Thoughts on gender in language

In Spanish, there are masculine and feminine nouns. This does not mean that some people, places, and things are more masculine or more feminine than others. This dichotomy involves nouns preceded by the masculine article "el" (definitive) or "un" (non-definitive) and those preceded by the feminine "la"(definitive) or "una" (non-definitive).

For you jerks that think I'm a jerk for using words like definitive and non-definitive, here's a rundown: "el" and "la" translate to "the" most of the time, while "un" and "una" translate to "a" ("an" before a vowel sound!) most of the time. 

Anyway, this can be complicated for non-native Spanish learners, because it involves a lot of memorization. Usually, you can assume that a Spanish noun ending in "a" is feminine, and one ending in "o" or "e" is masculine. But there are exceptions, making it difficult to get it right every time. Plus, if your native language does not have gendered nouns, you're not used to making that distinction in the first place.

Here's where language can become a feminist issue, at least in places where gendered nouns are used (i.e. places with a romance language as its primary language). Take the example of a group of students: 3 ladies and a guy. A fifth friend strolls up, and says, "Hola, chicos." This friend uses the masculine form of the noun because there is at least one male present, even though the group is dominated by women. This is standard for plural nouns in Spanish.

In American English (can't really speak for anyone else, here), if I were that fifth friend, I would have said "Hey, guys" or "Hey, y'all" or literally "Hey, girls and boy." While the first option could be characterized as problematic in the same way that the Spanish salutation was problematic (remember, we're working with a feminist lens), it's not quite the same, is it? In fact, we often use the noun "guys" when addressing a group of girls in English. Still, I prefer "y'all" because, while it may be grammatically incorrect to some, at least it's gender-neutral. Yet, I'll admit that many would consider "guys" to be gender-neutral. See where this gets tricky?

Take another example of a group of 3 feminine-looking girls and an androgynous boy. An adult walks by, and says, "Hola, niñas" because she assumes they're all girls. Maybe these examples seem pointless, but I'm trying to compare how the Spanish and English languages handle these situations differently.

In this second example, a possible English translation would be "Hello, children." This would avoid misrepresenting any of the children, as "children" is a gender-neutral noun. The lack of gendered nouns, in this situation, seems favorable.

While it's difficult to overcome these issues in speaking, Spanish-speakers attempt to do so in writing. For example, a flyer might have "Bienvenid@s tod@s" (Welcome All), which simultaneously addresses both genders with the same noun. I've also seen "Bienvenidxs todxs."

English may not use gendered nouns, but language can still be a feminist issue. For example, in hypothetical or generic situations, where we use a situation or person as an example, we often use the masculine pronoun (his) when referring to this generic subject: When writing a resume, one should always list his most recent position first. 

Granted, this bias is more often seen in writing. Some writers try to overcome this issue by substituting "his" for "her," but some would argue that's not solving the problem at all. Others might just use the plural pronoun (their), but it's still awkward.

This is an example where Spanish is preferred because, for some reason, the pronouns are not gender specific. His, her, and their all translate to "su". Whadayaknow! Thus, in my translation work, I'm constantly faced with the decision of using "his" or "her" in my English translation because I don't have the author's original decision as a basis.

Another issue that's often associated with feminism is the use of different pejorative terms. Without diving too much into the concept of reclamation, I would like to compare some gender-specific curse words in Spanish and English.

It should also be noted that swearing is taken much more lightly here. Of course, you don't want to call your teacher or mother a bad word, but saying the equivalent of "gahd dammit" is not necessarily in bad taste.

Words like "bitch" or "cunt" are generally considered to be offensive. Sometimes, however, they are taken to be very hostile terms when perceived with a feminist lens. The argument? There's no equivalent for a guy. 

I would say "bitch" is used more often, and with less discretion. I think this is because we're conditioned to use "bitch" for girls that are out of line and "asshole" or "dick" for dudes that are out of line. We need a comparable term for each sex. 

However, "bitch" can also be used when someone just doesn't like what kind of girl you are (be that high-maintenance, tight with money, unwilling to fuck, etc.). In other words, I would say that "bitch" is thrown around more as a label than an insult, compared to "asshole" or "dick" anyway (there's that feminist lens, again). This can also be said for the word "slut".

