself tending customers, just like dad had been the first time a pair of robbers walked into the store and demanded money at gunpoint. Mom was left with bloody clothes, a deep scar above her left brow, and a traumatized family reduced to the word “chinks.” The aimless expression she carried was haunting. She returned to work soon, but things weren’t the same. Mom had been and always was my symbol of strength. But since that mid-autumn day, I couldn’t un-see that awful look of confusion and emptiness. I felt my blanket of security, of grounded-ness in a shaky world pulled from underneath me. Left dazed and bare, I withdrew to the safety of my room. James started going to the tattoo parlor more often. I was no longer invited to follow. He only wore long-sleeve shirts in front of mom and dad to conceal the permanent sleeves lying beneath his clothes. It began to dawn on me that maybe what James wanted from his tattoos wasn’t admiration, but mere acceptance. Perhaps what he was really yearning for was a form of tangible identification that would balance two clashing cultures to establish a sense of belonging that he couldn’t acquire, no matter how many slang phrases were naturally embedded into his speech. Maybe he too believed that our skin was the mark that branded our parents as easy targets of discrimination and us as outsiders. James’s ritual of “getting tatted” was an agonizing but addictively soothing means to cope with his internal unrest. It signaled a desire for coverage from his identity as a first generation Asian American. And for that same reason, I threw away all the kimbab in my lunchbox, food that cost Mom precious hours of sleep to make, when I didn’t feel like eating under the lunch table anymore. I don’t know if James ever realized why my stomach grumbled so loudly, but I did know that it was us both who hungered for direction, both burdened by struggles beyond control. Yet in the midst of it all, it was comforting to realize that we could somehow salve our sense of soreness, to make the other feel less flinchingly alone. I thought that, for once, we might not be so different. One night, as I was reading “The Joy Luck Club,” James called me to come up to his room. When I closed the door behind me, he stood up and rolled up his sleeve to show me that latest tattoo he’d gotten. Positioned right above the Black Panther and glistening from a smooth layer of Aquaphor was my name and birthday inscribed in cursive. I was taken aback. But with as composed of an expression I could make, I told him that what he’d done was stupid. I headed back downstairs, and opened the book to where I’d left off, but not without an irrepressible smile that lingered for the rest of the night.

뭐가 대수야? By Katherine Oh, SM ’18 A young girl falls in love with Korean traditional dance, and hopes to spread its beauty across America; however, she is confronted by the dominating presence of the established Western Dance scene and the subsequent negligence of Eastern dance by many Americans. 2000년 10월, 제 18회 뉴욕 한국 축제에 서 나는 엄마의 손을 꼭 잡은 채 엄마의 뒤 를 작고 허약한 다리로 급하게 쫓아다녔 다. 주변을 황급히 살피던 내 시선은 저 앞 웅장한 무대 위 두 여성에게 집중되었다. 두 여성은 길고 호화스런 짙은 홍색의 비 단 드레스를 입고 부채를 돌리고 있었다. 입을 크게 벌린채, 나는 엄마의 손을 나의 네 살 짜리 손으로 더욱 세게 붙잡고 제발 전통 춤 수업을 받게 해달라고 애걸했다. 다음 주말, 나는 퀸즈, 플러싱에 자리잡은 작은 댄스 스튜디오에 발을 들였고, 새로 운 인생으로의 발걸음 또한 내딛었다. 이 예술에 있어서 평범하다는 수식어로 인정을 받는 데에도 얼마나 높은 정확성 과 절도가 필요한지 매 수업마다 깨달았 다. 발걸음 사이 간격을 조정하는 것 부터 팔뚝과 이두근 사이의 각도 조절까지, 나 는 매 주 15시간을 연습하며 모든 동작들 을 남들이 보기에 쉽고 자연스럽게 보이 도록 연마했다. 하나의 동작을 숙달하는 데의 어려움을 이기지 못해 많은 친구들 이 포기를 했지만, 나는 복잡함을 간단함 으로 보이도록 승화시키는 전통춤의 아름 다움에 매료되어 더욱 연습에 매진했다. 중학교, 고등학교로 올라갈 수록 친구들 은 점점 더 대중적이고 미국적인 춤의 장 르로 빠졌다. 하지만 나는 여전히 전통춤 은 발자국 사이 속도와 간격을 조정하여 특정 감정을 순식간에 나타내는 것만이 아니라, 그 이상의 아름다움이라는 것을 모두에게 알려주고 싶었다. 나는 한국인 이 아닌 모두, 그리고 한국계 미국인들에 게도 전통춤의 아름다움을 전파하고자 다 짐했다. 하지만 나는 이 꿈이 곧 너무도 비현실 적이고 순진하단 것을 깨달았다. 한국 본 토에서는 전통춤을 국보로 여기지만, 미

In October of 2000, at the 18th Annual New York Korean Festival, I trailed behind my mother, scrambling as fast as I could with my scrawny underdeveloped legs, holding onto my mother’s hand for dear life. My wandering eyes landed upon a grandiose stage where two young women in opulent, full-length, red silk dresses were twirling their paper fans. Mouth agape, I squeezed my mom’s hand as tightly as a four-year-old possibly could, and begged to take dance lessons. The following weekend, I entered not only a small dance studio in Flushing, Queens, but also an entirely new stage in my life. After each lesson, I was amazed by how much precision was required to be considered even mediocre when performing this art. From perfecting the width of one’s footsteps to hitting the same angle between forearm and bicep, I practiced for fifteen hours a week to make these complicated moves appear simple and natural. Due to the sheer difficulty, many of my classmates dropped out, but I was enamored by the challenge of making the difficult look beautiful. Our ranks continued to deteriorate throughout middle school as my peers were lured away to mainstream dance genres. Still, I maintained that Korean dance was more than just alternating the pace of my footsteps to express a specific emotion in one split second. I wished to make more people understand the beauty of Korean dance, and I vowed to become a cultural ambassador both to non-Koreans and to Korean-Americans unaware of this particular facet of our shared heritage. However, I soon realized that this goal was much more naïve and unrealistic than I had expected. Traditional dance may be a national treasure in Korea1, but in America, it is virtually non-existent. To this day, many of my

국에서는 아직까지도 한국 전통춤은 사실상 자리를 잡지 못했다. 나를 몇 년째 알아온 내 친구들도 여전히 내게 한국의 전통춤이 뭔지, 뭐가 대단한지 물어본다. 나는 전통춤이라는 천 년이 넘도록 계승되어온 예 술과 혼을 말로 설명할 수 없어, 춤으로 보여주겠다고 대답하곤 한다 하지만 내게 기회조차 주어지지 않으면, 어떻게 친구들에게 춤을 보 여줄 수 있을까? 지난 15년간 전통춤을 배워오는 동안, 다른 춤, 공연 팀이 받아오는 기본적 권리도 못 받아온게 우리의 공연단이다. 우리 스 승님께서 영어를 잘 못 못하셔서 우리가 보여줄 수 있는 예술을 말로는 완벽히 설명하지 못하셨고, 감독들과 에이전트들은 자주 그 점을 악용 했다. 서양의 춤을 추는 다른 팀들이 더욱 큰 공연장, 대대적 홍보, 그 리고 무대 요원들로부터 좋은 대접등을 받을 때, 우리같은 전통 공연 팀들을 모든 면에서 부족한 대우를 받았고, 에이전트들은 항상 계약에 명시됐을 뿐이라는 말만 남기고 떠나버렸다. 이 모든 부당함은 우리의 예공연이 예술적, 그리고 상업적으로 가치가 없다는 감독들의 판단에 서 나오는 것이었다. 우리의 춤을 이해하려는 노력을 하지도 않은 채로 과연 우리의 가치를 제대로 판단할 수 있을까? 나의 스승님들께선 이 러한 차별을 받아들이셨지만, 나는 미국 시민으로써 다른 미국인 댄서 들에 비해 낮은 취급을 받는 것을 참을 수 없다. 우리의 예술이 한국에 서 왔다는 것만으로 이해를 거부하는 그들의 태도를 받아들일 수 없다.

