Last summer, I shocked my doctor. During a routine check-up, the dialogue moved to a discussion about living abroad, specifically in a Muslim country, as a woman. My doctor, obviously baffled by my choice to live in the Middle East, had some questions, one of which elicited an engaging conversation.
Looking over her glasses, she asked, “Do you have to wear an abaya?”
“Yes. But I don’t mind.” While she decided whether to have a stroke or turn me in for not being a feminist, I chose to fill the silence. “The way I see it, I’m a guest in their country. It was my choice to be here, so the least I can do in return is be respectful of their customs. It’s not political. It’s polite.”
“It’s not political. It’s polite.”
— Anon Gray
After a long pause and far less blinking than is probably healthy, she responded, “That’s an interesting way to look at it. I’d never thought of it like that.”
Throughout the rest of the exam, the doctor continued to shake her head, still processing what I had said. Sprinkled between questions about my diet and whether I was a smoker, she’d ask questions about what it was like to live in the Middle East. By the time I walked out the door, there was more curiosity in her voice than judgment, more compassion than criticism. Not because I’m a particularly persuasive individual, but because when it comes to the power of connection, humans are surprisingly understanding.
To be fair, I had similar feelings as my doctor when we moved to the Middle East for the first time. Getting ready to move to Dubai a decade ago, my perceptions of the region were one-dimensional and not particularly complimentary. I packed up our house, but I also brought all my preconceived notions about the area and its people. It wasn’t until I was on the ground that I discovered my errors. Complexity is human nature, and no experience is done justice by diminishing its wholeness.
“Complexity is human nature, and no experience is done justice by diminishing its wholeness.”
— Anon Gray
The more I traveled, the more my understanding of the world unraveled. The heartache that occurred in Sri Lanka was mirrored in Indonesia. Dreams and hopes conjured in Vietnam could be found in Saudi Arabia. It didn’t matter where I went. People suffered. People dreamed. People did what they could in the best ways they knew how.
I’ve had the privilege to visit many places, but more fascinating than any location are the people who inhabit this planet. There’s the Egyptian Christian clown who runs the art shop, the Iranian banker with more stories than could fill a lifetime, and the Moroccan historian who chooses to study his country in retirement. There’s the Japanese artist living and teaching art in Cambodia, and the Hungarian beekeeper educating people about bees and honey here in Saudi. The world over, I’ve met more kind people than mean and heard more fascinating life stories than could ever fill Netflix.
But let me return to the doctor’s visit last summer. As much as I understand my physician’s perspective, I also know that it takes less than we realize to step out from behind our own biases and discover our willingness to witness the complexity in each of us. It looks like talking to our neighbors, intentionally learning about beliefs that differ from our own, and letting go of rigid opinions (and politics), so we can stay open to diverse experiences. It doesn’t require us to travel the globe. Human complexity is discovered in the stories of everyone around us.
“By eliminating our judgment of others, we embrace human wholeness.”
— Anon Gray
I may not be Muslim, but I live in a Muslim country. I may not observe Ramadan, but my neighbors do. When I choose to live in a different culture than the one I was raised in, I choose to show respect for the local customs. What I get in return is far more valuable than my ability to show my shoulders and ankles outside the home. The way we walk in the world matters, and our willingness to be open to seemingly different life experiences significantly impacts our happiness. Judgment has no place in a mind that’s willing to embrace the complexity of the human experience. By eliminating our judgment of others, we embrace human wholeness, not just in our friends and neighbors but also in our so-called enemies and ourselves.