In Spanish, the word "puta" (literally meaning prostitute) might be translated as one of the few female-specific insults I've mentioned. I would say that it can also have the same sting. For dudes, "hijo de puta" would be one of the worst insults, translating to "son of a bitch/whore." Keeping in mind that, like I said, Spanish-speakers use curse words more freely, these two words still raise eyebrows in conversation.

One Spanish insult I like is "cabrón" (meaning asshole, dick, etc.) because it has a feminine equivalent "cabrona." I think this is cool, because English-speakers might give you a weird look if you call a girl an asshole. But maybe she is. And maybe that's as insulting as I want to be.

Like the late great George Carlin once said, "These are the kind of things I think about when I'm sitting home alone and the power goes out." 

Well, this has been fun and all, but I'd really like to hear what y'all have to say. Even if all you want to do is call me a cunt.

Traveling with style

Have you ever purchased something, thinking it was really neat, and then never used it? That was me for about 2 years, up until San Fermín really. I mean, I used it maybe once or twice before that, but only recently did I discover how fucking GREAT the p-style really is.

Via www.thepstyle.com. Check it out and buy one online, or visit your local co-op/alternative 

storefront. I purchased mine at Mariposa Co-op in Philadelphia.

What the hell is a p-style you ask? Well, as you can see in the photo, it's a convenient little funnel that enables someone (like me!) without a penis to pee standing up.

And during a party like San Fermín, where the lines for the bathroom are miles long, and all the dudes pee in the streets anyway, it made my experience that much better.

Now, I carry it with me everywhere. Even when I'm in a bar, it serves in preventing me from having to actually sit on the piss-covered toilet.

An aside about toilets in bars in Pamplona: they suck. Many of them do not have toilet seats, and thus are uncomfortable and generally covered in pee. When you forget your p-style, you usually have to hover over the toilet, sometimes while also trying to keep the door shut because the lock is broken. I've asked myself a couple times, in that situation, if someone were to try to push open the door (because they're drunk and have to pee, not for any violent reasons), would I let them in to save myself from peeing all over my legs or would I do just that? And I decided that I would do the latter, just to prevent whoever from seeing me squatting over the toilet. Then I would go home because I have piss on my pants.

There are many FUNnel alternatives to the p-style. Rather than go on about them, I'll just give you the pros and cons of my model:

Pros: It's blue. And it's longer than other models I've seen so the pee stream runs away from my body and about six inches from my toes, unless I spread my legs a bit (which I've learned to do since getting sprayed a few times). I literally just unzip my pants, and stick it between my legs and pee on whatever wall or person I want to.

Con: There's only one. It's rigid plastic. I've seen others that are foldable, and thus easier to transport. But I think I'll eventually fix this problem by punching a hole in mine and putting it on my keychain.

I can't wait to take this newfound but long-time-coming habit back to the states. Forget holding it in on a car trip! Forget looking frantically for a place that's far enough away from peering eyes! Forget bushes and dumpsters! Forget toilet-hovering!

I've got it all now.

Educating kids in Spain, the American way

In many ways, I feel my primary and secondary school education was sheltered as far as content goes. I learned a lot about the merits of an American democracy, and very little about alternative governing styles. I had one geography class and one world history class throughout all my 12 years of institutional learning, the former when I was 13 and the latter when I was 17. I didn't even learn very much about modern American cities or the cultures within them, only the main industries of each region in the 19th century.

Granted, this perspective changes from person to person, from school district to school district. It's just, I distinctly remember my freshman year in college being extremely eye-opening. I only moved 300 miles east (approximately 500 kilometers) to Philadelphia, and yet it was a whole other world for me.

Three main factors that caused this shift:

1. I knew maybe two or three kids that lived there. They had graduated from my high school before me, and we had hung out a few times with mutual friends. However, they lived in a different neighborhood, 30 minutes away by bike. And they didn't go to my university, or any university for that matter. So, essentially, I was going to a school attended by more than 30,000 people I didn't know. I was kind of obligated to meet new people.