peers ask me what Korean dance is— “what’s the big deal.” Since it is too difficult to describe an entire cultural art form developed over millennia, I often reply that I will perform a piece one day. But how can I perform for my peers if I am not given the opportunity to? For the past fifteen years, it has been commonplace for Korean dancers to be denied certain basic privileges that other dancers receive. More often than not, show directors, venue holders, and other agents have taken advantage of my dance teachers’ lack of English proficiency and inability to explicate the true value of our art. While other dancers (usually in Western dance) would get larger venues, more advertising, and better treatment from the crew, we would receive the contrary—fewer resources, less publicity, less consideration—only to have agents absolve themselves of all responsibility for the inequality we stood to face. All this was based on the grounds that the directors did not deem our art valuable or profitable enough. Though, how could they deem it valuable when none of them bothered to understand it, to look more deeply into our traditions? My teachers eventually accepted this as their fate, but as a fellow American, a dancer that straddles this cultural divide, I refuse to be treated as an outsider in my own home, to have my passions ignored. America itself is mosaic of unique cultural practices from all over the world; even though our art is Korean, it is not less worthy of respect, less worthy of understanding. It deserves better.

The term “traditional dance” refers to the genre itself, as many different forms and specific pieces have been deemed national treasures. I specialize in the Jindo drum dance, but there are countless other drum dances, fan dances, and other cultural dances that we must master in order to be considered proficient in Korean traditional dance.

Vous êtes d’où? By Dasia Moore, PC ’18 By recounting the story of a trip, Dasia explores how questions of origins relate to perceptions of national identity in a globalized world driven by migrations.

Eté 2013. Le voyage de mes rêves. Je cherche la vie en rose et j’espère la trouver en venant en France. Dès le moment où mon avion arrive à l’aéroport Charles de Gaulle, je me sens submergée d’excitation à l’idée de toutes les possibilités qui m’attendent. Bien sûr, je ne suis pas sans inquiétudes. Que ferais-je si j’oubliais comment parler en français ? Peut-être que ma famille d’accueil me détesterait ! Tout le monde saurait que je ne suis pas française… Oui, je suis assez soucieuse. Mais une semaine plus tard, j’ai déjà oublié la plupart de mes peurs. Je me familiarise de plus en plus avec les rues de Nîmes, je communique chaque jour avec les habitants en français sans grande difficulté, je suis fière de moi. Enfin, je me crois bien préparée. Je commence à adorer Nîmes, une ville dans laquelle on entend de l’italien, de l’arabe, et de l’espagnol. Le mélange de cultures me plaît. Avec mes compagnons de voyage, je passe un soir à une manade près d’Aimargues. C’est la fête du quatorze juillet. Les gardiens camarguais jouent de guitare et nous chantent des sérénades espagnoles. A la fin de la soirée, le ciel brille, illuminé par les feux d’artifice—bleu, blanc, et rouge. A ce moment précis, je sais que c’est un des moments les plus incroyables de ma vie. Un jour, je suis prise par surprise quand quelqu’un me pose

Summer 2013. The trip of my dreams. I am seeking la vie en rose, and I believe that I can find it in France. The moment my plane arrives at Charles de Gaulle airport, I am filled with excitement. The possibilities waiting here for me seem endless. Of course, I have my worries, too. What will I do if I forget how to speak French? My host family might hate me! I won’t fit in; it will be so obvious that I’m American… Yes, it is fair to say that I am a little anxious. But a week later, I have already forgotten most of my fears. I am becoming more familiar with the cobbled streets of Nimes, and each day, I manage to communicate in French without any serious misunderstandings. I feel proud of myself. I believe, at last, that I am ready for this. I also start to love Nimes, this city where I hear Italian, Arabic, and Spanish mingling. The array of cultures pleases and fascinates me. With my travel group, I spend an evening on a ranch near the tiny southern village of Aimargues. We are celebrating Bastille Day, and our hosts, ranchers called gardiens, start playing guitar and serenading us in Spanish. At the end of the night the sky glitters, illuminated by fireworks—blue, white, and red. In this moment, I know that this night will be one of the most incredible memories of my life. I know that I have found it, la vie en rose. So I am taken by sur-

prise one day when someone asks me a seemingly simple question to which I cannot respond: “Where are you from?” “The United States,” I reply, but I sense that he wants to hear something else. “Yes, of course you’re American, but…” I try again. “Um… I’m from North Carolina,” I say hopefully, hesitantly, and with shaken confidence. “Yes, but before that?” Silence. He makes another attempt, “Maybe Senegal? Ivory Coast?” Suddenly, I understand. He is not asking for my American address, last name, parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents. He is not asking for the words written on my blue passport. He wants to know the identity written on my brown skin. “I don’t know,” I say with a forced nonchalance. “I’m American. That’s all.” That conversation repeats itself throughout the rest of my stay in France. Each time I face the question, I feel frustrated all over again. Even now, I have no way of answering. I do not know my family’s distant origins. I do not know a single relative born outside of the United States since the 18th century. Suddenly faced with questions regarding my origin, I feel oddly ashamed. In the middle of my beloved, multicultural Nimes, I feel rootless. And slowly, I understand that in the eyes of some, I can never be truly American. Of course, this is not a concept unique to France. It is perhaps a global misconception that physical and cultural traits—skin color, religion, language—determine nationality. Even in countries such as the United States, whose entire populations are comprised of immigrants, national identity is reduced to a question of blood. This idea is wrong. Blond hair and blue eyes are not American, and someone can be French without being a descendant of an ancient Galois bloodline. Identity comes from the heart and spirit. Sharing dreams, laughing with neighbors, and searching for the beauty of life—those are the things that make all of us compatriots.

french

une question pourtant simple dont je n’ai pas la réponse : « Vous êtes d’où ? - Les Etats-Unis », réponds-je, mais je me rends compte qu’il cherche une autre réponse. - Oui, bien sûr, vous êtes américaine, mais… » Je tente à nouveau : « Euh, je viens de Caroline du Nord », dis-je, cette fois moins confiante qu’avant. « Oui, mais avant ça ? » Silence. Il reprend : « Peut-être le Sénégal, la Côte d’Ivoire ? » Soudain, je comprends. La question ne porte pas sur mon adresse, ni mon nom de famille, ni mes parents, grands-parents et ancêtres américains. Il ne m’a pas demandé les mots écrits sur mon passeport bleu. Il veut savoir l’identité inscrite dans ma peau brune. « Je ne sais pas », dis-je avec une nonchalance feinte. « Je suis américaine, c’est tout. » J’entretiens des conversations semblables pendant le reste de mon séjour en France. Chaque fois, je me sens davantage frustrée. Même aujourd’hui, je ne sais toujours rien de mes origines culturelles. Je ne connais personne dans ma famille qui soit né dans un pays étranger depuis le 18ème siècle. Face aux questions sur mes origines, j’ai honte. En observant les Nîmois multiculturels, je me sens sans racines. Je me rends compte qu’aux yeux de certains, il est impossible pour moi d’être une vraie américaine. Bien sûr, ce n’est pas un concept uniquement français. C’est une fausse idée couramment répandue que les traits physiques et culturels—la couleur de la peau, la religion, la langue—déterminent la nationalité. Même dans des pays dont la population est entièrement immigrée, comme les Etats-Unis, la nationalité est sans cesse ramenée à une question de sang. On a tort. Des cheveux blonds et des yeux bleus ne sont pas des traits américains ; on peut être français sans pour autant avoir du sang gaulois. L’identité vient du cœur, de l’esprit. En partageant des rêves, en riant avec des voisins, en cherchant les petites beautés de la vie, on devient compatriotes.

