HAGEN: Slip of the rubber tongue

I believe it is universal etiquette not to discuss sex at dinner. It is especially impolite if you have been acquainted with your dining companions for no more than a day and even less kosher if they happen to be your French boyfriend’s family. Under absolutely no circumstances should the topic be broached if at the head of your table sits his 87-year-old great aunt. Naturally I pulled a Sheen, or rather a “Le Sheen” (French translation) and guillotined all societal propriety with one sharp, misspoken word.

Traveling to France for spring break, I was faced with a bevy of “meet the family” dinners. I made sure to brush up on socially acceptable topics for discussion in the country. Libya? Fine, since I was pro-use of U.N. Intervention. U.S. politics? Only if I talked about Obama because, similar to the breadth of knowledge of many Americans, he is really the only politician French people know anything about. Immigration? Would not touch that with a 10-foot baguette. How fat Americans are? Always a winner.

I even researched proper dining manners in order to fit in with my bourgeois tablemates. For example, in France, always keep both hands above the table because a hand under it implies that you may be having a little too much fun with your neighbor. Unfortunately, it is impossible to ever entirely prepare fitting in with another culture and despite the amount of research I did, it was a dreaded language faux pas which would ultimately turn my face very rouge.

I was discussing the obesity epidemic in the United States (so of course I was making a great impression up to this point) when I wanted to mention the main difference between French and American food: the use of an unhealthy amount of preservatives in the latter. When I do not know a word in French I just take an English word and slap a heavy Pepé Le Pew style accent on it and hope for the best. The word “preservatives,” therefore, was turned into something which sounded like Pray-ser-vah-teevs which consequently is the pronunciation for the French word preservatifs. Condoms. I told my boyfriends’ family, including his elderly great aunt, that “American food is filled with condoms.” Oh merde.

Looking stupid is the risk you have to take if you want to appreciate and, ironically, respect a culture. John F. Kennedy famously made a similar mistake to my own when during a speech in Berlin he proclaimed to the German crowds, “Ich bin ein Berliner!” He believed it translated to the inspiring message of solidarity, “I am a Berliner.” However, “Berliner” is actually the name of a popular jelly donut. Basically he called himself a pastry to millions and millions of listeners.

Honestly, though, it is not his faux pas which probably made the biggest impression, but the fact that he even spoke German in the first place. Too often Americans are stamped with the stereotype that they only speak English and refuse to learn other languages. One of the greatest signs of respect you can show for another nation’s citizens is to at least attempt to converse in the native language, even if it is only a few basic words. It proves that maybe you live outside the commonly perceived American view of the dominance of the English language and hold in esteem the culture in which you are a guest.

My own slip-up was not greeted with shocked silence or steely stares but rather a round of raucous “hahas!” or, since this is France, “Hee hee hee haw haw haws!” Everyone understood I was not a native speaker and was able to appreciate enough that at least I was trying to hold a discussion in French and so my mistakes were disregarded.

Looking at the bigger picture, if the American government took more pains to better understand and respect the foreign customs of other nations, then we would be viewed much more favorably around the world. We have seen how the United States’ complete lack of knowledge of a foreign culture’s traditions, history and politics has had extremely negative consequences in Iraq. Thus, as revolutionary fervor continues to sweep much of the Middle East we must be careful not to repeat similar faux pas. Furthermore, through trying to better understand other cultures, if we do make errors, perhaps they would not be held in such contempt and more easily forgiven. Consequently, this may also allow me to hold a wider variety of positive conversations about my country while abroad considering the “fatty American” thing does get old.

Of course, one of the greatest benefits from making a mistake is learning from it. The next morning at breakfast when I wanted to spread some fresh strawberry preservatives on my bread without looking like a sex fiend, I made sure to ask for the “confiture,” the proper French word for jam. I much prefer jelly on my toast than rubber anyway.

Steph Hagen is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at shagen@bu.edu.