2. I really didn't know Pittsburgh that well, the closest city during my childhood. More about this here. And let's just say that my hometown's population is smaller than that of Temple's main campus. City congestion alone was enough to make my head spin.

3. I was finally on the east coast. I was among those from Boston, New York, and Washington. I was in a city that had ethnic neighborhoods! This diversity permeated my university classes as well: fellow students that had learned English as a second language, professors from all over the globe, and class discussions about poverty, globalization, and gender discrimination.

I quickly realized how closeted my education had been. I remembered fighting for the right to publish an article about teachers' lives outside of class in our school newspaper. And now, in college, I could write a column about vodka tampons.

Just as quickly, I accustomed myself to this kind of learning. And I let my learning leave the classroom, to infiltrate my life in bookstores, bike shops, Vagina Monologues rehearsals, and my kitchen. I had always had a lust for learning, but it was able to flourish in an urban and conflicted environment that was both progressive and archaic at the same time.

In short, I don't see this in my young English students here. Perhaps it truly is just a difference in personality or interests. I enjoy language, discussion, and revelation, while they enjoy Tuenti, soccer, and going to the pool.

Throughout this past month, in the many moments I wanted to roll my eyes and throw up my hands at one of my apathetic pupils, I tried to put myself in her shoes. I remember when my peers were so important to me. I remember texting under the desk during class, and dissing the teacher during lunch. Yet, I was still very studious. I always respected the teacher, at least to her face, and I took her criticism or discipline very seriously. So, sometimes, my students' shoes just didn't fit.

I also saw some of this indifference in my students' parents, and even in other teachers. I'll admit that I'm generally uninterested in whether my students want to learn English or not. I don't expect any passion. I just expect willingness to accept the nature of their education system. You do work, you get grades, and good grades allow you to pursue most any career you want. When I was younger, I did not find history or mathematics to be particularly riveting; but I was highly motivated by good grades. I tried hard despite my disinterest.

I keep coming back to that idea, though: the nature of their education system. When I reflect on what's expected of these kids, part of me wants to blame the class format and the pressure put on exams rather than their apathy toward learning.

For example, I taught a couple classes, to children between 12 and 16 years old, everyday in August. We spent five weeks together, working through a summer review textbook to prepare for an exam they all had in late August or early September. These children had all failed their English exams in May, and were forced to repeat, and pass, the exam or otherwise repeat the course. During class, these children were totally motivated by either the end of class, or the opportunity to talk to another classmate. When assigned work, they worked through it as quickly as possible, often without reading instructions or listening to directions. Afterward, I would correct their mistakes, and they would shake their heads up and down saying they understood, but all the while glancing at their peers and surely ignoring everything I said. At home, to study, they memorized correct answers and even essays. At first, I tried to show them revision and problem-solving methods. Then I realized they didn't care. They just wanted the right answers, so they could pass the exam, and move on. This is all they expect, and this is all that their parents and teachers expect.

Friends and Elliot have told me this extends to university courses. Professors may even deter questions as they "slow down" the class. Students are expected to attend class, listen to lectures, and study, only to be assessed at the end of the semester with a cumulative exam. This exam is all that matters. Afterward, you can forget everything. Empty your brain for the next cramming session.

The nature of the Spanish education system does not seem to facilitate critical analysis or peer-to-peer discussion. Students are encouraged to listen and absorb as much as possible. Whatever is left to learn can be obtained through memorization.

While my education lacked in content (many Spanish teens are learning two or more languages and taking multiple world history classes), I don't think it lacked in methodology. I graduated high school completely capable of writing analytic and persuasive papers, implementing constructive criticism, and managing my time (of course, you can't always ask this of a 12-year-old, but that's what parents are for).

Even after all this experience and reflection, and even some supportive statistics, I still can't help but think that these differences are not cultural or systemic, but rather individually influenced. I remember classmates who refused to follow teachers' advice, who seemed to coast through high school. I suppose one truth that I've found is that, despite individual personality or ambition, the Spanish education system has hardly facilitated my position as a teacher.