Les misérables marcheuses— Les travailleuses du sexe chinoises à Paris By Yupei Guo, BR ’17 The tragic death of a Chinese sex worker in Paris brought worldwide attention to the marginalized “marcheuses” who suffer from misconceptions from both their French neighbors and their Chinese compatriots.

En novembre 2014, le meurtre brutal de Hu Yuan’e, une femme chinoise de 56 ans qui vivait à Belleville, l’un des quartiers les plus multiculturels de Paris, a attiré l’attention des médias du monde entier. Cette tragédie a été sensationnelle, notamment à cause de sa profession—elle était immigrée clandestine qui se prostituait. Le Maire de Paris a appelé les prostituées chinoises « Marcheuses », se référant à leur habitude de marcher rapidement pour éviter l’attention de la police et des passants. Hu résidait à Paris ces huit derniers mois et avait demandé l’asile politique ; la demande d’asile politique est une stratégie utilisée par de nombreuses femmes chinoises pour atteindre la citoyenneté française. N’ayant ni argent ni emploi, et ayant une fille adolescente à élever, elle ne pouvait que travailler dans l’industrie

In November 2014, the brutal murder of Hu Yuan’e, a 56-year-old Chinese woman living in Belleville, one of the most racially and culturally diverse quarters of Paris, drew worldwide media attention. The news was sensational partly due to Hu’s occupation—she was an illegal immigrant, belonging to the silent group of Chinese sex workers whom the Mayor of Paris dubbed “Marcheuses,” a term that refers to their habit of constantly walking briskly to minimize attention from police and other passersby. Hu had been in Paris for just eight months and had applied for political asylum, a strategy employed by many Chinese women to gain French citizenship. Penniless and unemployed with a teenage daughter to support, she had no other choice but to turn to prostitution to

survive. The 26-year-old man who brutally stabbed her to death in her tiny, dark, acrid apartment had been her client. There had been a dispute over the sum that should be paid. Her death drew unprecedented social attention to the “Marcheuses” or “Lotus Women” of Belleville—the middle-aged Chinese sex workers who live on the margins of society and suffer constantly from misconceptions, stigmatization, and harassment from both the French police and Chinese immigrants. They are particularly vulnerable because their lack of French language skills, connections, and legal status prevent them from seeking legal rights to protect themselves. Fearing attention from the police, they dressed as discreetly as possible and often walked briskly through the alleys of Belleville to seek clients, hence the

du sexe pour subsister. Le jeune homme de 26 ans qui l’a cruellement poignardée jusqu’à sa mort dans son petit, sombre et âcre appartement était son client. Il y aurait eu un conflit au sujet de la somme qui aurait dû être payé. Sa mort a attiré une attention sans précédent de la société sur les « Marcheuses », ou « Femmes du Lotus » de Belleville—les travailleuses du sexe chinoises d’une quarantaine ou cinquantaine d’années qui vivent en marge de la société et souffrent constamment de malentendus, stigmatisation et harcèlements de la police française et des immigrés chinois. Elles sont extrêmement vulnérables, car leur manque de connaissance de la langue française, de relations personnelles et d’autorisation légale les empêche de demander les droits juridiques pour se protéger. Craignant l’attention de la police, elles s’habillent aussi prudemment que possible et marchent brusquement à travers les ruelles de Belleville en cherchant les clients, d’où le surnom « marcheuses ». Selon l’ONG « Lotus Bus », qui plaide les droits des travailleurs pour les Femmes de Lotus, il y a environ 1300 travailleuses du sexe chinoises à Paris. Contrairement à ce que la plupart des gens croient, presque toutes les Femmes de Lotus ont eu un emploi stable avant de plonger dans les courants sombres de Belleville ; beaucoup d’entre elles sont éduquées. Cependant, la réforme économique chinoise en 2001 les a privé de leur emploi. La plupart d’entre elles venaient de la Chine du Nord et ont pris des risques énormes en cherchant du travail en France, pour échapper soit à l’abus de leur mari, soit aux lugubres perspectives économiques—ou bien aux deux. Les Femmes de Lotus commencent comme bonne, cuisinière ou concierge. Toutefois, il leur fut impossible de garder leur emploi, car la concurrence est intense et leur manque de statut de résidence légale en France les a transformées en boucs émissaires de la discrimination et de l’abus. Les malentendus au sujet des Femmes de Lotus continuent à se répandre parmi les Français et les Chinois même après la mort de Hu. Selon le journal The Daily Beast, la police française continue à examiner les sacs des femmes d’âge moyen chinoises à Belleville et tient à les condamner à une amende si des préservatifs se trouvent dans ces sacs. Une Chinoise qui travaille comme propriétaire d’un restaurant en Bourgogne a dit à la Ra-

dio Chine Internationale que la présence des name “Marcheuses.” travailleuses du sexe chinoises l’a rendue « According to the NGO “Lotus Bus,” which mal à l’aise, honteuse et humiliée ». Certains advocates for the Lotus Women’s rights, there Parisiens considèrent ces femmes parasitaires, are approximately 1,300 Chinese sex workers sexuellement corrompues et avares, tandis que in Paris. Contrary to what many believe, alcertains internâtes chinois ont marqué Hu une most all of the Lotus Women had a stable job «traîtresse» car elle « s’est vendue ». in China before their plunge into the dark unNéanmoins, les Femmes de Lotus s’efdercurrents of Belleville; many were well-edforcent à faire disparaître les malentendus. ucated. However, China’s market reform in Un mois après la mort de Hu, un groupe 2001 rendered them jobless overnight. Most des travailleuses du sexe et des anciennes tracome from northeastern China and took trevailleuses du sexe, dont la plupart sont chimendous risks to find work in France, to escape noises, se sont réunies either abuse from their husband or avec des organisations their bleak economic prospects— comme Médecins du or both. All of them started out Even after Hu’s death, Monde dans la région as homemakers, cooks, or janitors, de Belleville, pour la yet they couldn’t hold on to these misconceptions about Journée internationale jobs, for competition was intense the Lotus Women still pour l’élimination des and their lack of legal residence prevail among commu- status in France made them easy violences faites aux travailleurs du sexe. targets of discrimination and abuse. nities in both France Elles criaient tant et Even after Hu’s death, misconand China. According plus—en une langue ceptions about the Lotus Women to The Daily Beast, avec laquelle elles ne still prevail among communities in sont pas familières— French police continue both France and China. According des slogans et des to The Daily Beast, French police to search the bags of chansons qui exigent continue to search the bags of midmiddle-aged Chinese mettre la fin à la disdle-aged Chinese women in Belcrimination. Les méwomen in Belleville and leville and fine them if condoms are dias se sont amassés à found. A Chinese restaurant owner fine them if condoms Paris pour rapporter living in Burgundy told China Raare found. leur manifestation vodio International that the presence cale ; plusieurs manof Chinese sex workers makes her ifestantes ont figuré feel “uncomfortable, ashamed, and sur la caméra et ont exigé une meilleure humiliated.” Some Parisian residents view connaissance de la part des gens de leur these women as parasitic, sexually corrupt, profession. Pendant ce temps, les activand money-hungry, whereas some Chinese istes en Chine s’occupaient d’amasser des netizens have labeled Hu a “traitor” because fonds pour améliorer leurs conditions de vie. she “sold herself.” Pourtant, les Femmes de Lotus auront Nevertheless, the Lotus Women are striving beaucoup plus d’obstacles à surmonter si elles to eradicate these misunderstandings. A month veulent détruire entièrement le stigmate, la after Hu’s death, a group of sex workers and haine et les malentendus dont elles souffrent former sex workers, mostly of Chinese descent, quotidiennement. gathered with numerous groups, including the organization Médecins du Monde (Doctors of the World), in the area of Belleville on the International Day to End Violence against Sex Workers. Over and over, they chanted —in a language they are not familiar with— slogans and songs that demanded an end to discrimination. Press flocked to Paris to report their vocal demonstration; many appeared on camera and beseeched better understanding of their profession. Meanwhile, activists in China were busy petitioning and fundraising to ameliorate their living conditions. Yet to fully destroy the stigma, hatred, and misconceptions that they suffer on a daily basis, the Lotus Women s till have a long way to go.

