Growing Up Cross Cultural
by Paul Stinebiser
The LORD said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.” So the LORD scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel -because there the LORD confused the language of the whole world. From there the LORD scattered them over the face of the whole earth.
What an incredible, beautiful, wonderfully diverse world God has created for us; one human species, three (or four) primary people groups spread out over seven continents, eight inhabited geographic regions, a half-dozen or more world civilizations (depending on the scholar you ask), 195 countries (recognized by the United Nations)…and CULTURES…cultures and subsets of cultures too numerous to count.
Given the perfect hierarchy listed above we can deduce that if you are reading this article, written in English for Bible + Pop Culture magazine, in the comfort of your North American dwelling, you are a White, Black, or Asian American citizen sharing Christian beliefs of Western Civilization.
Oh, and human, you’re probably human.
Of course, we know this is a complete generalization with near 100% certainty that it will break down with statistical data as low as one. It’s much more complicated than that, isn’t it? We know this, but still, we so often fall into the trap of generalization, categorization, and dare I say, discrimination. No, no…discrimination certainly exists, but it’s an extreme word for the point I’m trying to make. But stereotypization isn’t a word. Roll with it, OK?
I want to conduct a small experiment…very scientific. Look DEEEEEPPP into these eyes, and repeat after me… I’m just kidding, but please, look at these eyes for a few seconds, then continue reading.
Eyes (2019). Image courtesy of Gulf Reflections Studios, Inc.
Complete the picture of this person in your head.
What does this man look like?
What clothes is he wearing?
What might his hairstyle be?
In what country was he born?
You might be fighting it because you are now conscious of it. You may not want to generalize or stereotype, but it’s alright, and chances are you had little difficulty painting a picture in your mind once you allowed yourself to do it.
Next, read the following list of surnames, pause after each name, and create your mental image of what that person might look like:
O’Sullivan, Abdallah, Xi, Friedman, Steinbeisser, Smith, Kobayashi, Martinez.
Lastly, pick from the list of names that belong to the man whose eyes are pictured. To quote John Lennon, “…it’s easy if you try.”
You’ve probably caught on where I’m going with this. My name is Paul Stinebiser (Steinbeisser is the original German spelling), the eyes in the picture are mine, and to also partially quote Steve Martin, “I was born a” …little white boy. Yes, my eyes are Asian. My mother is Korean, but my father is of German ancestry, and I was born in a small town outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, over a half-century ago.
I went to Catholic school, I was an altar boy, I played football and baseball, and I recited the Pledge of Allegiance daily. I tend to believe that my culture pushes that 50/50 mix to at least 51/49 Caucasian/Asian, but society’s initial perception is nearly always 0/100. I’ve always believed my culture defines me, not the shape of my eyes.
But what is my culture? What is your culture? What this heck is culture anyway for Pete’s sake, and who the heck is Pete?
The generally accepted definition of culture is a shared way of life that encompasses behaviors, beliefs, values, religion, history, and language. It probably also includes the types of food we eat, social norms, sports, music and art, fashion, and the list goes on. That is such a broad description.
Where do we draw lines? Does the north share culture with the south? Do Whites share culture with Blacks? Do Blacks share culture with Asians? Does Glenbrook North High School share culture with Rydell High?
Culture is a very convoluted concept more akin to gerrymandering than a city grid. It can be difficult to navigate and darn near impossible to navigate without offending someone.
As complicated as defining culture is, communicating across cultures can pose even bigger challenges. The mere topic will almost certainly ignite accusations of political correctness and over-sensitivity against opponents believing they hold the deed to the bunker perched atop the moral high ground.
The amusing part for me, as someone that dealt with the realities of racism and discrimination because of how I looked, and as someone that was bullied daily as a child (we called it teasing), I never asked anyone to pick up that mantle for me. I look back, and I’m fond of it. It makes me smile. I don’t hate anyone for it; I don’t blame anyone because of it. Every kung fu joke, every chant of, “Chinese, Japanese, dirty knees, what are these?” (with accompanying hand gestures) laid another brick in the impenetrable barrier I built around my sensitivities. It made me strong and resilient.
