"Wow, You Were Fat!": A Culture Study, Part Two

When I first moved to the Dominican Republic a few things happened almost immediately:

1. The small stock of Easter candy we had brought with us ran out, and I sorely regretted not shoving more bags of Cadbury Mini Eggs in my carry-on suitcase.
2. Goats officially beat out dolphins as my favorite animal.
3. I dropped about twenty pounds. (Impressed? My secret is a simple little formula: No Easter candy + several bouts of diarrhea=a new, skinny you!)

My mom brought her digital picture frame along with us, and our friends (once we made some) loved to watch the slideshow of pictures and see our family and friends back in the States, as well as my parents and me before we moved to the DR. And because of item number three listed above, their reaction to a picture of me was always, always the same—“Wow, you were fat!” 

They thought it was the funniest thing, and they never hesitated to point out my past chunkiness. Just like in my first post about Dominican culture, this might sound like an inappropriate thing to say, especially if you don’t know someone very well. But around here that’s the normal conversation. Comments that might get you slapped in the States just get a couple of chuckles here, if any reaction at all. 

Here’s the basic lesson for Americans in this post: don’t allow yourself to be easily offended when you come to the DR. People will say things that sound insulting, but that’s just the way their culture is. 

People usually don’t mean it in an offensive way, either. If someone needs to get the attention of a heavyset boy, they might call out, “Hey, Chubby!” When I first heard that I was mortified. I scolded the person who had called out, saying it was offensive and disrespectful. The guy showed me the boy who had walked up. He pointed to his belly, and, as a justification for his words, said to me, “Look, he’s chubby. So I called him Chubby.” 

…

Well, I certainly couldn’t argue with his logic. But for the first year or so that I lived here I tried to argue against his manners. I thought I was on some great crusade against rudeness. Every day I would remind people to say please and thank you, and I would rebuke everyone who addressed someone as “Fatty,” “Chubby,” or “Ugly.” Sometimes people would call out, “Hey, pregnant lady!” Or, if they weren’t sure if she was pregnant or not, they would carry on a loud conversation about her until the mystery of is-she-pregnant-or-just-shaped-weird was solved.

It isn't just directed at other people. My family gets our fair share of comments. Every time a friend of ours thinks that my dad’s hair is getting too long he will say, “Martin, barber shop,” every day until my dad goes to get his hair cut. That same friend once told me that I would never win a Miss America pageant. I didn’t ask which category I was falling short in; I didn’t really want to know. 

Believe it or not, I actually made some progress with my Polite Crusade. The employees of our ministry now almost always say please and thank you, and they address people in a more respectful (in my eyes) way. But after a while I realized that the person who was most offended by everyone’s comments was, well, me. And if I, the outsider, am the only person who has a problem with it, why am I fighting so hard against it? Maybe I should try embracing it for a while.

Don’t mistake this attitude with complacency. I won’t just sit back and allow the children and other people around me to be horrible to each other or to me. Neither, though, will I try to change them to treat each other in a more “American” way, because frankly, I don’t think we have it right either. The way I see it, the Dominican and the U.S. are on opposite ends of a spectrum, when really everyone should be in the middle. In the Dominican harsh words and insults are perfectly acceptable. You can comment on someone’s weight, facial features, personality, with no problem. Just last night at a church service a girl came up to me and told me I should have fixed my hair before showing up (thank you, friend, for the beauty tips). In the United States, on the other hand, you can’t say anything anymore without someone jumping on you for being offensive. People are getting in big trouble for the things they say, and now many people are afraid to say anything. That’s no way to interact with others. 

Instead, I will take the best of both cultures and use it to change the way I interact with the people around me. My American-ness will always stick with me; I will probably never be able to address someone as “Chubby,” and that’s not a bad thing. But my impeccable American manners have changed a bit. Remember what I said in my post last week about everyone living interdependently and helping each other out? I would say thank you every single time someone would do something to help me (which is a lot). One evening after thanking my friend Negra for what was probably the hundredth time for helping me wash the dishes, sweep the floor, cook the food, etc., she turned to me and said. “You know, now that we know each other well you don’t have to say thank you anymore.” Every time I would say thank you after that she would give me a look that made me bite my tongue. Now I hardly ever say thank you to her. At first it felt rude; she helps me so much and I want her to know I appreciate it! But after a while it kind of feels even better to not say thank you. We know each other well enough to appreciate each other and be thankful for what the other does without ever saying anything. It feels like a new step of friendship. Maybe I’m overanalyzing a simple “thank you,” but maybe what we say or don’t say really does matter.

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, people do still let me know if I have put on a few pounds. It happened just last week. Who needs a scale to keep track of your weight when you have your neighbors!?