Langue et Culture By Brian Beekley, PC ’18 In this examination of his decision to study French as a second language, Brian discusses the benefits of learning a foreign language and its implications on a broader cultural scale.

Quand j’étais au collège et que, pour la première fois, j’ai dû suivre un cours de langue, j’ai annoncé à mes amis que je voulais apprendre le français. Tout le monde en était choqué. Personne ne comprenait pourquoi je n’avais pas plutôt choisi l’espagnol, comme l’avaient fait la majorité des étudiants de mon école. Il est vrai qu’en tant que résident de Californie, j’aurais dû avoir un penchant pour le choix opposé—ici, beaucoup parlent espagnol, nos villes portent des noms espagnols, et la nourriture mexicaine est omniprésente. Ainsi, personne ne croyait en l’utilité d’apprendre une langue autre que celle-là. Mes amis et même mes instructeurs m’ont demandé, « Quand utiliseras-tu le français ? Personne ne le parle en dehors de la France. Il ne s’avèrerait pas utile de choisir cette langue. » Ceci ne fait qu’illustrer la conception américaine erronée des études linguistiques. Beaucoup d’étudiants américains considèrent le processus d’apprendre une langue comme long, difficile et sans satisfaction immédiate. Beaucoup n’ont jamais voyagé à l’étranger, et la plupart de ceux qui l’ont fait ont rarement eu besoin d’utiliser leurs connaissances linguistiques, car il ne manquait jamais de personnes à proximité qui savaient parler anglais. Ainsi, « l’utilité » apparente d’apprendre une langue a disparu. Cependant, l’apprentissage d’une langue apporte deux avantages distincts, l’un des deux n’étant pas limité à la communication : l’avantage de la compréhension culturelle, qualité dont le manque est souvent reproché aux Américains. Il est difficile de bien connaître et comprendre une autre culture, avec toutes ses coutumes, traditions, nuances et histoire sans connaissance de la langue.

When I was in middle school and, for the first time, faced with a language requirement, I told my friends that I wanted to learn French. Everyone was shocked. Nobody could understand why I did not want to learn Spanish like most of the other students at my school. Growing up in California, we were constantly surrounded by Spanish influences—many people speak Spanish, our cities have Spanish names, and Mexican food is ubiquitous. Nobody saw the value in learning a language other than Spanish. My friends and even my other teachers asked, “When will you even use French? Nobody speaks it outside of France. It is not a very useful skill.” This demonstrates a big American misconception about language study. Many American students find learning a language to be a long and difficult process that lacks immediate gratification. Many have never been abroad, and if they have, have never been in a situation where someone nearby did not speak proficient English. Thus, the apparent “utility” of language study is lost on us. However, learning a language provides two distinct benefits, and only one of them involves communication. The other benefit is cultural understanding, which Americans are all too often criticized for lacking. It is difficult to truly know and understand another culture, with all of its customs, traditions, nuances, and history, without learning its language. The two language departments at my school were nearly opposite in the approach used to teach the language. The Spanish program was very clearly designed to help students attain the maximum level of proficiency that could be reached by the end of four years of high

Les deux départements de langues de mon collège fonctionnaient de manière presque contraires en termes de stratégie qu’ils utilisaient pour enseigner la langue. La mission du programme espagnol était clairement d’enseigner aux étudiants la plus grande maîtrise possible de ce langage en l’espace de quatre ans. Mes amis qui suivaient les cours d’espagnol parlaient toujours de leurs cahiers d’exercices, fiches à remplir, et examens du jour. Ils s’asseyaient à la table pendant le déjeuner et se dépêchaient de finir leurs exercices qui, jour après jour, leur bourraient le crâne de constructions syntaxiques. On ne parlait jamais de la culture ; il y avait seulement de temps à autre un déjeuner Taco Bell. Mais dans mes cours de français, nous étions enseignés différemment. Notre instruction s’axait sur notre capacité à parler de la culture française et des autres pays francophones. Dès que nous avions atteint un niveau de compréhension suffisant, nous commencions à discuter de la culture, de la littérature et des films français. Mon enseignant nous apprenait la grammaire seulement lorsqu’il y avait un besoin spécifique. En terme de devoirs, nous avons dû faire de la cuisine française (un moment de vive hilarité s’en est suivi quand ceux qui manquaient de talent culinaire ont présenté leurs galettes des rois à la classe), rédiger des commentaires sur l’absurde et l’existentialisme, et discuter du rôle du dimanche aux yeux de la société française d’aujourd’hui. Dès la fin de notre dernière année, nous avions déjà acquis non seulement une aisance dans la langue française, mais aussi une certaine compréhension de la culture française. La compréhension culturelle est un outil puissant. Il devient trop facile pour les Américains de penser que notre culture est acceptée comme culture courante à l’échelle mondiale. Bien qu’une grande partie du monde parle anglais et écoute la musique pop américaine, il existe d’innombrables autres cultures dans le monde, chacune d’entre elles unique et vibrante, qu’il faut respecter et comprendre. La langue peut sembler se réduire à un moyen de communication; en réalité, elle va bien au-delà de cela. Il existe un sens vital de la culture, d’identité, et de tradition qu’il est impossible de saisir sans connaissance de la langue. Ainsi, nos écoles doivent prendre ceci à cœur et restructurer leurs programmes de langues afin d’accorder plus d’attention à la compréhension culturelle, plutôt que de se restreindre à l’apprentissage de la grammaire. La maitrise de l’oral et de l’écrit vient à force d’entrainement, mais celle-ci vaut peu si nous n’essayons même pas de comprendre la vie des gens avec qui nous communiquons.

school. My friends in the class were constantly talking about the workbooks, worksheets, exercises, and quizzes that were due that day. They would sit at the lunch table and scramble to finish handouts that drilled repetitive sentence structures into their heads day after day. Culture was never talked about; occasionally, there would be a Taco Bell food day. But in my French classes, we were taught differently. Our instruction focused on getting us to a level of proficiency at which we could discuss culture, literature, and films. As soon as we could understand it, our classes turned into French culture courses, where grammar was only discussed when there was a specific need. We were assigned to make French food for homework (hilarity ensued when those less talented at the culinary arts presented their traditional galette des Rois to the class), wrote essays on works of absurdism and existentialism, and debated what the role of Sundays should be in modern French culture. By the end of our senior year, we were not only proficient in the French language, but also fluent in French culture. Cultural understanding is a powerful tool. It is too easy for Americans to feel as if our culture is accepted everywhere as global currency. Although much of the world may speak English well and listen to American pop songs, there are countless other unique and vibrant cultures in the world that need to be respected, understood, and followed. Language may seem like just a means of communication, but it is far more than that. It is a sense of culture, identity, and tradition. Our schools should take this fact to heart and structure their language programs around cultural understanding instead of grammatical proficiency. Speaking, listening, and writing will eventually come with practice, but it has little meaning if we do not understand the lives of the people with whom we are communicating.

hebrew

My first name is Deena, and my middle name is Joy. I am named after my great-grandmother Dorothy. My name was almost Dorothy, too, but my parents thought it wasn’t a modern name. My middle name is after my great-grandfather, Jack. In Jewish tradition, one does not name after someone who is living. It is a method of remembering a loved one. Deena is an Israeli, Jewish, and Biblical name, but my parents also gave me Hebrew names: Devorah Chana. I do not use my Hebrew name, because my English name is also a Hebrew name. When I am in Israel, or am in Hebrew class, or am called to the Torah, I only use “Deena.” I love my name because it is a Jewish and Biblical name and it is also a secular name. When I was younger, I didn’t like the name “Joy.” I thought that joy was a feeling, not a name! Now I really like the name Joy. I think that having the name of a good feeling is a good thing to have in my life. In my name there is a connection to my own family, the family I have never met, and my cultural history, which is Jewish history. I don’t have any nicknames because Deena is a short and strong name. I also love that I don’t meet many people with my name in the United States, but that there are many people with the name Deena in Israel. This is something important to my identity: I am American, but I am always Jewish. I don’t know about my last name, but it is a German name. In English, the name “Gottlieb” translates to: “Loves God.” It is a good thing that this is my last name because I want to become a Rabbi!

