A Few Culture Issues

(I) Last night, E and I went to my brother’s house to celebrate his son’s second birthday. I was not a happy camper because E refused to join us for dinner. We weren’t eating anything unusual, and although he’d eaten a banana and creampuff on the way to the house, I didn’t believe he could be that full. Instead of joining the grownups, he played with the three-and-under crowd.

The birthday boy definitely enjoyed the attention and piled all his gifts on E’s lap before joining him to play airplane and fire truck. Although my heart was softened by the interaction, I was still really irritated about dinner.

When we got home, I asked E about his behavior. He confessed that he’s still terrified to speak with my family. He is so afraid that he’ll make a mistake and offend someone unintentionally that he’d rather not even try. I can understand the fear, but it makes me sad because his English is really nice. He relaxes around the kids, and my 10-year-old niece knows he’s a hoot, but I wish my entire family could see that.

(II) Moving to the US has had some positive (and some negative, I’m sure) effects on our relationship. In Turkey, because of cultural restrictions, I couldn’t go anywhere alone. And going out with E was always very stressful for him. Whether it was in Erzurum or his hometown, my appearance always attracted unwanted attention. Everyone wanted to stare at the albino lady, especially men, and many people had very unflattering things to say about me or inappropriate offers to make me—even when I was with my husband. E was always on edge and ready to defend his wife’s honor.

That just doesn’t happen here. No one looks at me or hits on me, and E feels much more relaxed. I am free, culturally, to go anywhere on my own, so I feel much more relaxed as well. We both enjoy the freedom.

E, however, is still a Turk and has his own cultural and religious viewpoints. He’s really struggling with the fact that I have a male doctor. Culturally, no other man should ever see that “special” area of his wife’s body—even a doctor. Apparently, although Turkish women have male OBGYNs, when it comes to actual delivery, a female always takes over. I’ve explained many times that because of insurance and access, I literally could not find a female doctor, but it does not reduce his anxiety.

I went to the doctor today to have my routine strep test done (something I had never heard of before). Although E came with me to the doctor’s office, he stayed in the waiting room the entire time. Apparently, he can handle another man looking at me as long as he’s not in the same room. However, this does not bode well when it comes to delivery. I have him convinced to stay with me until the very end, when the doctor arrives. But what will happen then? Will he be so swept up in the moment that he’ll stay? Will my tears, pain, and anger be enough to guilt him into staying? Will I end up delivering alone?

(III) I moved back to the US with a huge To Do List. On that list? Change my last name. Needless to say, I just haven’t gotten around to it. Life is much easier with a pronounceable last name (How many times will I have to say, “The ‘c’ is a ‘j,’ and the ‘ı’ just doesn’t exist”?).

I’ve noticed recently, though, that the last name issue is starting to irritate my husband. I need to remember to use the B-name, instead of the F-name, whenever I’m in a situation that doesn’t require official documentation (like the car seat check last week). I also need to be sure that our baby is listed as Baby Boy B at the hospital and not Baby Boy F. Such responsibility!