Bob Dylan in Spain

I was surprised when Elliot told me a few months ago that some Bob Dylan fan group wanted him to play at their annual celebration of Bob Dylan. He was playing on the street when a guy from this group asked him to come eat, drink, and play music -- probably playing a Bob Dylan song.

Elliot playing on the street in front of Paris 365 during San Fermín.

I'll say his name a fourth time: I just can't believe Bob Dylan has become an even larger part of my life. When I say this, I mean that I got into Dylan when I was young, and although I'm still fascinated by his lyricism and lifestyle, I don't expect this sentiment to grow. (Although I did kind of rediscover the album Desire this past fall.)

This group of Dylan heads, however, has let their love flourish for the guy. Many of them have seen him in concert 10 or more times. Some of them have taken Dylan-related trips to the US (specifically to New York City). They know every album, song, tour. Bona-fide, Pamplonian Bob Dylan fans.

A dedicated fan of the Dylan tribute band: Desolation Band. Check 'em out!

Anyway, Elliot's in a Bob Dylan tribute band now, and they're, well, somewhat successful. They've just started, but their first few concerts have been well-received, by friends and non-friends.

Desolation Band playing at Boulevard Jazz in Pamplona last Saturday.

Spaniards, and I guess you could say Europeans in general, love American and English classic/folk rock. Totally not uncommon to see people jammin' to a CCR hit, singing "Wonchou take a rride on de flyin' espoon!"

Kinda funny, ain't it?

Which vert are you?

I contemplate human behavior a lot, including my own. After reading "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking" I realized that this contemplative trait makes me an introvert. The book also provoked more contemplating, which I find interesting -- a book about introverts making me more introverted.

Anyway, it relates to my travels in 2 ways:

1. Traveling involves talking to strangers and moving out of your comfort zone. This can involve a lot of stress for an introvert.

2. The book pointed to the United States as the most extroverted country in the world, which I get. The author mentioned Europe as a sort of conglomerate. And she talked about introverts in Chinese communities in California, which I suppose was her representation of Eastern countries. Let's just say her cross-cultural analysis was not particularly awesome. I understand, after all, because you can't load your book with research (if it even exists) from every corner of the world. But it still left me with want to mull over what I see here in Spain. And maybe get some feedback!

The United States has an extroverted reputation because of its focus on speaking your mind, taking charge, and getting ahead -- that's in social circles, work environments, and educational expectations. However, I feel that we also harbor some pretty firm, albeit unwritten, rules regarding personal space. I find that people in Spain don't hesitate at all in approaching a friend, keeping their face very close when speaking to them, or touching them in a friendly way. The same behavior would be considered sort of invasive back home. 

Americans also have a custom of being unnecessarily polite. Not saying that people in Spain are rude, they're just honest. When friends here offer to buy me a beer, I used to say no at first: "No, no, I'll get one! Let me buy YOU a beer!" But they were always very persistent, and often won. Some even confronted me about trying to be polite. So I've learned just to say yes. Because they aren't offering me a beer out of politeness, they just want to buy me a beer. In the same way, people here are not hesitant to tell you if you're getting fat, if they don't like the food, or they despise the music. Not to be rude, just to be honest. On the other hand, the U.S. loves their white lies because they prevent potential conflict.

This brings me to a point that the author of "Quiet" was trying to make. She cited the following statistic a few times: studies show that 1 out of every 2 or 3 people is an introvert. So, while a country like the U.S. may highly value extroverts in many aspects of life, anywhere from 33% to 50% of us are introverted. In other words, we're pushing to raise children and young adults with spunk and pizazz, but some of us just don't have it in our genes. Perhaps our reputation doesn't really speak the truth.

I imagine this statistic can roughly be applied to the Spanish population as well. But I'll still echo that social customs here in Spain are particularly extroverted. So I'm not sure these labels mean the same universally.

Of course, another point that the author makes is that none of us are purely bred introverts or extroverts. We've all got a bit of both, some more than others. (Believe it or not, there is such a thing as an ambivert.) So my love for travel and seeing new places, despite also having a love for Saturday nights at home, makes sense.

Overall, the book was very enlightening, and relates to so many people: employers, employees, parents, teachers, lawyers, etc. (In other words, anybody who comes into contact with introverts, or is one.)

