How American Men are Different from Bangladeshi Men.

Last Friday night after eating dinner with a friend I decided to stay at a cafe and read. Yes, I was alone with a book on a Friday evening, and (though I admit this is not always the case), I was absolutely content.

At some point three young men came in and positioned themselves at a table just in my line of "staring off while pondering" vision. I know this because in the midst of contemplating my eyes suddenly focused to become aware that I had locked gazes with one. I immediately realized my grievous error: girl sitting by herself on a Friday night starring at you - she must be lonely. I quickly attempt to correct this blunderous invitation by using extremely closed off body language (torso turned toward the wall, hand on forehead, face close to book), but it was too late. Next thing I know one is striding toward me. I think "perhaps he is just getting a refill?" I lean in closer to my book, and hug the wall. "May I sit with you for a moment?" Game over. I think "Not this. I'm not in Bangladesh anymore, leave me alone." I say "sure."

He introduces himself, asks my name, then plunges into a speech about how he and his friends like to find out if people know God, because they know God and he saved them, etc. I think "Oh even better, an evangelistic dater, that is so Abilene of you." I say "interesting." I am tense. What is this kid about to ask me? I hold my breath waiting for the inevitable "have you been saved?" But instead hear: "would you say that you believe in God?" Momentarily relieved, I respond "I most definitely believe in God."

Then, rather than going the next step and making sure I am a Christian, he surprises me again by beginning the next part of his sermon on how he hates evil and how he adamantly believes that all people who commit crimes against women and children should be publicly executed. He explains how he simply cannot understand why Obama is talking so much about health care when he should be focusing on keeping people safe. "You see," he said "the more politically left you become, the more you want to take over the world; the more politically right you become, you actually get closer to God."

Not what you expect to hear from someone who is try to save your soul, or date you. As he continues his aimless tirade a barrage of defensive statements and arguments come into my head. This kid has no idea what he is talking about, I could shut him down in no time. At the same time memories from my first suitor in Bangladesh come flooding back to me. Perhaps this is the moment to try out the "I am strong and happy" line again... or maybe in this context something more along the lines of "sorry to confuse you by looking like the girl next door, I am a liberal, feminist, passivist."

Just as I was on the verge of trying out something like this, he paused. He seemed to have lost his train of thought for a moment and nervously looked into my eyes. We looked into each others eyes. I stopped. What is it about the eyes that cut through our charades and lay us bare?
(When acting, until you come to accept the fact that there is always some reality to the fantasy that is being played out on stage, eye contact can really throw you off. There you are playing your role when reality suddenly breaks in. Sometimes it makes you laugh when you shouldn't, and other times you have this gut reaction, and it is like you are somehow suspended between two worlds... the eyes make the moment real somehow, even though you know it simultaneously isn't. You see the real other and see them seeing you, and you think "wait a minute what happened to the game?" You keep playing the part, but you walk off stage knowing a connection just took place with another human, and you wonder what it means. The eyes seem to reject our attempts to block ourselves off, like doors forever nailed open.)
I suddenly woke up to the fact that this man in front of me was not some pompous, imbecile that I needed to put in his place, but a brother, confused, struggling, biased by his background and history, and yearning for love and acceptance -- just like me.

And I thought to myself: "you are a judgemental, arrogant, fool." And I changed my tactic. Rather than trying to get rid of him (my first approach) or entice him (what I assumed he thought I was doing), I would instead try something novel, offering him real love.

I asked him how he came to care so much about protecting people. I asked him why he loved God. Then I found myself talking to him about how amazing Jesus is, and my own struggle between justice and mercy. I touched on the topic of criminals again, and rather than fighting for his point of view he said "you know, I never thought about it like this before, but I don't think God would want me to execute those criminals - he'd probably want me to love them... I could do that."

Just like that. I couldn't believe it.

Then he seemed to get back on track. I could see it a mile away. He began telling me about this other girl he was trying to convert and how frustrated he is that he can't have intelligent conversations with her. "I need intelligent conversation, I can't stand stupidity - I think it is a choice" he says. And I am certain his next move will be "and since we have such brilliant conversation together, how about you give me your number so we can talk some more..."

I restrain a smile. I talk about how amazed I have always been at the type of people Jesus chose to hang out with, uneducated and unrighteous, "how did he do it?" I wonder aloud.

He did a lot more talking and I asked more clarifying and deepening questions. Then for my final surprise of the night, he looks me straight in the eyes and says "Wow, this has been great, thank you so much." Then he shakes my hand and goes back to his table.

No asking for my number, no "can I see you next week," no "come meet my mother," and certainly no proposal. I then realize that not only am I judgemental and arrogant, I am also conceited.

Humbling as this moment was, I choose to blame my error in judgement on a year of having every man I pass stop to stare at me, and any who had the chance to talk to me moving quickly from "what is your country?" to "do you need a husband?"


You see, it's not me, it's just the re-acculturation process.