What Is My Culture?
Having rejected the values represented by the culture I was raised in, where does that leave me?
After having spent some six years working on a novel set in pre-colonial Native America I shelved the project after it was suggested that it was not publishable because it was written by a white man. I had a lot of fun writing it. I learned a great deal about the craft of writing novels, which is similar to writing for the screen, but fundamentally different from other forms of writing. It’s a beast of a job, but I loved it, and even found joy in it. And when we feel joy doing something it usually means we’re on the right track, following our heart and doing what we’re meant to do.
In my early 30s I was introduced to Native American ceremony. It profoundly changed my life and set me on a new course of self-discovery, healing, and growth. Sitting in a tipi all night, singing, praying, utilizing tobacco, cedar, and sage, watching the intricate complexities of the ceremony unfold I began to perceive a way of actually being happy and at peace in life.
After a few years of participating in the ceremonies I was invited to a couple of ceremonies on the Navajo reservation, which is where I met the man who would adopt me into his family — a family of numerous medicine people with a long tradition of ceremony. Feeling quite detached from my biological family, this was a beautiful and welcomed invitation. Daniel (my adopted Navajo brother) and I proceeded to travel together each summer, attending ceremonies all over the expansive Navajo reservation and beyond. I participated in ceremonies in South Dakota, Washington DC, Virginia, North Carolina, Ohio, New Mexico, Arizona, and of course many in California.
I learned so much from these ceremonies, from time with the elders, from Daniel and his sister, the late Pauline Bedonie. Slowly, I became a different person — more aligned with a value system that I felt at home with. In 2012 Daniel ordained Maria and I with a sweat alter, which meant that we had the right to conduct sweat ceremonies, and he and Pauline continued to train us in the ways of the Navajo Devotional ceremony.
Maria and I were living in North Carolina at the time and in a community of many spiritually oriented people. Some would be considered metaphysical, some just young free-spirited individuals, and many who identified with the modern hippie culture. It was the hippie culture that I began to take issue with, as I perceived what I thought to be cultural appropriation. Individuals who would take part in ceremonies conducted by actual Native people, and after a short time set themselves up as conveyors of the ceremonies themselves, only with a different twist, such as naked co-ed sweats, charging money for ceremony, the mixing of marijuana with the ceremonies, and other practices that felt unsafe to me. They weren’t spending years, as I had, in training with medicine people. They weren’t (as far as I perceived) spending concentrated time in prayer and meditation asking themselves what their intentions were for running ceremonies. It was more like they were playing at it (in my judgement).
My Navajo relations encouraged me to speak out about what I was seeing and that I had a responsibility to uphold the traditions as they had been taught to me. My sister Pauline instructed me that the ceremonies are a life and death responsibility, and they were trusting us to conduct them the way they had been given to us. Holy crap! That’s a lotta responsibility.
And then the vision for this novel came. It’s a story of an adolescent Native American boy in pre-colonial times who has been identified as having the aptitude for practicing the medicine ways. But he is reluctant and unsure of himself, and yet thrust into the responsibility from a young age of being a healer to his people. You could say he is a reluctant medicine man in training. The book is called Quiet Warrior.
Fast forward to today as I ponder if I’ll ever revisit Quiet Warrior, will I seek to publish it or re-write it (again)? A few years ago I pitched it to numerous book agents and didn’t receive much more than a nibble, as of course the book publishing industry follows trends. And the current trend is that books can only be written by people born into the culture they’re writing about.
Which surfaced the question: What is my culture?
To answer the question one must first understand what exactly culture is. Merriam-Webster defines it as “the customary beliefs, social forms, and material traits of a racial, religious, or social group.” This definition seemed lacking to me, so I plugged the query into ChatGPT and received a more granular one.
“Culture can be defined as the set of beliefs, values, customs, behaviors, and artifacts that characterize a group or society. It encompasses the shared knowledge, attitudes, practices, and language that members of a community or society have developed and passed down over time. Culture can be seen as a way of life for a group of people, and it influences everything from their daily habits and routines to their beliefs about the world, relationships, and social norms.”
