Thursday, September 4, 2008

Pro-Choice?

If there's one thing most Americans have in abundance, it's choices.

There are major Decisions, like choosing a college, buying a house, and deciding where to spend Christmas.

But there are many little choices that we tend to overlook each day. We decide what to wear, which newspapers to follow, and what to do on the weekends. "What's for dinner?" is a legitimate question, as is "Where are you going?” We decide who our friends are, and what movies we want to go see.

At a whole other level of over-looked-and-taken-for-granted, we decide who to marry, and whether we want to stay married or file for divorce. (I don't think arranged marriage is quite so simple as a lack of choice. It's also about deeply ingrained cultural concepts of love. Maybe I'll talk about that another time.)

We have so many options, we even start looking for ways to limit them. "I hope I don't get both jobs," people say, "so I don't have to decide."

I certainly took these choices for granted before I came to Bangladesh. I never realized how meaningful "choice" is! Its obvious that people here, and in many other parts of the world, just don't have the luxury of making decisions that we make every day in America.

Choice isn't necessarily always a good thing, or always a bad thing. Take food, for example. All cultures have their own "cuisines" for a reason: it’s the easiest, cheapest way to get the main nutrients everyone needs, using only local flora and fauna. So that is what everyone eats, every day. Rice and Curry, Rice with Curry, Rice on Curry. I look through the shops here, and mentally compare them to the ones at home. Even in the nicest stores, the vegetable section is more like a "corner", and put together, the shelves equal maybe one long aisle at Wegman's. But who needs 52 kinds of cereal? What rationale justifies picking the "ultra-heavy-duty" paper towels versus the "super-ultra absorbent" roll? How do we even decide?!

Some books and movies are banned (I hope to read The Satanic Verses while I'm here-- how often does one get the chance to read a banned book, in a country where it actually, currently is?), and the media is censored. I recently heard of someone buying an issue of the Economist, only to realize that certain articles about Bangladesh were torn out. Reporters Without Borders' Worldwide Press Freedom Index ranks Bangladesh at 134 out of 169 countries.

There aren't too many clothing choices here, either, if you're a woman. It’s important to wear loose, baggy clothing, and be covered. Rules out most Western fashions.

In Bangladesh, if you're a woman, your friends are your sisters and your cousins; you don't see anyone who is not family. Women don't leave the house. The main reason people leave the house is for work. A wife or daughter outside the house is an indication to the world that your family is poor and desperate, I'm told.

Short-changing of women is the common theme, eh? And I'm not even touching the dowry, or arranged marriage.

Why do we have so many choices in America? How do we explain this difference between America and the majority of the world? Americans are well-equipped with a quick response. "Freedom! Freedom of choice! It's what our country is built on!" We can't tell you why it is good or bad (or why there are certain things it doesn't apply to). But we know we have it, we fought for it, and we aren't letting go of it.

Choice, it seems, is deeply embedded in our national psyche. Or is it?

I discussed the Gender-Related Development Index today with some students. The U.S. ranks at number 12. In what direction do we want to slide?

Trying to be subtle. Welcome, Sarah Palin.

2 comments:

  1. I don't understand "Trying to be subtle. Welcome, Sarah Palin."

    What do you mean? Explain Cindy, explain!

    -friend

    ReplyDelete
  2. Choices, yes we have too many choices. Sometimes I buy the wrong thing because I get confused with all the choices. I am glad though, that I got to choose to remain single and that I can go outside and work and play. Sure does make me appreciate my life...Hugs, Aunt Jean

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