The relative perception of thanks
On NPR’s Hidden Brain, I recently heard a psychologist talk about how emotions differ between cultures. What we in the USA perceive as shame, gratitude, or sorrow is not necessarily how the emotion is regarded, or even felt, by people in another culture.
The psychologist is from the Netherlands, married to an American, and perfectly fluent in English. She says bilingual people generally prefer to swear or profess endearments in their native tongue, and she, herself, is apt to experience emotions as they’d be in her culture of origin.
She told the story of when her husband brought her a cup of coffee and expected a “thank you” that she did not offer. Her husband asked, “Don’t I get a thank you?” She was confused and replied, “But you’re my husband.” In her culture a thank you was inappropriate. They were too close. Thank yous were reserved for relationships farther removed neighbors or co-workers.
If these two people, who presumably love each other and have a degree of tolerance for one another’s missteps, struggle over when to say, “thank you,” it’s clear that most of us will sometimes grossly misinterpret behaviors of people from other cultures.
Case in point (I think): Once, when I worked in an office, I had two office chairs—one that I really liked, and one that was inferior. A co-worker from another office —and from a nation on the other side of the planet—had no chair at all. I offered her one of mine.
She came to get the chair on a day I was absent. My office mates, voices dripping with disdain, told me how they tried to protect my favored chair, explaining my preference for it to the non-native co-worker. Apparently she acknowledged it was the better chair— and took it.
I was, indeed, miffed. But simultaneously I suspected there were some cultural wires crossed that made the co-worker’s behavior appear selfish. And perhaps she perceived the office mates’ insistence that she take the lesser chair as gross selfishness. And when I later traded chairs (my old arthritic back really needed the good chair), she likely thought me grossly rude as well. I still don’t know.
But I do know that we are generally presumptuous about how people should act or feel based on our own cultural norms. It’s difficult not to be. So, upon hearing the Hidden Brain program, I vowed to pay attention to my presumptions.
On an evening stroll with my dog, I encountered a couple I have seen before but don’t know well. I’ve had short neighborly conversations with the man but have never spoken to the woman. I’ve rarely seen her. The man greeted me with friendly small talk. The woman said nothing. I thought the look on her face to be sour. Clearly, she didn’t like me. What did I do? Is she jealous that I talk with her husband? Does she not approve of the raggedy clothes I’m wearing because I’ve been painting all day and didn’t get dressed appropriately for the dog walk?
Hold up, self! Maybe this woman is extremely shy. Maybe she registers on the Autism Spectrum and doesn’t do well with small talk. Maybe she is from a totally different culture.
When I actively considered these possibilities, my perceptions changed. I no longer felt judged. My tolerance rekindled. Perhaps if we could all remember that people don’t necessarily think—or feel—just like we do, we’d cut folks more slack. Imagining everybody is from another culture could be the key.