‫השם שלי‬ by Deena Gottlieb, MC ’15

In this article, Deena explores the meanings behind her name. ‫ השם‬.‫ והשם האמצי שלי ג’וי‬,‫השם הראשון שלי דינה‬ ‫ השם שלי‬.‫ דורותי‬,‫הראשון שלי על שם סבתא–רבתא‬ ‫ אבל ההורים שלי חשבו שזה שם לא‬,‫כמעט דורותי גם‬ .‫ ג’ק‬,‫ השם האמצעי שלי על שם סבא–רבא‬.‫מודרני‬ ‫תויידוהי תורוסמב‬, ‫לש םש לע םש ןתונ אל דחא ףא‬ ‫ דינה שם‬.‫ זה שיטה לזצור מישהו אהוב‬.‫מישהו בחיים‬ ‫ אבל ההורים שלי גם נתנו לי‬,‫ישראלי ויהודי וגם תנכי‬ ‫ אני לא משתמשת שם‬.‫ דבורה חנה‬:‫שמות עברים‬ ‫ כאשר‬.‫העברי שלי כי השם האנגלי זה גם שם עברי‬ ‫ אני‬,‫אני בישראל או בכיתת עברית או בעליה לתורה‬ ‫’ אני אוהבת את השם שלי כי הוא‬.‫משתמשת רק ’דינה‬ ‫ כאשר הייתי יותר‬.‫שם עברי ותנכי וגם שם חילוני‬ ‫ חשבתי שג’וי זה‬.‫ לא אהבתי את השם ג’וי‬,‫קטנה‬ ‫ אני‬.‫ אני אוהבת את השם ג’וי‬,‫ לא שם! עכשיו‬,‫הרגשה‬ ‫חושבת שיש שם של הרגשה טובה – זה משהו טוב‬ ‫ בשם שלי יש קשרים בין המשפחה‬.‫שיש לי בחיים שלי‬ ‫ וגם‬,‫ ובני המשפחה שאני לא פגשתי‬,‫הפרטית‬ .‫ההיסטוריה תרבוית שלי – ההיסטוריה של היהודים‬ ‫ אני גם אוהבת‬.‫אין לי ’נוקנמס’ כי דינה שם קצר וחזק‬ ‫שאני לא פוגשת הרבה אנשים עם השם שלי בארצות‬ ‫ אבל יש הרבה אנשים עם שם דינה‬,‫הברית‬ ‫ אני‬:‫ זה משהו חשוב בשביל הזהות שלי‬.‫בישראל‬ ‫ אני לא‬.‫ אבל אני תמיד יהודיה‬,‫אמריקיית‬ ‫ אבל זה שם‬,‫יודעת האמת על שם המשפחה שלי‬ :‫ באנגלית השם גוטליב מתרגם ל‬.‫גרמני‬ ‫ זה דבר טוב לי יש השם המשפחה‬.’‫’אוהב את אלוהים‬ !‫הזה כי אני רוצה להיות רבה‬

谈谈歧视

by Yifu Dong, BR ’17 Many Chinese people perceive themselves as victims of discrimination in the United States. In this article, Yifu takes a closer look at the nature of discrimination and what Chinese people can do about it.

许多在美国的中国人总是感觉美国人歧视自己。不少在美国的华人常把歧视挂在嘴边，可真正理解歧视的人又有多少呢？我们不得不承认，歧视是动物的本能。这个偏向组群内成员、排斥组群外成员的本能在人类进化过程中不可或缺。不用提种族和国家，单单是心理实验中所谓的“最低限群体范例”—— 即毫无意义的分组，也会使分在同一组的人互利互助，并对组外的成员产生敌对的心理。所以说，作为一个人，产生歧视心理常常是不可避免的，然而正是人们克服歧视心理的能力标志着一个社会的文明程度。其实，那些在美国感受到歧视的中国人没有意识到的是，他们大多都是中国国内歧视性政策的获益者，虽然他们往往有意无意地不愿正视这种歧视。在中国，单是在政策上对农村以及农村户口的人的歧视就十分明显和严重，只要去过中国的人都应该对此有所体会。正是因为政策上的歧视，才使中国农民的社会地位一直很低，由此一直遭到“市民”的歧视。

Many Chinese people in the United States often feel discriminated against by other Americans, and quite a few of them even regard discrimination as a central aspect of their American experience. But what is discrimination, really? First, we must admit that discrimination is an animal instinct. This instinct of favoring in-group members while rejecting out-group member must have proven crucial in the course of human evolution. Psychology studies show that even a “minimum group,” or a group based on meaningless distinctions or random assignment, can cause people to exhibit in-group favoritism and out-group hostility, let alone when that group is a race or nation. Therefore, as a human being, it is often difficult to suppress the urge to discriminate against others. However, in a modern society, we must learn to overcome this instinct, for tolerance and inclusiveness are important markers for the level of civilization and the wellbeing of a society. However, in many countries, discrimination is more than just an instinct; it is institutionalized. In the case of China, frankly speaking, the Chinese people who complain about American discrimination don’t realize that they are the beneficiaries of China’s own discriminative policies, although they do not often like to directly address the discrimination that favors them. Anyone who has lived in China or has enough knowledge about China can easily understand the official policies that severely discriminate against the countryside and rural residents. The countryside receives a negligible amount of public investment, so many areas are without garbage disposal systems, drainage systems or even street lights. Rural residents have fewer opportunities for upward mobility and are excluded from benefits such as health care and so-

cial security. Because of these policies, Chinese rural residents have always been stigmatized by their lowly status in society and rampant discrimination from the city people. Similarly, discrimination in the United States is also more than just an instinct. In fact, we can even argue that for a long time in American history, racial discrimination was buttressed by the American ideology and institutions like slavery. The belief that only the white race was entitled to democracy and self-determination while other races were not lasted well into the beginning of the 20th century. American Founding Fathers such as Washington and Jefferson were slaveholders, and even two prominent presidents of early 20th century, Teddy Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson, were both openly racist. In the meantime, however, the United States was slowly transforming into one of the most racially tolerant societies in the world. This progress was the result of large groups of immigrants. Although the immigrants of other nations and other races were excluded at first from the promises of American ideals such as freedom and equality, the United States has always been improving itself. Under the rule of new laws as well as the pressure of more tolerant popular opinion, explicit racist ideologies, which had long thrived in U.S. history, are now off the stage. Therefore, the discrimination some Chinese people feel today is radically different from the injustice facing Chinese laborers in 19th century America. In the past, discrimination was open suppression against the Chinese and other minority groups on institutional (such as the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882) as well as individual levels. The discrimination today, in comparison, usually just reflects the bigotry and the absurdity of some individuals. Of course, one can argue that discrimination has only become more subtle and efforts to combat implicit discrimination are necessary for further progress. In the meantime, however, the feeling of discrimination of some Chinese people also arises from the rumination of these sentiments, which include a certain degree of self-doubt and lack of confidence. On an individual level, it is more constructive to respond to perceived discrimination with openness and tolerance, instead of complaining and second guessing about other people’s intentions. As long as Chinese people respect themselves, follow the rules and tolerate others, they can definitely count on most Americans to pay them the respect they deserve.