The part that stands out for me the most is the “set of beliefs, values [and] customs.”
I was raised in a patriarchal, misogynistic, and subtly racist culture that valued extractive economic policies. But since I’ve rejected those beliefs, values, and customs, what is my culture?
Clearly, I strongly identify with the values of traditional indigenous culture. Values such as not taking more than I need, sharing with others, helping others, following my calling (which in the vernacular would be called catching a vision), living in harmony with nature, respecting all life, respecting women as the life-givers, respecting elders as the wisdom keepers, and so on.
But since I didn’t grow up in this culture I can’t claim it as my own. Or at least this is the current understanding of cultural appropriation. Does this mean I can only claim the culture in which I was raised, or the culture that aligns with my race? If this is so then I should be a womanizing, racist, capitalistic, self-centered, taker. But I would rather not live at all than live that way.
I’ve rejected so many of the traditions of the culture in which I was raised. As a kid I, of course, loved Christmas because it meant presents. And I also loved the spirit of Christmas, but even as a boy I pondered about the rest of year. Why only during Christmas time are we kind to one another? Easter never made any sense to me. Fourth of July was just about fireworks. Eventually I learned of the Native American perspective of Thanksgiving and Columbus Day and came to feel differently about those holidays.
Even marriage has been different for me. It’s not about a piece of paper filed with the county, but rather the commitment and dedication, and the ceremony is about publicly proclaiming our commitment. And doesn’t it seem weird that a woman should be “given away” by her father at the altar of marriage as if her father somehow owns her? I’ve questioned so many of the intricacies of the modern version of the marriage ceremony. Why do brides and grooms smear wedding cake on each other’s faces? Why do the officiators say, “Do you take . . .”? Why bachelor parties with strippers? Why should weddings be produced in such a way as to present an image of “perfect” when no relationship is perfect? Why . . . okay, you get the idea.
Why career over family? Why fighting wars for economic gain is presented as patriotic? Why is socialism demonized? Why are selfies somehow fun to put up on social media? Why is fashion seen as “beauty,” while grace is perceived as the domain of the looser? Why do we associate testicles with strength and women as weak? Why do we warehouse our elders in rest homes while paying young people to watch our children?
The question at hand is: What is my culture? Who do I belong to? And where do I belong?
The answer that seems to want to push itself to the surface as though a sunken treasure chest that has somehow broken free of its heavy gold and silver and accumulated a slightly large enough pocket of air to slowly push its way to the surface after a lifetime of obscurity is this: Love.
Not the unicorns and rainbows and everything is beautiful kind of love. Not the kind of love that is associated with casual sex, or the patriotic love of country, or even a love of a favorite television show. What’s emerging is the kind of love that is gentle, nurturing, caring, kind, inclusive, accepting, and honoring, but also honest when the truth hurts, courageous when the stakes are high, and requires the establishment of boundaries when one’s space or safety are infringed upon.
It's the kind of love that will run into a burning building to save a child, that will downsize possessions to have a more gentle footprint on Mother Earth, who will recycle and reuse, go solar (until a better option is available), who will be willing to admit when we fall short and make amends, who will empathize with the suffering of others and seek to help when possible, who will replace patriotism with humanitarianism, sex with spiritual bonding, giving versus leverage, and getting by with less when we already have more than enough.
It's also infinite, as the energy of love is. Which means our journey of love is never ending. There is no reaching a finish line or a point of graduation. It is constantly evolving, as our love is constantly increasing.
This is my culture. But there is no country called Love, or state or province, or even a city that I’m aware of. And yet there are tens of millions of people who share my culture who live among us. They are scattered, not physically connected, but they are there.
So I guess that means I belong to the culture of the scattered tribe of people constantly evolving toward a more pure form of love, with the understanding that there is no specific destination, only an infinite journey.
Even if we were all connected we wouldn’t try and form a sovereign country because that would represent separation, which is not consistent with love. We wouldn’t form an association with an annual conference because that would require hierarchy, which also is not consistent with love. We wouldn’t wear badges or hold titles or create a certification program for people to achieve certain levels, because . . .
