Never use culture to defend violence

I lost a friend a few months ago. She did something that I cannot abide. Ever. And when I called her out on it - and, yes, I did, because she said it publicly - she dumped my ass. 

She very publicly defended an act of violence, saying that it was justified because it is a part of a particular group's culture, and because I am not a part of that culture, I had no right to speak out about it. She's someone that considers herself deeply progressive and culturally mindful, so when she said it, I was flabbergasted. And she double downed on it when I called it a racist idea. Which it is. 

I've heard it from people on all parts of the political spectrum, from right to left: the idea that a murder, a punch, a slap, a public humiliation, is something we have to somehow tolerate and accept and not condemn because that's the culture of the person doing the murdering, the punching, the slapping, and since we're not from that culture, we have to be silent. That somehow, this person, because of his culture and, implied, because of his race, cannot be reasonable in that circumstance and I shouldn't expect him to. 

I've heard culture used to defend: 

• bombings
• mass shootings
• "honor killings" (the murder of women)
• female genital mutliation
• domestic violence
• abuse of children
• a physical altercation between two people or a group of people
• rape, including child "marriage" and forced "marriage"
• kidnapping
• hazing
• abuse of animals purely for people's entertainment, like dog fighting or bullfighting
• racism

I've heard, from people across the political spectrum:

• It's their way of resolving conflict/bonding. 
• That's a deeply ingrained part of their culture. 
• You have to understand that these people have their own ideas. 
• You have to respect that they have a different way of dealing with things.
• This is a traditional way of addressing certain issues by this particular group.

There are so many examples of this:

• Cultural differences no excuse for domestic violence, Candian judges rule
• Cultural Defense as a Shield for Violence
• Whoopi Goldberg defends Vick's dog-fighting role

I wouldn't tolerate that crap from anyone on the right - why in the world would I tolerate it on the left?

It's not easy to have this mindset when you work in international development. I went to a colleague, a gender specialist from a certain very conservative country in the Northern Hemisphere and I don't mean North America, and told her I was really struggling with hearing these kinds of comments from aid workers, domestic and foreign, in our duty station. She made it clear to me that she does not tolerate such comments herself - her respect for local culture ends when that culture engages in violence. Period. And she gave me tips on how to respond to comments about it when confronted with it. She also made it clear that, if you are committed to human rights, you have to be ready to say, "That's unacceptable" even to a group you are trying to help. 

If the translation of whatever you are saying can be boiled down to "Well, that's just how THOSE people are," I'm going to respond with something you are not going to like hearing from me. So, to avoid it, don't say it around me. Just don't. 

And for the record, the thought enters my mind sometimes when I am seeing something. It's taken a lot of work, and will take a lot of ongoing work, to undo that idea of those people. Every person on Earth is raised with it, and it is reinforced in a thousand different ways for all of us, through media, through society, through ourselves. My struggle continues in that regard. And there is NOT just one good way to be compassionate, to be mindful, to be caring and to act with care, nor to resolve conflict. Absolutely, there are cultural differences in how all of those things happen, and I hope there always are. But not when it comes to the acceptance of violence. 

The power of group singing

I bought a very expensive but totally worth it book called 101 Timeless Songs: a resource for easy song leading. I'm using it to learn to play piano, but it's designed for song leaders to use in, say, senior communities. If you are learning to play piano, or guitar, or ukelele, or you want a songbook you can use to lead singing in a group, this book is amazing. Simplified chords, chord charts for piano, guitar, and ukulele, and songs indexed by the number of chords, their key, and relevant themes. "This resource sprouted from the clinical practice of two board-certified music therapists with a combined 38 years of experience."

Order the book here. 

The very first song I learned to play on piano was out of this book. It was Amazing Grace. 

I also learned Simple Gifts. 

And Happy Birthday! 

It's not the only book I'm using, but it's the most fun. Here are all my imperfect recitals. 

