“You shy, you die,” may be one of the most wonderful culture-shock phrases I’ve encountered in all my travels.This has been my go-to phrase for pushing myself out of my comfort zone. The author of this quote is the wonderful mother of two of my good childhood friends. Xia is her name, she is from Laos.
Jake and her daughter, Jade are two of my good friends. With her accent, it’s almost impossible to tell which one she’s calling by name, so we call Jade, “Moe.” I am known lovingly as “Bardo.”
I’m actually editing this at their home in California. This past July was the last time I saw them, as I helped move them into their new home.
They’re a very mixed family with a germanic father and an immigrant mother from Asia, living in good ol’ Stockton, California. Their family’s white, black and Hmong/Laotian.
The ethnic makeup of Californian societies and that of Dayton could not be more different. While I have a deep love for both our states, I definitely learned a lot from my early days of traveling the country.
Part of that was the depth of sympathy. When I went through the hell I did in life, no one responded with anything that could actually help. Instead, it was just sympathy.
Sympathy doesn’t give me food to eat, it does not procure a public education for me, it does not ensure a roof over my head. Yet, this is the go-to. We just start treating people that go through horrible times with sympathy–then we check out.
The most damaging element to being bombarded with nothing but sympathy is that you begin to operate in a sympathetic routine. You know people are just going to feel bad. You start just associating all of your existence toward the experiences you have with the responses people give you.
You end up not believing you are able to help yourself simply because no one decides to help you.
By doing this routine of sympathy, we don’t end up aiding those we feel like we want to. Instead, we’re aiding our own discomfort.
I think Xia may have first told me “You shy, you die,” when I did not want to ask for more food. I was raised very well mannered, despite my outspoken critics’ refutations of that fact. I generally operate in a manner to cause the absolute least amount of trouble for everyone.
I was reserved and would often miss opportunities because I simply could not justify the thought that I was significant enough to warrant well, anyone’s assistance in anything.
Instead of giving me the same old “poor you, everyone ignores you,” feel-good rhetoric, Xia’s culture does not placate or encourage shyness. She encouraged me to ask for what I want and go for it.
Now you see, that’s quite significant when life’s demands need answering. Sympathy, itself, means I likely end up with no food on my plate. Not everyone can give, which means not everyone can get. Assisting me to develop positive habits can get me food, sympathy cannot.
Now to most people, this notion might have been encouraged. From my growing up, the complete opposite was true. I had to be polite at all costs and never risk offending anyone of a higher social class. I was to be passive.
I say “you shy, you die” all the time now, especially out with my friends in California. Instead of babying someone that needs help, we can encourage someone into developing better habits.
Don’t placate away someone else’s troubles, either decide to help them or pleasantly move along. Otherwise, you’re just going to hurt them more out of selfishness.
We can’t expect everyone to solve our problems. However, we can always work on ourselves–and that is going to have an infinitely superior likelihood of providing for a need.
Barton Kleen
Executive Editor