On Cultural Sensitivity

There are a lot things I could do here that are are not unsafe, per se, but are culturally insensitive.

Take, for example, clothes. Wearing shorts is the equivalent of going topless in the States. A sleeveless shirt equals the two inches of sequined thong that sprout from ultra-low riding jeans. The entire stomach seems absorbed under the heading of cleavage, which one might argue does not exist here, as its very definition hinges on the tease of partial exposure.

There are expats who flout the rules, but I don't. The clothes are comfortable, they seem less unflattering in context, and I am a visitor here; dressing appropriately seems an easy and essential gesture of respect. Looking more deeply, it is true that clothing restrictions, which apply disproportionately to women, make getting dressed a daily reminder of the grim status of women here. But clothes seem an inconsequential concern -- at least, when they are not imbued with metaphor -- compared to the widely held contention that women should not leave the house. At all. And if, for some reason, that need arises, a man from their family must accompany them.

This is where I begin to encounter a deep and irreconcilable tension between Me and Pakistan. The idea that I can't or shouldn't go out by myself is, provided I'm not endangering myself, a rule I'm increasingly unwilling to follow. On one level, my defiance is selfish. Depending on someone else to exit these four walls has a soul-destroying, spirit-shattering quality. After 24 hours, I am inflamed with rage, and after 48 hours, I'm in full meltdown mode. The problem is not so much being in the house as it is not being able to leave.

But beyond my own paltry coping mechanisms, I am just beginning, as I grasp the cultural lay of the land, to feel comfortable saying out loud, in this public forum, that the rule that women should stay confined to the house is one that does not merit my cultural sensitivity. I find the rule morally abhorrent, and I gasp at its inhumanity and its implications for society as a whole the more I observe its practice. I am feeling uneasy, writing this paragraph, as I am doing everything I'm not supposed to do -- imposing my Western framework on Pakistan, judging a culture I don't yet understand, isolating one aspect of a social structure and analyzing it out of context, and just generally being righteous, which is unbecoming. And yet, to delete this would be to lie.

And so yesterday, around hour 36 of captivity, I went for a walk with only the accompaniment of three dogs (no, I did not adopt another dog -- we're dogsitting). Yes, yes, yes, it was completely safe. Please do not worry. But everyone stared at me for what I suspect was an array of reasons ranging from benign curiosity to lechery (there is a widespread perception that Western women are very promiscuous, and walking by myself basically sends the message I am a prostitute) to offended disapproval. None of it was threatening, and so, for the first time since I've been here, I just really didn't fucking care what anyone else thought. I cared less, maybe, about what anyone else thought than I ever have in my life.

I sense this must mean something, finding these internal trip wires, these limits. I felt like I was commiting an initial act of self-assertion in a place I have felt, to varying degrees, unsettled and disoriented.