I mentioned feedback at the beginning of the post, and I mean it. Let me know what you think, what experiences you've had as an introvert or extrovert.

Religious influence in the free world

@ La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

I've had the same conversation a few times since arriving in Pamplona. Usually, this conversation becomes more of an argument, comparing a situation here to one in the United States. I suppose you could call the situation the religiousness of these countries. We start talking about the Catholic influence in Spain, particularly in Navarra, and then I suggest that this religious influence is different but just as strong (if not stronger) in the US, which invites a counter-argument.

Inside La Sagrada Familia

The thing is, no one ever seems to agree with me. You might say that our opinions are rooted in our differing nationalities. But Elliot especially disagrees with me. I probably argue with him more than anyone over this issue.

Mass in La Sagrada Familia

Their opinion: The church, specifically the Catholic church, is very much alive and powerful in Spain. In Navarra, for example, one can choose to give their tax money to the government -- funding public projects and amenities -- or to the church. It's just a matter of checking a different box on the tax form. The only private university in Navarra, and one of the best in the country, is operated by the Opus Dei. In short, the church has too much economical (and thus political) authority in Spanish society.

La Santa Maria de Montserrat, a monastery in Cataluña approximately 4000 ft. above sea level.

My opinion: The church, specifically Jesus, has a very devoted and determined following in the US. There are rights that some people do not have because of religious beliefs. The two big ones are the right to an abortion and the right to a same-sex union. In Spain, they have both! And they've had them for years! Sure, there are efforts to take away these rights, as there always will be, but they've got 'em. I would also like to add that puritanism (rooted in religion) still has a pretty strong sociocultural influence in the US. While it's hard to measure this influence, it's kind of like pornography in the way that you know puritanism when you see it. I'll leave it at that without rambling forever about the many boobs I've seen since arriving here.

Martin Harris Farm, once home to Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon church. The residents 

at the time (August 2010) wouldn't let 2 bike tourists camp on their grounds because they weren't 

members of the church. They did, however, give them apples and zucchini bread the next morning.

My argument may not be readily accepted for a couple reasons. Firstly, Catholicism in Spain is very unified. Contrarily, Catholicism in the US represents a minority, and several different other sects of Christianity are practiced throughout the country. Secondly, religious influence in Spain can be measured economically. As I said before, religious influence is more difficult to measure in the US. Perhaps we could measure it counting how many radical Christians have positions of authority.

It's difficult to be brief about something like this, but I tried my best. And I certainly welcome any comments to further the discussion.

La Sagrada Familia, as seen from Parc Guell. Can you say "massive structure in the name of God"?

Detoxing in more ways than one

In short, the past 5 weeks have been very busy.

In long, I made a lot of money (and spent a lot of money) in the past 5 weeks. The first part can be attributed to working 10-hour days of non-stop lesson-planning, document-translating, and bike-commuting. The second part can be attributed to Spain-traveling, beer-drinking, and rent-paying.

In the past 2 weeks. I climbed a mountain, reached two different bodies of salt water, and had wine poured on my head repeatedly. We had friends visiting, with as many as 6 sleeping in one room at any given time. We made food together, slept together, got drunk together (and thus had our hangover together). This can all be attributed to San Fermín (i.e. the Running of the Bulls).

Thus, my blog went on the backburner.

In many ways San Fermín was like...

a party, where there are endless friends, shenanigans, alcohol (well, not really endless alcohol), and shit on the floor.

a war, where every time you leave your house you have to be prepared for battle.

an apocalypse, where all the stores are shut down and the only ones that remain open are taking anything you have, and no one really cares what day or time it is.

a commune, where 13 people can peacefully share approximately 50 square meters and only one bathroom, even if they only just met each other.

a break, where I didn't have to think about work or checking my goddamn email.

Now, I'm on a different kind of vacation. There's no one in the house except the two of us, and a dog. And I will have very few classes this month. So I'll be at home, writing as much as I can.

At the Txupinazo in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento. See those blue signs in the back of the crowd? 

That's our building. We came downstairs about an hour before the rocket, and we still didn't get 

much further than 5 meters from our front door. (via eleconomista.es)