My only regret is that I didn't start learning to play piano, and didn't have this book, when my grandmothers were still alive. 

Thankful.

I spent a week in Henderson, Kentucky. I'm so sorry I couldn't announce it openly - I was there just a week and I was focused on spending time with my mother and helping to clean out her house. That meant I just couldn't spend time with so many people I would have loved to see. 

If I didn't get to see you, I'm so sorry. It's nothing personal - I just really wanted to be focused on my Mom. 

I had a plan to write a blog as soon as I got back from Kentucky, but I got the 'Rona. I so hope I didn't give it to my Mom (so far, so good) nor to the few people I did spend time with in the evenings. COVID-19 for me has meant three days of constant, uncontrollable coughing and very little sleep, followed by four days of occasional, uncontrollable coughing and very little sleep. And I'm soooo tired, both from the virus and from lack of sleep. No fever, no body aches, no headache - for that, I'm oh-so-grateful. But I lost an entire day - I have no memory of an entire day. That's so weird. 

I've been convalescing in the guest room, leaving it, while wearing a mask, to go to the bathroom and maybe pour myself a cup of coffee. Stefan has been wonderful, bringing me food, hot tea and Nyquil. 

So, a week later, I can finally write the blog I wanted to write. 

It's been a hard time back in the USA, as all my closest friends know and readers of this blog know. I've tried for years to find something that gives me the fulfillment of working in my chosen career, and is as consuming, but it hasn't worked out. I have tried to remake myself over and over to get a job. Nothing has worked. I've got so much to offer, and I long to learn and grow in that specific way you do when you're working - but every day I'm trying to accept that those days are over. 

I'm so lucky to love my husband even more than the day I married him, to have a home with a dog that brings me so much comfort. I'm so lucky to have a stable life. I also am lucky to have found some things that, for brief moments here and there, give me the uplifting feeling equal to what a career gave me: learning piano, practicing guitar, hiking somewhere beautiful, learning Spanish and riding my motorcycle. 

Two things happened when I was in Kentucky that I really want to remember forever, and that's why I wanted to blog about them. One of them was sharing my job frustrations with my mother, and for her to be incredibly understanding. My mother and I aren't close - we're just very different people. But I so deeply admire my mother for her career and the respect she commanded because of her work. She was a legal secretary and she had so many jobs over her long career. She had to constantly remake herself to keep working, and she had her biggest success at the end of her career, in her last job. 

In her 40s, after oh-so-many jobs, she became a deputy sheriff, handling the vast amounts of legal paperwork that came through the sheriff's office and sometimes even explaining the law to other deputies. Her last job was as the assistant to the head of the entire county, and her boss used to say she was the person really running things. She could navigate red tape like nothing I've ever seen. She knew how to outmaneuver almost anyone trying to do something to make the county or her boss look bad. Because she had had so many different jobs, she knows all of the lawyers and elected officials in the county - and beyond - and she knows their motivations, good and bad. She rose to every occasion her jobs threw at her. And when she retired, it was on her own terms, on her own time, and she was lauded. 

I got to see my Mom in every job she ever had - I even got to help in the office sometimes - and I would listen to her on the phone and watch her talking with others, including people who were quite hostile, and she was diplomatic when she needed to be and firm and even forceful when she needed to be. And to have this professional icon of mine offer real understanding of what I'm facing meant the world to me. It was a validation I was so hungry for. It won't change my unemployment status, but it was a confirmation about my skills and expertise and feeling that I really, really needed. 

That was one of the things I wanted to write about. The other one is about a compliment a friend gave me, out of the blue. She told me she was proud of me for traveling by motorcycle, for not just learning piano at 56 but posting videos of myself online, challenging everyone else to try something too, and for trying to learn Spanish. I almost started to cry into my burrito. It was a completely unsolicited remark. And it means the world to me. Thank you, Carol. You're pretty damn wonderful yourself. 

I'm going to keep trying. I hope you will too.