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当然，美国的歧视也不仅仅出自人的本能。我们甚至可以说，美国历史上的种族歧视有很强的意识形态色彩。一直到20世纪初，美国人在很长时间内一直认为只有白人才可以享受自治和民主，而黑人、亚洲人则不具备该能力。美国的国父华盛顿和杰弗逊都是奴隶主，20世纪初两位颇负盛名的老罗斯福和威尔逊总统也都有公开的种族歧视言论。然而与此同时，美国又逐渐转化为世界上最开放的国家之一。这首先得益于美国是移民国家。尽管很多移民在最开始被美国所保证的自由、平等等价值观排除在外，但是在社会各界、特别是为数众多的歧视政策的受益者的不断争取下，到了21世纪，美国已经容下了世界各个族裔、各种信仰的人们。再有，美国虽然没有最完美的制度，但是却拥有一个可以不断自我完善的制度。美国历史上以种族歧视为基础的意识形态，早已在法律的监督和舆论的压力下退出了历史舞台。所以说，现在中国人所认为的歧视，已经和19世纪末中国劳工和移民受到的歧视不可同日而语。19世纪的歧视是大到意识形态和法律（美国国会1882年通过了的《排华法案》），小到个人层面对中国人以及其他少数族裔明目张胆的压迫，然而今天中国人感觉到的歧视只不过是一些肤浅的美国人的冷眼相看，其中许多或许是来自内心的自我怀疑和不自信。因此，由歧视而来的消极心态完全没有必要，毕竟在当今的美国社会，被歧视者显然不用承受道德上的负担，也不用过多质疑制度中的歧视因素。被歧视者应该做的，不是抱着过度敏感的心态一味地埋怨，而是以开放的心态宽容别人并无恶意的误解甚至恶意的歧视。行动是消除歧视和误解的最好方法。中国人只要尊重他人、尊重社会规则，在现代的美国社会就可以赢得更多人的尊重。

中美误解的来源 by Scott Remer, PC ’16 History may provide answer for the longstanding misconceptions between the American and the Chinese people.

众所周知，一般的美国人对亚洲文化的概念十分模糊。虽然中国、日本和韩国的文化之间存在着相当明显的区别，但是似乎在美国并没有那么多人能够清楚地解释它们的异同。同样的，尽管美国的流行文化传播的范围很广，但是根据我与一些中国人交流的经验来看，普通的中国人对美国的了解也很少。在一定程度上，这样的误会是不可避免的。中国和美国在文化上有巨大的差别，而且两国交流的历史相对短暂。然而，因为中美关系在世界舞台上扮演着举足轻重的角色，再加上两国人民之间的了解程度可能会影响中美关系，所以中美两国人民互不了解的现象值得我们剖析。据我猜测，美国人对中国人的印象仍主要来自于二十世纪早期和冷战时期的刻板。长期以来，中美关系基本上只限于与传教或贸易，并没有包括平民老百姓之间的文化交流。所以，在不少美国人眼中，中国是异国的代名词，代表着所有的新奇与未知。这样一来，多半的美国人将中国人和日本人自然地混在一起。譬如，他们以为中国人有鞠躬的习惯或者平常用复杂的尊称来表示对某人的尊敬。二十世纪初，大多数西方人戴着有色眼镜来看华人。一位名叫罗伯特·格林的法国记者出版了一本

As everyone knows, ordinary Americans have very little comprehension of Asian culture. Although China, Japan, and Korea all have very important cultural differences, it seems that many Americans don’t grasp those differences very well. Conversely, although American pop culture is everywhere, based on my experiences in China, it seems that the average Chinese person doesn’t really understand American culture either. To a certain degree, this mutual misunderstanding is natural. Chinese culture and American culture are vastly divergent, and Sino-American relations have a relatively short history. However, because US-China relations play such a crucial role in international affairs, and because the quality of the relationship between ordinary people in both countries could potentially influence the timbre of US-China relations, this phenomenon of mutual incomprehension deserves a closer look. I suspect that Americans’ impression of China is still based upon stereotypes formed during the early 20th century and the Cold War era. For a long time, Chinese-Ameri-

How can we solve these problems? ... our countries should strive to broadcast more accurate depictions of one another’s societies.

叫《蓝色的蚂蚁》的书。那本书的内容反映出西方国家对中国的误会与错误印象。不经意间，作者扭曲了华人的形象，给读者造成错觉。通过《蓝色的蚂蚁》的书名，他暗示着中国人身着统一的毛装，缺乏创造性，毫无鲜明个性可言。在作者的心目中，中国人是不解之谜。除此之外，五十年代时，朝鲜战争造成了中美之间的冲突和暴力。作为共产主义国家，中国与苏联团结了起来。中美的血腥战争给美国人的集体意识留下难以愈合的精神创伤。一部叫做《满洲候选人》的电影体现了那个时代美国人的紧张。这部电影的情节围绕着中国军队的一个阴谋：一些中国间谍将一个被俘虏的美国士兵洗脑，并企图以他为刺杀美国总统的工具。从这部电影的角度而言，中国是阴险的敌人。虽然这些例子表面上是源于相对遥远的往事，不过它们实际上显示出根深蒂固的偏见。你只要看提及中国的报纸文章或电视上关于中国的新闻报告立刻就会发现这个不争的事实。如此的嫌疑和误会并不是美国人的特殊问题。一般而言，目前的中国人对于美国文化只有相对肤浅的了解。我在中国没有机会和很多中国人交流，但我每逢跟中国人聊天，一提到美国就会听到“强大”和“发达”这两个词。至于具体的状况，仿佛许多中国人以美国所出口的流行文化为基础来分析并评价美国。比方说，询问美国的社会问题，大多中国人意识不到在美国存在着很多跟中国很相似的问题：贫富差距、全球变暖、国家精神空虚等等。如何解决这样的问题呢？依我看，中美两国应当力求展示对方真实的形象。尽管美国的生活水平高于中国，美国也不是一个乌托邦。与美国人的错误印象恰恰相反，中国是一个非常多元化的国家，而且中国人充满着激情、个性和想象力。因此，我希望中美两国可以有更为频繁的交流项目和普通公民之间的对话。在通往相互理解的道路上，我们任重而道远。