Ella and Dayna (2020). Image courtesy of the Stinebiser family.
This is not to say I’m apathetic towards racism and bigotry. I married a woman from Hawaii with Japanese ancestry. I have a thirteen-year-old 100% Asian looking daughter that I am very, if not overtly, sensitive to in regards to bullying and teasing. Like me, at that age, she has the Asian look but knows nothing of Asian culture. Fortunately for her, my wife, and me, we haven’t seen nor experienced any overt racism. Sure, we could find it if we looked hard enough, but racism born out of hatred tends to boil to the top, and we don’t experience that.
Recently a man said he wanted to work with me professionally because “Asians are smart.” I took it as a compliment. Besides, the joke’s on him. He thinks I’m smarter than I know I am. Sure, that’s a stereotype, and only by being a complete knucklehead might I change his perception (forgive me if I don’t get right on that). I recognize those stereotypes may not always work to my advantage, but in a world of nearly eight billion people, why would I let the opinion of any one person bother me?
Perhaps these are different times, but I definitely believe we have grown as a society, and I don’t view America or Americans as inherently racist. I do, however, regularly talk to my daughter about racism, about culture, about looking different, and how other people may view her differently even though they share the same culture. That’s OK. She is different, God made her different, and she should wear that like a badge of honor. Fortunately for her, she will benefit from a lifetime of lessons I have learned.
La Novia (circa 1962). Image courtesy of the Stinebiser family.
It took me many years, however, to reach a level of confidence and self-assurance. It probably wasn’t until I joined the Air Force, and in 1992 took an assignment to Korea that I truly began to appreciate my Asian heritage. I suddenly began to understand my mother more, her behaviors, her tendencies, her methods, her temper! Still, though I had the look, I wasn’t Korean.
Then in 1997, I was blessed with an assignment to Hickam, AFB Hawaii. It was then that I noticed I looked like everyone else! Do you have any idea what it feels like, at almost 30 years old, for the first time in your life to blend in? It was pretty surreal, but I began to wonder, do I really want to blend in?
That was also the phase of my life when I began to realize that if there was any victim in my challenging youth, it was my mother. She was the woman that gave up a comfortable life in Korea and moved to a small town halfway around the globe. She had to learn a new language, adapt to a new culture, and raise two boys that looked different than all of their school friends. I’m sure she struggled in ways I can’t begin to imagine. She was a fighter. She still is (ask my wife). She made me tough. She taught me pride. She helped shape me into the person I am today. That’s my story.
Family Picture (1970). Image courtesy of the Stinebiser family.
But that’s OUR story, isn’t it? Most of us have or know someone that has created a subset to our larger culture. Fifty plus years ago, my brother and I were the two Catholic Chinese boys that eat hamburgers, spaghetti, bulgogi, and kimchi (we’re not, nor have we ever been Chinese).
We were THE minorities in my Catholic elementary school. That was the norm back then, but today that type of segregation is the exception. America has always been known as the melting pot, but it has never been truer than now. We must carefully watch the pot, allowing all the flavors to meld without allowing the pot to boil over, which at times, it seems like we’re getting close. The best way to do that is to embrace our cultural subsets, talk about our differences, laugh about them and learn from them without being offended if someone crosses a line because they don’t understand them.
For our culture to become their culture, their culture must become our culture.
Paul Stinebiser (2019). Image courtesy of Gulf Reflections Studios, Inc.
Resources
We’ve created a free downloadable PDF to explore the article deeper. It contains discussion questions about the topic in general terms that will give you a jumping-off point for beginning a conversation.
The second page contains a way to see the topic from a biblical perspective.
And finally, to go deeper into the subject, we have chosen a few curated resources to explore from other authors’ and thinkers’ research or perspectives.
Read. Engage. Enjoy!
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
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