Humble pie

Many times we start out conversations in my part of the Midwest with this phrase, even when we are not necessarily “sorry.” “I’m sorry, would you mind passing the bread?” is considered polite in my hometown. My husband, Can, who speaks English as a second language, gets irritated, as he always understands the literal translation of the phrase. “Why are you apologizing for asking for bread?” he replies. “It’s not your fault the bread is closer to me.” He has a point.

My experience with Turkish culture, however, has been the complete opposite. Apologizing here is done differently. In Turkey it is appropriate to reach and get the bread yourself, or just say, “Could you pass the bread?” No apology, “excuse me” or “thank you” necessary. The first few years I lived here I thought that although Turks appeared polite, their language was extremely rude. At school the children rarely, if ever, said please or thank you, even when addressing adults. I took it personally. In my English lessons, I drilled them in English niceties. For example, you can’t just go to a teacher or another student and say, “Give me a pen.” When I started to learn Turkish better I began to relax a bit more. In Turkish there is a formal form of “you” (siz) that at times when used, conveys the same formality as if tacking a “please” or “thank you” at the end.

When it came to apologizing in the true sense of the word, apologizing for a wrongdoing, that was an entirely different story. At my first job in Turkey I was appalled. Even after nine years of living in İstanbul the scars from the first few years at that job are still visible. I have never, before or since, been in such a toxic work environment, but it did teach me a side of Turkish culture early on.

Every Monday morning the headmistress of the school would hold a meeting with the teachers and staff. No one knew English, and I had only a minimal grasp of Turkish. Meetings at schools where I had worked in the US generally consisted of the principal talking with the staff, updating us, and asking our concerns. Here in Turkey, it was the day that our headmistress screamed at us, berated us and encouraged divisions between us. It was horrifying. Throughout the week, teachers would get into screaming matches with each other. Then, the next day, everyone drank tea or coffee together like nothing had happened.

When I got into an altercation with another Turkish teacher (she was caught stealing my lesson plans and other materials) we had a big fight. I waited for an apology, which I never got. The next day she smiled at me like everything was fine, and expected that I would drink tea with her. I had no closure from the incident, and was still angry. So I brought it up again and we started arguing again. Surprisingly, despite being so very wrong, everyone sided with Fatoş. They were upset with me for bringing it up again, despite the fact that there had been no closure.

A gaping cultural difference

This incident spells out a gaping cultural difference between the Turkish and American ways of asking for forgiveness. In America, colleagues fight all the time. Usually one person will apologize to the other, and they can move on. If that apology does not happen, or is not helped along by a facilitator (boss, supervisor, etc.), it creates a bad work environment, as neither party is willing to move on. In Turkey, arguments happen, and then an hour or a day later everyone is drinking tea together like nothing happened. No resolution (so the fight usually happens again), just pretending, so that both parties can “save face.” It is not an easy thing to say “I’m sorry,” and to self-reflect on what you did wrong. In Turkish culture it is extremely difficult to get this closure, and not just in the workplace. This attitude can transfer over to relationships as well.

Can and I have worked on understanding this cultural disparity from the moment conflict entered our relationship, which mainly came in the form of his mother. Her attitude towards apologizing is similar to what I described above. We would fight, and then be expected to move on without an apology from either side. Can and I fought a lot, and he was irritated by my need for closure. As the months passed, I became even unhappier with this style of conflict resolution. We kept having the same fights over and over again. When my son Eren turned one, I reached the end of my tether, and took serious steps towards ending my marriage. I couldn’t continue like this. The severity of the situation forced us both to dig deep and self-reflect on our respective cultures and our selves.

I realized why so many cross-cultural relationships fail. Both of us believed we were right. Both needed something from the other one that we didn’t know how to give. Since saying “I’m sorry” is such an ingrained part of my culture, I was usually the one that would apologize when we fought, to take the steps towards peace. Can wouldn’t also apologize to me, as he should have by American standards, because it wasn’t a part of his culture. Over the years I viewed myself as taking the blame for every one of our fights, even though it didn’t seem that way to Can. To solve this we both had to step outside of our cultural comfort zone. Can apologizes on occasion, and I have learned to get closure from disagreements in different ways.

I still fight with my mother-in-law at times, but don’t fester over it anymore. Rather, I just drink tea with her later and play the game. There are some tricks you can’t teach old dogs, and I just have to accept it. Her attitude is not solely directed at me, as she doesn’t apologize to anyone. Why should I be the one feeling put out? I left the school with the toxic work environment and had two wonderful years of work at another Turkish school. Maybe because I was more culturally comfortable, or maybe because the Turkish staff there was just a better bunch, I had a great work environment. There were some conflicts but by then I had found my voice and gave back what I was served. Then I drank tea afterwards.

I still apologize when I am wrong, for myself. There are some things about myself that I cannot change. I am not perfect, and don’t care that some people might view it as a weakness. It took a while to find this cultural middle ground, and this is something that I have heard many other expats discuss. Look inside yourself and find what part of the closure process is important to you, and find a way to implement that in your expat life. It is not an easy journey, but not impossible. Even after nine years I am still learning every day.

*Elle Loftis is an American expat, writer and mother living in İstanbul. Reach her at e.loftis@todayszaman.com for comments or questions.