Rosalie CP #8: A Celebration of Women and Girls in Tallahassee

September 27, 2013

            The Oasis Center for Women and Girls has been an important part of my life. My first job was being a camp counselor at their annual summer camp, Girls Can Do Anything. I really believe in their mission of empowering women and girls in our community. My mother is a founding member of the center, and she regularly supports their efforts. This year, she helped sponsor the 4^th Annual Celebration of Women and Girls that benefits both Oasis and another program to help girls in Tallahassee, the PACE Center. She received several tickets to the event but was out of town that weekend. “Why don’t you invite your conversation partners?” she asked me. So I did.

            Isabella was out of town, but both Luis and Mehmas accompanied me to the celebration. It took place in the TCC auditorium, and we had a bit of an adventure finding it. I’m sure the guys were a little overwhelmed by the crowd of people. I helped them get food from the buffet as much as I could, but they were disinclined to be pushy or wait for a while. “I’m okay!” Mehmas assured me with only pasta salad and bean dip on his plate. “I will go sit.”

            I turned to see him sitting next to an elderly man and quickly engaging him in friendly conversation. I was impressed. Luis and I joined them, and the man asked them how they liked their studies, the US, etc. I noticed that Mehmas seemed really quiet and perhaps uncomfortable. It made me think of how difficult small talk with strangers is in your own language, much less your second one!

            Later, we were all chatting with a young Cuban man who works with a charity for the homeless. He and Luis bonded over being Spanish-speakers, and I felt confident leaving them for a minute while I found another friend I had invited. When I wandered back over, Mehmas asked me, “Can I leave?”

            I was confused. “Leave? Go?” I asked him.

            “Like go in there,” he said, pointing towards the auditorium.

            “Oh! Of course,” I told him.

            “Can I just go, or do I say to him” (the Cuban guy), “’I need to go’?” he wanted to know.

            I glanced over at the Cuban guy who was now involved in a conversation with someone else. I guess I could have told Mehmas that he could just leave, but instead I told him, “No, you definitely can’t say you need to leave! That sounds very urgent. You should say, ‘It was so nice to meet you. I’m going to head into the auditorium now.’”

            “I can’t say I need to go?” Mehmas asked me, dismayed.

            “No, you can’t,” I reiterated. He practiced saying it once to me before going over to the man he had met. He came back quickly.

            “Can we go now?” he wanted to know. I empathize with him; once you make your goodbye, it is awkward to hang around.

            “Of course,” I smiled at him. We collected Luis and walked into the auditorium. On the way, I asked them, “So where are we going? What is this place called?” and they repeated the new word.

            Sitting in the darkened auditorium, watching local female performers, was a unique experience because I was acutely aware that my two conversation partners were there, too. I tried to see everything through their eyes and wondered if they understood what was happening (what the songs were about, or the skit or the reading). I had to let go (worrying does no good) and just enjoy the night. There was some real talent on the stage, and not all was verbal. There were opera singers, tap dancers, and a drummer as well, so language was not always critical.

            In the car ride home, I asked them what they liked best. Luis liked the opera singers (“I wish they had sung more!”), and Mehmas said he liked the tap dancing. I told them I loved the spoken word at the end and how strong the adolescents were to put themselves out there.

            After we dropped Mehmas off, Luis turned to me. “I think Mehmas had a culture shock!”

            “Really?” I asked. “How can you tell?”

            “Well, didn’t you notice he seemed strange? Like really quiet? And you know his culture is so different. He must not be used to feminism, and the performances were about women being strong,” he noted.

            I was more concerned about Mehmas than Luis, it was true, but I didn’t really notice him being markedly different. However, Luis has spent more time with Mehmas as well as his friends.

            “The Kuwaitis try to be more open when they are in American culture, but I’ve noticed that some Kuwaitis disrespect women sometimes,” he said. “Mehmas is one of the more liberal ones. He tries to have an open mind. I think he was so quiet because he wanted to be respectful.”

            I was filled with concern and respect for Mehmas. The equivalent to what he just went through for me, I think, would be some kind of cultural display about the inequality of the genders. I thought of myself, being a good guest and smiling while feeling like everything was wrong inside. He is a strong person to have gone to this event and conducted himself so politely without a fault. I admire him. I’m not sure that I could have been so graceful. I wanted to ask Mehmas how he felt about the event, but I don’t know that I’m the right person to do so.