Culture of Self

As a child, I remember tuning the television to tv-tiga (channel 3) and catching the beginning, middle, or end of the call to prayer. I remember stills of the interiors of a mosque with a blue dome and minaret to match; and in the background the deep baritone timbre of a muezzin sang the adhan. This would continue for fifteen minutes and then television would reconvene as though nothing unusual had occurred. And in fact, nothing had. As a child, I was exposed to scores of instances and peculiarities of the many cultures with which I lived. From the call to prayer in Malaysia, to the juxtaposition of class in the Philippines, to the paradoxical divisiveness of cultural groups in America that form in spite of those visionaries calling for its abolition —and the cornucopia of ethnicities abounding each country— culture has played a strong hand in shaping me, my view of culture, and the attitudes that I bring to the classroom — both as a learner and a teacher.

When I think of the part that religion has played in shaping me and my view of culture, I think of the religious acceptance in Malaysia — a fact that might shock Americans whose frame of Islam remains shrouded by the media’s myopic portrayals of fundamentalists and terrorists in the Middle East. (Which is ironic, as Malaysia is as far from the Middle East as New York is from Hawaii.) To this day, Kuala Lumper (or KL) —the capital and city in which I lived — is composed of three main ethnicities: Malays, Chinese, and Indians, each of which practice their own faiths: Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism (or Jainism), respectively. Christianity exists, too, though sparsely, and mostly for expats and Filipina amahs. Out of this crucible of acceptance and my parents’ own equal fascination and appreciation of other cultures, I became well-acquainted with religious diversity, and enjoy the continued impact it has had upon my life. In some cultures, religion isolates and divides; having lived in a culture that embraced religious diversity, I too am accepting of other religions and customs.

I realize that like religion, language also frames the world in which we live; it reflects our place in the socioeconomic structure, our education, and our privileges. By growing up in business centers where English is seen as the lingua franca —with Malay, Cantonese, and Tagalog designated as a local or even street language— I see how language has placed me in a place of privilege and power. This continues even in my present life, where multilingualism is seen by those foisting assimilation as a negative, but by those with a higher socio-economic status as a necessity in the business world. Here, the tragedy is that one class deprives those without power of language, while reserving the facility of several languages for those with power. Having experienced both worlds, and recognizing the struggle endemic to those who lack language, I find myself eager to empower those without so that we can stand together in a democratic society and not apart.

Tied strongly with language and its effect on me is class, though it is not something upon which I tend to dwell. When I think of class and its effect upon culture, I immediately think of the Philippines. Society there is bilaterally defined by class: on one side are the fifth-generation Spanish (the aristocrats), defined not only by their wealth, but boastfully by their link to Spain’s conquest and the subsequent colonialization of the Philippine Islands; on the other are the rest — locals with no claim to old money or power, of which some have made it in the business, educational, clergical, or governmental sectors, but of which most live in a kind of garish squalor far below living standards in America. As teen, I was appalled by this inequity in lifestyles and the limits it placed on the have-nots; I was equally appalled to recognize it again when I worked one summer between semesters during undergrad. That summer I worked for Follett as an assistant book buyer. In that role, I assisted in the purchasing, boxing, and loading of hundred of textbooks from schools in and around Chicago. While on the job, I witnessed great wealth, and equally great poverty. What struck me most, though, was how much like a developing country elements of the poorer neighborhoods and suburbs were. It enabled me to better realize the privileges that I have had in my life, but also of the great divide of wealth in my own country.

Ethnicity, too, has had a tremendous effect upon my life and how I view culture. First, I choose the term ethnicity instead of race, because to me race is too limiting. Having lived among Malays, Chinese, Indians, Pakistanis, Bengalis, Japanese, Thais, Indonesians, even Filipinos —each with their own distinct culture — and how can I do any less? Having attended an international school as a child where intercultural education and multiculturalism were a part of the curriculum since day one, to me ethnicity is merely another frame by which I can appreciate the world; it is not the barrier that I occasionally have witnessed mounted in my peers, but a challenge to view to the whole world as it is.

Finally, there is gender and sexuality — two aspects of culture whose effects upon me coalesced slowly during undergrad. As a male, I recognize that I am more privileged than females. Females are usually paid less than men; they are often treated as secondary citizens because of their gender; and at night, they have more to fear. As a heterosexual, I am also aware that my sexuality privileges me. My culture and other cultures will not label me as perverted, religions will not shun me on high moral ground, and society will not label me as an invisible member of the community. However, I also recognize that neither — gender nor sexuality — is my choice. My brother is gay and I am marrying a beautiful woman in the spring. Should that mean that because of my privileges that I should treat them any worse? Or that I should treat others worse? I think not.

As I see it, culture has shaped me into the person I am today, as well as the professional I hope to be in the classroom. As a learner, it has broadened me, allowing me to accept others as they are, to refrain from defining others by the limiting construct of stereotyping, and to reach out and give chances to others that may be limited by the frames that define their culture. At the same time, I also respect their culture as surely their culture defines them as much as mine defines me.

As a teacher, it is my hope to bring my love of culture to the classroom, not only to better illustrate the inter-connectedness of math and culture, but to further illustrate that we bring culture everywhere, even to school. As a teacher, I am also aware that the environment in which I teach will rarely approximate the intercultural environment in which I learned. It is my belief, however, that culture continues to evolve based upon the interaction of differing cultures, views, opinions, and attitudes, and the assessment that the participants of those interactions make. Therefore, while my culture and my views may differ from those of my peers and my students, it is my responsibility to challenge those sociocultural opinions in order to impact the culture and ideas of those around me, and hopefully develop this society into one that better approximates democracy.