can relations were limited to missionaries’ proselytizing and didn’t include direct interactions between ordinary people. To ordinary Americans, China represented the alien. It was a symbol of all foreign places. Consequently, most Americans confused China and Japan. For instance, they thought bowing and using complicated honorifics were part of Chinese culture. Most Westerners were prejudiced against China. A French journalist by the name of Robert Guillain published The Blue Ants, a book whose contents reflected Westerners’ mistaken impressions of China. Even though he perhaps didn’t mean to, Guillain defamed the Chinese people and gave his readers an incorrect understanding of China. The book’s title insinuated that the Chinese were homogeneous drones who wore Mao suits and lacked creativity and individual personalities. In Guillain’s opinion, the Chinese were inscrutable. Besides this, during the 1950s, the Korean War intensified tensions and violence between the US and China. As a Communist country, China supported the Soviet Union. The bloody conflict between the Chinese and Americans scarred Americans’ national psyche. The Manchurian Candidate, a movie of that era, typified Americans’ fear. The plot of the movie revolves around a conspiracy hatched by the Chinese military to brainwash an American POW and use him as a tool to assassinate the American president. The Chinese portrayed in the movie are sinister and scheming enemies. Although these examples are from the fairly distant past, it seems that they reflect a deep-seated strand of thought. One need only look at newspaper and TV reports on China to realize that these views of China are still alive and well in the US. These suspicions and misunderstandings aren’t problems exclusive to Americans. In general, Chinese people today have only a cursory understanding of American culture. Although I had relatively few chances to engage in deep, politics-related conversations with Chinese people while in China, every time I talked with a Chinese person and mentioned America, my conversational partner would always use the phrases “strong and powerful” and “highly developed.” It seems that most Chinese base their evaluations of America on the bits of American pop culture that we export. For instance, if you ask about America’s social problems, most Chinese are unaware of the fact that America suffers from many of the same problems China does—the gap between the rich and the poor, global warming, a crisis of national confidence, and so on. How can we solve these problems? I think it’s easier said than done, but our countries should strive to broadcast more accurate depictions of one another’s societies. Although America surpasses China in many respects relating to quality of life, America isn’t a utopia. And in contrast to Americans’ mistaken views of China, China is a remarkably diverse country, and the Chinese are full of passion, energy, and imagination, and most certainly have individual personalities. Through more frequent exchange programs and dialogue between average citizens of both countries, one hopes that we can achieve mutual understanding and cooperation and build friendly and harmonious relations for generations to come.

不知你是否考虑过没有,“误解”这个词本身就有很大的误导性。中美之间的文化交流明明没有那么多误解，而人们却偏偏把“误解”挂在嘴边。在我看来，这才是最大的误解。所谓误解，首先是一个“错误”。若一个误解者犯了错误，那么他应该做的是改正错误，甚至在有些时候需要向被误解者道歉。这种思路的对抗性与破坏性是很明显的。中美之间所谓的“文化误解”恐怕重点不在文化。以美国作为移民国家的包容，对于任何奇风异俗都能笑而纳之。因此现在的问题决不是美国人吃牛肉、中国人吃猪肉的问题，而是一系列与政治有关的话题，比如人权与价值观的讨论。中美之间的文化交流被政治和意识形态的噪音扰乱已经很久了。这是一个很可悲的现实，但是我们也不得不面对。我想应对这个问题的最好方法就是首先不要认为谁误解了谁。“误解”隐含着一种危险的道德主义和预设的价值判断，极易变成对一方的谴责，从而使讨论失去理性。比如说，中美两方的价值观，哪一个更好？这个问题从不同的立场出发，自然得出不同的观点，没有对错，没有高下。在对方眼中，己方的资料永远是不充足的，逻辑永远是不正确的，观点永远是不全面的，对对方的攻击永远是无力的。因此：你犯了“错误” ，你“误解”了我，如果你没有误解我，你一定会被我的伟大光荣正确所说服。这就是现在中美双方共有的心态。误解如果是无心的，说明你蠢；如果是有心的，说明你坏。这样的日子，什么时候能到头呢？因此我真诚地希望，以后中国人和美国人交流的时候，少提“ 误解”，甚至不提“误解”，多看看对方的观点，而不要总是苦着脸感到自己受了委屈。任何人都不是全知全能的，因此自己的观点永远有纰漏。如此说来，我们永远生活在“误解”之中。“误解”这个词儿就像一剂麻醉剂，可以让人自大而不自省。在文化交流中，“误解”这个词还是尽量少用吧！

并非“误解” by Wenbin Gao, SM ’18

Is the word “misconception,” in the context of Sino-US cultural exchange, a misconception in itself?

The word “misconception,” in the context of Sino-US cultural exchanges, is itself perhaps the greatest misconception. “Mis”-conception suggests a mistake, and often implies criticism. The person who “mis”-understands is obliged to recognize his mistake, and maybe apologize to the one being “mis”-understood. Such aggressiveness on both sides may turn a rational conversation into finger pointing. The so-called “cultural misconception” between China and the US has little to do with culture. The huge immigration population in the US has long weakened the monopoly of mainstream culture, if such a monopoly ever existed. Personally, I find the US extremely tolerant of different cultures. The issue at hand is not whether Chinese people should eat pork or beef. Rather, the “misconception” between the two countries concerns a series of politically related topics such as the Diaoyudao/Senkaku issue and the Tibetan issue. The normal Sino-US cultural exchange has long been interrupted by political and ideological noise. In this situation, I believe our best approach may be to abandon the idea of “misconception,” because it contains dangerous presuppositions of right and wrong. Such presuppositions undermine rational conversation. Whom do the Senkaku or Diaoyu Islands belong to? From different starting points, different parties naturally arrive at different conclusions. Each conclusion is reasonable from a certain perspective. From the perspective of your opponent, you have not gathered enough evidence, made logical mistakes and have made inconclusive remarks. Your attacks on your opponent’s position must always be wrong because you “mis”-understood. The shared mentality on both sides surrounding numerous debates between China and America goes as follows: If you hadn’t misinterpreted my arguments, you would have been persuaded. If you misunderstood me unintentionally, you are stupid. If you did it intentionally, you must have ulterior motives. When can such meaningless finger-pointing come to an end? I sincerely hope that in the future, both sides consciously refrain from using the word “misconception.” Both sides should try harder to understand the logic behind the other side’s position instead of acting like being wronged. No one is omniscient; we are all limited in our understanding. We live in a world of misunderstandings. The word “misconception” is an anesthetic, protecting us from self-criticism by providing an excuse to blame others. There is an old Chinese saying, “Troubles are created by those seeking troubles.” Chinese and Americans are not misunderstanding each other. They are merely voicing different opinions on similar subjects. Such discussion and debate are integral to a healthy Sino-US relationship.

by Sandy Wongwaiwate, BK ’17 One of the most distinguishable features of a country is its food. As an international student studying overseas, I am constantly searching for the most authentic Thai food near campus. Dining hall experiences have been quite enlightening and also surprisingly tasty at times.