We’re just here, holding space for humanity.
Back to Quiet Warrior — will I ever publish it? Will I self-publish it, or maybe serialize it here on the DEEPER side of things. Keeping it to myself seems a little selfish, as writing the book was a moving experience for me. No doubt I will receive heavy criticism. It’s a question yet to be resolved.
What is your culture? Can you share about it in the comments?
If you’ve enjoyed this post please like, share, and subscribe. The way the DEEPER side of things reaches a wider audience is through word of mouth. Thank you for your support.
I really enjoyed your article, Glenn. It raised some of the issues I've struggled with over the years, having a white skin, but having been raised in a Hispanic family and being the first of my siblings to learn Spanish, live in a Spanish-speaking country, etc. What is my culture? What am I allowed to claim as my own? Does my love and study of the Hispanic culture not "count" because (in the US anyway), Hispanics are identified as people of color? I agree with you that it is a much more nuanced inquiry.
I would love to read your novel . . .because it is informed by your years of study and acceptance into the Navajo culture. I would guess that you have more understanding than many native Navajos who have not had the opportunity or inclination to study with the same depth that you have. Of course, publishers are looking for the quick capitalistic "sales potential" of books . . . In this modern world, I'm not sure anyone has the right to claim pure "ownership" of any culture (as a whole), but I am also sensitive to the misappropriation concept because it is rampant and has become an "extractive" practice in modern commerce.
If we are going to survive as a human race, we have to find a way to transcend ALL these artificial boundaries, and love is certainly one aspect of that transcendent culture. Transcending the boundaries not not mean, of course, abandoning the beauty of cultural heritage or losing a deep appreciation for the diversity of cultural heritage. It involves recognizing our common humanity and finding a way to bring unity to that human kaleidoscope without devaluing, diminishing or destroying the beauty of the original diversity.
I would challenge you on one issue, though. I have come to believe that all of humanity is, in fact, connected in ways that we don't necessarily see. Every action we take, every blog we post, every conversation we have, every effort we make to reduce the burden on our environment, has ripple effects well beyond what we can see at the time. We are all part of one giant people and planet eco-system. That thought actually gives me a sense of hope, because the more that those of us who strive for that transcendent culture recognize and work to build our connections, the more impact we can hope to have.
Thank you for sharing your deepest thoughts.
This is heartful, well written, and inspiring, Glenn. It pushes me to think about the possibilities of a world where cultural differences are all respected and economically viable in an equitable rather than a win-lose, hierarchical manner.
Growing up with parental abuse at home, bullies at school, and antisemitism in the larger culture--yet being white and middle-class in an early US suburb (I think we had the first McDonalds restaurant in the state of Minnesota)--I came to identify as a stranger in a strange land. I was deeply influenced by the 60s youth rebellion, the antiwar, civil rights and environmental movements, the human potential movement, and more… I left the Reserve Officer Training Corps in 1969 to join the anti-Vietnam War movement. The fact that my country had killed a million IndoChinese and 50,000 US American troops to take over an unwinable French colonial reconquest of Southeast Asia made no sense to me. So I grew up believing that "to be sane in an insane world was to be insane."
I evolved a personal mission that was "the pursuit of unlimited human potential through unconditional love in community." On this journey, I have seen the emergence of new models of human cooperation and welcoming spiritualities, such as the global 12 Step fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, which offers the "Higher Power of one's choosing" rather than "one correct religion" for everyone to follow. I also see mass cooperative efforts, operated by design principles rather than by traditional authority. Examples include the Internet, Wikipedia, and the 12 step program of AA. A few major religions and dominant cultures, practiced homogeneously, have been replaced by millions of variations within a process of mass customization.
Our world has more and more resources every day as technologies, infrastructures, and human capabilities, keep evolving rapidly. There is great potential for the world to become cooperative, as well as to become people+planet-centered, rather than competitive and money-centered. I believe that a global renaissance is at our fingertips and thoughtful leadership, such as yours, holds an important missing piece of the human evolution puzzle. Namaste.