Lessons in Collectivism

Mentoring someone from a different culture has been quite a lesson in humility. I thought I understood privilege, but I still get taken off guard when my assumptions come back to kick me in the teeth. I've noticed it the most with my ideas around giving and possessions. When I give someone a gift, I expect that it will remain the property of the person I gave it to and that the person will treasure it as a token of my esteem and affection. Not necessarily so.

Look, I understand regifting and giving stuff to the thrift store if you hate it, if you really hate it, or it doesn't fit or something. For years, my grandma gave me frou-frou sweaters that were two sizes too small for me. Wishful thinking on her part--that I liked teddy bears and sequins on my clothes and that I would somehow magically be thin. So those went to Goodwill. But having your sister or your mom or your grandma just take the gift that was given to you and do with it what she pleases is absolutely foreign to me.

And I guess that's the essence of cultural misunderstanding and privilege, isn't it? I judge that behavior, and I want to intervene. My big-sister protective gene kicks in. Who takes a little kid's stuff anyway?

My sister Lindsey, wise person and counselor-in-training that she is, says, "They're collectivists." Of COURSE! How did I miss this? Me, who believes that socialist medicine can peacefully co-exist with capitalism. But my training is so strong, and my individualism so carefully maintained, that I needed someone with a different perspective to point out the flaw in my thinking. My mentee's mom had hinted that I was spoiling her daughter--apparently taking her to free craft classes, giving her a pumpkin at Halloween, and going out for chicken at Boston Market is a big deal. And giving her things? I think somehow that doesn't fit with their idea of what a mentor should be and do.

So I'm adjusting my thinking. Gifts should be for the whole family. Everything is considered community property. The pumpkin was turned into food rather than the jack-o-lantern I expected. A necklace that little one made with my expensive vintage beads was broken on the first day, and the beads were lost. A birthday gift card was appropriated. And this family gave up a whole room for a relative and his kids to live in for several months until he can move back to his country of origin. They took in a third dog and fostered him until they could find him a home. They eat dinner together around a big table in the kitchen.

I have much to learn.