What really matters?

Several years ago, I took a class at St. Edward’s University called “Cultural Geography.” I wasn’t exactly sure what it was about when I signed up for it – but I like culture and I like geography, so I figured if you stuck the two of those together, it might be interesting. One of the first days we were in class, our professor passed around a little anecdote and asked us all to read it. It supposedly described the practices of a distant tribe of people on a different continent, who had an unusual “coming of age” practice. When a child in the tribe reached the age of 16, they were given the responsibility of acting as caretaker for a very dangerous animal. The tribe had been keeping these animals for generations, and while they could be hardworking, useful creatures, they also had the unfortunate tendency to lose their tempers now and then. The young members of the tribe were instructed on care and feeding, and were taught how to manage these animals. They were also shown the best ways to prevent dangerous incidents with the large, difficult-to-control beasts. But for all the precautions that were taken, members of the tribe – young and old – lost their lives every year to misbehaving animals. And although these animals were unpredictable, and could be lethal, the tribe refused any suggestion that they should remove them from their lifestyle. It was their tradition, and – dangerous or not – it would continue.

When we were finished reading this little blurb, the professor asked how many of us in the class would like to be responsible for one of these dangerous animals. The only people who raised their hands were me and the guy sitting right in front of me. It may already be obvious what the “dangerous animal” is, but in case it’s still not clear, I should mention that the name of this animal is a “rac.” Now, when I was reading the anecdote, it took me about a sentence and a half to realize that “rac” is “car” spelled backwards. It wasn’t about a distant tribe in some faraway country – it was about us, right here, right now. The point, of course, was to show that our perceptions of “culture” and “tradition” can be skewed depending on what part of the world we assume we’re talking about. Sure, here in America, it’s perfectly acceptable to hand a 16-year-old the keys to a car, but if we were talking about some kid in East Timor riding a giant, angry yak to school, well that would be totally different, right?

(And on a side note – after that, any time our professor would ask us to “pair up” or get into a small group with other students for a project, me and that guy in front of me would always make sure we were in the same group. I mean, really, how hard is it to figure out that “rac” is car spelled backwards?? Everyone in that class should’ve had their hands raised…)

But the part of the class I found most interesting, and still think about today (besides the sort of über-sensitivity toward other cultures I seemed to develop… don’t offend anyone… don’t offend anyone…) was our discussion on “race.” I touched on this in that silly little survey the other day, after the question about interracial relationships. What’s funny is that there really aren’t different “races” of human beings. You’re either human or you’re not. There are many anthropologists who believe the whole idea of “race” should be given up, anyway. Human beings are far more similar than they are different, and our perceptions of “race” are merely insignificant differences in appearance, coupled with social and cultural traditions. To me, these things are so infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, that “race” ends up meaning nothing very important.

Think about it - you could take any baby from anywhere in the world, transplant him/her to any other part of the world, and that child will grow up acting/talking/dressing like the people he or she is around most of the time. It wouldn't matter what color anyone's skin happened to be, it wouldn't matter what "race" they belonged to. It's not a "black" thing, or a "white" thing, or an "Asian" thing or whatever other kind of "thing" you might want to label it. It's just adaptation to the socitey you happen to be in. "Race" has nothing to do with it...

And where would you draw the line, anyway? If we consider skin color a factor of “race,” then what does it mean that I can never get a decent tan? Does that make me “whiter” than other white people? Am I a member of some sort of mega-white race? What about people who live in Istanbul? What if a girl from the European side of Istanbul fell in love with a guy on the Asian side of Istanbul? Would that be considered an interracial relationship? Are they two different “races” because one is European and one is Asian?? Or do we make an “exception” in that case? And if we make an exception in THAT case, what other cases might we make exceptions for? If you really start to think about this stuff, the whole “racial” question becomes much less “black” and “white,” and much more a big, murky conglomeration of colors and cultures and differences and similarities and love and laughter and happiness and sadness and wishes and worries…

What it all boils down to is, I’m just Lisa, and that’s it. And you’re whoever YOU are, and I really couldn’t care less what “race” that happens to be. Just don’t ever ask me to be responsible for your rac… those things are dangerous...