Race and Sex, Abroad

Turkish Woman at the Berlin MarketTo preface this post, I’d like to say that I initially planned on only writing reviews of restaurants and bars for my open posts while I was abroad. I don’t like to give the impression that I’m strictly involved in academics. In fact, I cherish my social life much more than my academic life. Adjusting, then, to a new social climate (amongst a compendium of other new climates) has been the main source of my frustrations thusfar abroad, not to mention a main source of annoyingly late blog entries and my entire lack of comments on everyone else’s blog. That said, I’d much rather make this blog post particularly academic to make up for lost time spent in academia and as an attempt to organize my thoughts about the deviant identities I so wish to study while here. And, as I’ve already started to organize some notes on a few of my favorite places in Berlin, I will definitely put up some extra “free posts” on my own time to let everyone know what an amazing city this is!

So, I’d like to start with language and gender and move on to race and place. So, language here, as I’m beginning to understand, is entirely gender-based. It’s nearly impossible to say anything, from an adjective, noun, name, or sentence without it being entirely codified by gender. I studied Spanish for a long time, and as I understood Spanish and all other Romance languages, gender was key. However, in English, we do not have such strictly gendered language, and for whatever reason, I was quite convinced that it had to do with our language’s Germanic roots. Though, I can quite clearly see that this apparently isn’t the case in the German language. It isn’t the nouns being gendered that bothers me, though, so much as it is the names. We were made to say each other’s names in class predicated by a definitive masculine or feminine article, and later with proper terms for greeting. Therefore, made to make assumptions based on what are apparently accepted as universal cues for gendering. This was so frustrating, but I’m sure less so for me than for trans- or gender-queer people of Germany. I didn’t know what to do accept ask that before any more assumptions were made that we all designate which sex or gender we’d like to identify with before continuing the “game.” Then, it is thus proven once more that the school-house is one of the primary institutions of gendering. But, this rant does not cease there, for it is also apparently easier for men to become “du” rather than “sie” to each other, that is, move to informal titles of friendship, and it is even more rigidly guarded for women and men to not so easily become “du” without there being some type of romance implied. I find that most of my friends are women, but will it really take much longer, more confidence, more assurance to be able to speak to them as such here? It seems like it’s a dilemma that should focus more on the flexibility and instability of a language, much like English has, to appropriately enter the 21st Century.

As for race relations in Germany, what I’ve noticed has a lot to do with where I live: Kreutzberg or “Little Istanbul,” as it is colloquially known here. Yes, the Turkish population is very large and seemingly very traditional, the men and boys greet us very nicely upon entering any shop or restaurant and the women and girls generally are found elsewhere, quietly cooking or cleaning something, smiling if they happen to make eye-contact with a Westerner. Try as I may, it seems impossible to talk about “encountering” a different people, quickly being made into a different race, without talking about the adapted gender roles that come with immigration. But, then, on the other hand, walking through the Turkish market (a huge fresh produce open-air market that takes place a few blocks away from our dorms every Tuesday and Friday), the gender roles seem to disappear. Everyone is comfortable and happy to deal with one another. Westerner/Whites, from what I can tell, are treated with a level of disregard that anyone might expect from an open-air market. I try to imagine these people imagining themselves back at home, asking or telling, “Buy or leave. You buy, I smile. You leave, I smile at someone else.” Of course, this might just be me romanticizing the immigrant experience, making it seem as though thinking back and imagining someone’s life before they migrated is even conceivable. Perhaps, then, things seem more relaxed and, dare I say, authentic here simply because of the commonality of culture that people share. They, in some way, are allowed to expect what they might expect at home because there are so many people there that seem to have grown up with the same, basic cultural principles in line. I really, really love living in this neighborhood and just being allowed to observe the immigrant experience in a different country.