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พอย้ า ยมาจากประเทศที่ ค นรู้ จั ก กั น ว่ า ดินแดนของผัดไทยกับต้มยํากุ้งมาเรียนที่ อเมริกาเวลา เจอคนที่ไม่รู้จักและต้องแนะ นํ าตั ว เองใหม่ ทุ ก คนเขาจะรี บ บอกว่ า ชอบ อาหารไทยมาก ตอน แรกเราก็หลงเชื่อว่าคน เมืองนี้นัน ้ ชอบรสชาติอาหารไทยต้นตําหรับ จริง แต่หลังจากอยู่มาสัก พักก็เริ่มเข้าใจ ว่าที่จริงแล้วคนต่างชาติน้อยคนที่เคยได้ลิม ้ รสอาหารไทยแบบต้นฉบับ ไป ร้านอาหาร ไทยทีไรก็เจอแต่แกงที่มีช่ อ ื เป็ น สีเหลือง สีแดง หรือไม่ก็สีเขียว ถึงแม้แกงพวกนี้ ลองทานแล้วก็อร่อยแต่ว่ามันไม่ใช่รสชาติ อาหารไทยที่แท้จริง บางครัง้ เวลาไปกับ เพื่อนไป ทานที่ร้านอาหารไทย เมนูผัดขีเ้ มา กลับมีรสชาติเหมือนผัดซีอว ิ้ ทานมามาน เกินไปจนลืมไป แล้วว่าผัดขีเ้ มาที่แท้จริง หน้ าตาและรสชาติเป็ นอย่างไร แต่ว่าอาหาร ไทยในโรงอาหารนัน ้ เป็ นอีกเรื่องหนึ่ง จาน ที่เคยเจอและชอบที่สุดคือ ผัดเส้นใส่ซอส ถัว ่ ไทย ฟั งแล้วอาจจะงงนิด หนึ่งเพราะคน ไทยเขาไม่ใช้ถว ั ่ กันแบบนี้ ถึงแม้หน้ าตา จะดูแปลกๆ ฟั งแล้วไม่รู้ว่าอร่อยมัย ้ แต่ ทานแล้วก็มีรสชาติที่ใช้ได้ทีเดียว ผัดไทย ที่ เ สริ ฟ์ บ่ อ ยๆในโรงอาหารก็ ห น้ าตาดู ดี แ ต่ ก็ไม่ ค่อยเหมือนผัดไทยแบบที่ทานที่บ้าน การทําอาหารที่ไม่ใช่ของประเทศตัวเอง นัน ้ เป็ นเรื่องยาก ยิ่งจะทําให้อร่อยนัน ้ ยิ่ง ยากเข้าไป ใหญ่ ถ้าจะให้คนไทยลองทํา อาหารเม็กซิกันให้รสชาติแบบต้นฉบับก็คง ยากเหมือนกัน เวลา เห็นคําว่า ไทย ในเมนู อาหารทีไรความรู้สึกครึ่งหนึ่ งรู้สึกรําคาญที่ เขาบังอาจมาเรียกว่าไทย ทัง้ ที่รสชาติไม่ใช่ ไทยเลย อีกครึ่งหนี่งของความรู้สึกคือความ แปลกใจปนกับความสงสัย ที่ รสชาติต่างจาก ของจริ ง ขนาดนี้ เ ป็ นเพราะเขากลั ว ว่ า คน ต่างชาติจะไม่คุ้นหรือว่าเขาไม่รู้ว่า รสชาติ ที่แท้จริงแล้วเป็ นอย่างไร? บางคนก็บอก ว่าเขาทําแบบนี้ เพราะคนต่างชาติจะทนรส จัดไม่ได้ อย่างเช่นเอาผัดขีเ้ มามาเสิร์ฟ ให้นักเรียนทานต่อไปคงไม่มีใครอยากลอง ทานอีก แต่บางทีคนไทยอย่างเราก็อยาก จะให้คนต่างประเทศได้ลองรสชาติท่ีแท้จริง บ้างและไม่ต้อง เปลี่ยนรสชาติและหน้ าตา ขนาดนี้ คนเขาเรียกประเทศอเมริกาเป็ น เหมือนจานสลัดใหญ่จาน หนึ่งที่ตอนนี้มี เครื่องปรุงกับความหลากหลายที่เยอะเกิน ไป แต่ก็หวังว่าในจานสลัดใหญ่จาน นี้ยังพอ มี ที่ ว่ า งเหลื อ อยู่ สํ า หรั บ เครื่ อ งไทยต้ น ตํ า ห รับที่แท้จริง

For me, every meal in the dining hall is a unique adventure. Will there be the famous diced apple kale salad with cranberries today? Or is the quinoa nut mix awaiting me as I pause by the salad bar on my way to the hot food section? I have to admit I am a supportive fan of Yale Dining. When I step into the Berkeley dining hall and witness the array of freshly prepared, spectacular dishes being brought out, my smile gets a little wider and my step a little bouncier. I always end up with a colorful, mouthwatering collection of food on my plate. However, I have to say the best part of my dining hall excursions is when Yale Dining decides to serve Thai food. Hailing from the land of pad thai and tom yum goong, when I first introduce myself to strangers, I hear from numerous people that they are passionately in love with Thai food. At first, I believe them. But then I slowly begin to realize my error in blindly trusting them. That red, yellow, or green curry they order at their favorite local Thai restaurant? I trust that it must be delicious, but probably whatever they are eating is not actually authentic Thai food. Sometimes, when I accompany my friends to a Thai restaurant, the drunken noodles resembles the pad see ew dish so much that it even confuses me what the real drunken noodles dish actually looks like anymore. When it comes to dining hall food, I encounter another rendition of Thai dishes. The peanut sauce noodles occasionally placed in the salad section? I must confess that I have a great preference for it, but maybe it’s only because I wouldn’t find it at home. Thai people use peanut sauce, but I have never seen this kind of dish before. The pad thai in Commons’ Asian section is quite delicious, but again it’s not what I see in restaurants back home. I don’t blame the dining hall cooks. I don’t even want to imagine how my attempt at making a frittata would turn out. However, every time I glimpse “Thai” in the menu, a mix of feelings grows within me. Part of me is annoyed that these dishes are being labeled as Thai even though they don’t have any connection to real Thai food. The other part of me is curious as to how to the latest Thai dish will be reinterpreted. What if the dining halls only transform my local Thai dishes in order to adapt the taste to American food? The average American can’t handle that kind of taste, some might say. These drunken noodles will be too spicy for the students. I just hope the Thai flavor will not be completely rejected during its transformation in American dining places. Some may consider the American salad bowl to already have too much seasoning and ingredients, but I only hope there is still some room left to add a pinch of Thai spice to the mix.

For information regarding submissions, advertisements, or to give us feedback, please contact the editor-in-chief at: omegar.chavolla-zacarias@yale.edu Disclaimer

This magazine is published by Yale College students, and Yale University is not responsible for its content. The opinions expressed by the contributors to Accent do not necessarily reflect those of its staff or advertisers. The magazine is run by the undergraduate student organization accent. the undergraduate multilingual magazine at Yale. This publication is supported by the Center for Language Study, the Council on Latin American & Iberian Studies, the Council on Middle East Studies, the European Studies Council, with a Title VI grant from the US Department of Education, the German Department, the French Department, the Hebrew Program, and the Undergraduate Organizations Committee.

Editor-in-Chief

Omegar Chavolla-Zacarias, BR ’16 Publisher

Isidora Stankovic, TD ’16 Head Copy Editor

Miranda Melcher, BR ’16 Creative Director

Vincent Tanutama, TD ’16 Language Editors

Chinese: Yifu Dong, BR ’17 French: Nicole Cai, PC ’18 and Mélanie Ullmo, SY ’18 Hebrew: Dan Nahum, SM ’16 Italian: Alessandro Luciano, PC ’18 Korean: Ho Kyeong Jang, PC ’17 Portuguese: Adam Mahler, TD ’17 Russian: Irina Gavrilova, BK ’17 Spanish: Lucia Baca, PC ’17 The Babel: Kevin Hwang, BK ’17

English Editors

Ida Tsutsumi Acuna, SY ’15, Gowri Kalugotla, BR ’16, Scott Remer, PC ’16, Katie Martin, PC ’18, Alexandra Lombardo, JE ’18, Edward Dong, JE ’17, Zara Contractor, TC ’17, Hannah Schmitt, PC ’18, Dasia Moore, PC ’18, Christian Soler, MC ’16, Victoria Wang, PC ’18 Creative Team

Maria Melchor, MC ’18 and Sienna Jun, MC ’16 Website

Angie Hanawa, ES ’15 Senior Editor

Igor Mitschka, SY ’15

German: This could be you! Contact Accent for more information.

Cover models: Christian Probst PC ’16 and Sarah Chapin, BK ’17. Photo courtesies of Patrick Johnson p. 4 and Dasia Moore p. 32; Pedro Ribeiro Simões p. 6, Greg Bishop p. 8, Fr Maxim Massalitin p. 9, Aristipo Crónica Popular p. 9, Sharon & Nikki McCutcheon p. 17, Elizabeth Amore Bradley p. 20, The Jewish Agency for Israel p. 39, Carlos Smith p. 40, and Uwe Schwarzbach p. 46 through Flickr; Mohan Yin p. 42; and Wikimedia Commons pp. 11, 13, 14, 34-39.