The Value of Being the “Other”
As citizens of the world we often find ourselves so immersed in the day to day functioning of our lives we often become like frogs: Deeply imbedded in our Eco system, effectively operating within our diaspora but vulnerable to any dramatic changes occurring upstream; potentially missing significant opportunities by not experiencing cultures, technologies or products that exist outside of our normal sphere; wildly insensitive to the perceptions our assumptions dictate. Our lives become narrow and often fearful as a result.
There is a profound value in stepping outside our normal patterns, taking the view of the raven, looking at things from an outsider’s point of view.
I was at dinner with delightful friends in Sarasota last night relating my time wandering the streets of Istanbul. Although the largest city in Europe, it was perceived by them as an exotic dangerous place. They are well educated and well traveled, although perhaps in a more guarded fashion then I choose. Assuming the headlines on CNN were the basis of this opinion I reflected that the general conditions in Istanbul couldn’t be further from the media’s portrayal. When my friends seemed aghast that I had traveled there completely solo I pointedly compared the murder and assault rates in Istanbul to say Baltimore or Miami and of course it is much lower.
I also explained to them that my appearance in the neighborhood I stayed in was so wildly out of place, I may as well be an ostrich. I was completely “the other” and that dramatic difference afforded me great safety.
I find the ideas that many Americans have about places like Istanbul are often neither accurate or helpful. And, the very act of allowing oneself to be “the other”, the outsider, that jogs the thought process allows a raven’s view with the intimate knowledge of the frog to initiate a more proactive thought process about people who may dress or think differently about things than is considered acceptable in Sarasota Florida.
I was unsettled by their anxiety on my behalf. Not because I feared for myself or them: they are incredibly lovely people, the world is their oyster. What concerned me was if their perceptions were that far from reality (shaped by our national narrative of fear) what must be the level of fear in the less traveled, the less educated?
