on culture, part 286...

a recent u.n. report found that half the world’s population lives in urban areas. the npr reporter working the story spoke from karachi,
pakistan, one of the fastest growing cities in recent times. the estimate is that 12 million people live in karachi today, though pakistanis say the number is close to 15-18 million souls. in the background of the reporter’s narrative were the familiar sounds of cars and motorcycles, rickshaws and honking horns.

i wonder if a person’s birthplace subconsciously influences a person’s psyche for the rest of their lives? even if no recollection exists, there must be buried memories somewhere.
i was born in karachi nearly 26 years ago, and have lived in the united states for the last 25 (omitting of course the 3 years i recently spent in europe). i wonder if that influences that complete balance of pakistani and american cultures. that hyphen between my identities is a tenuous thread, and at times, it seems i am neither this nor that (or, even more confusingly, both this AND that). hyphenated identities are a strange sort of schizophrenia – if mixed properly, they enrich while they deter, are maddening while being comforting. tip too much in either direction – towards one or the other – and you are half of a person. keep both halves simultaneously in your head, and risk going mad because of the two people in your mind. the singular individual is not an option.

it’s all about cultural nuance. certain cultural norms may be frustrating, but their worth is evident in their absence – lose them, and you both lobotomize and alienate yourself. you walk lopsided, you trip and fall and lose your sense of balance. odd as it may seem, culture provides balance.

take for instance the irritation i feel when dragged (kicking and screaming at times) to the whirling social obligations created by my parents’ friends. their essence is lost to anyone who’s not part of the pakistani community. you encounter all types of people, and i’ve been going to them for years – every weekend, you dress up in a shalwar kameez and heels, put on your make-up and your best face, and sail into a foray of love-hate relationships. children are thrown together at a young age, and some form life-long friendships, some form friendships that reveal themselves to have been fickle for years, while others retain mere acquaintances, and still others harbor animosity towards each other for events that happened long ago (a shoe, a window, falling glass, and a small, innocent child, who was once goaded into committing the ultimate childhood sin of telling) or grudges that their parents hold. put these people together and let them simmer over years and years. most children break away, some are made to attend everything for the sake of appearance, their failures and triumphs dragged across the dinner tables of other people’s houses.

i was told that i always needed to go because these get-togethers have lesson-potential. my mother tells me constantly that i’ll have to deal with all sorts of people in my life, and that these “davats” are prime learning ground. i’ve resisted this idea for years – and lately, some have become unbearable because no one my age, friend or foe, comes anymore. when they do, it’s mostly foes. the last few parties, i’ve been relegated to entertaining young children (a whole hoard, all under the age of 6) and helping with the washing up.

but it’s true, you do learn from it. it’s strengthened my relationship with my cousins and brothers (with whom i can now form a close knit circle of interesting and stimulating – and ok, sometimes silly – conversation/discussion). it’s created a tolerance in me for all types of people. i have patience i never knew i possessed, with some of the most irritating and bitchy people i’ve ever met. i’ve learned to keep up appearances. i’ve learned to feel defensive of my parents. i know how to be respectful, how not to argue with my elders, how not to raise my voice to my parents. i've learned more than i realize.

cultural nuance is a concept that some people don't get. at all. in the end, they limit themselves to either one camp or the other - the american, or the pakistani - and cut off forever that other half of the whole. but the intricacies of thought involved in pleasing everyone don't necessarily mean you lose yourself, that you put on a facade, that you are not self-respecting and strong, that you're not honest with yourself and others. sometimes, it takes a stronger person to bite back the urge to argue - sometimes, you're a stronger person for having put in that filter between your mouth and your brain.