How do you like your eggs? A Bicultural Perspective
I was puzzled, the first time I was asked, “How do you like your eggs?” No one in Mongolia had ever asked me, and I can’t even imagine a Mongolian asking me such a question unless to particularly fawn over me to the point of insincerity and excessive flattery.
Whenever someone asked me this question thereafter, I have answered differently every time, just to get rid of the question and not seem wishy-washy. But I like “my” eggs in all kinds of ways. Everything except burned black or spoilt eggs. I have even had raw eggs on someone’s advice.
As a child, I ate everything in my bowl or plate. On my great-grandma’s teaching, I even used to lick my bowl clean. (Looks strange in America.) The only exception I remember from eating everything is when I tried my hand at cooking soup at age 6. I couldn’t eat a whole bowl of my own creation–a sick puddle of tasteless mush.
But honestly, I didn’t think I could choose to leave food on my plate, much less have a preference about it. It seemed an indulgence and almost meanness to the providers and ultimately to the privilege of having food to eat. (Yes, I’ve had times in my life where there was NOTHING to eat except a little bit of sugar and bread crumbs for days.)
Had I entertained such indulgences, my mom would have scolded, “Bitgii mayaglaad bai chi!” (Quit being snobby!) Or as another more diplomatic Mongolian mom said to her two-year-old son for wavering about finishing his bowl of food, “Yamar mayagtai yum be chi?” (My, how fancy you are?)
In the US, personal preferences are a normal part of conversation. Individualism is so prized in America that who you are is apparently in everything! Children have preferences for what they eat, how they eat, what to wear, buy, what classes to take, and are rating their teachers. This “rating your teachers” part is bizarre in Mongolia because they are highly respected people who are consulted as second set of parents and invested in your well-being. It’s like being asked to rate your parents. (I guess that’s not too far away in America. j/k)
I believe a lot of innovation and amazing things happen out of the courage from empowered individuals. So, I don’t think it’s a good or a bad thing in itself to respect and cultivate individual expression, in all its form. (Fine art and fashion design happen to be some of my favorite fields of work to observe.)
But having options and opinions could be pretty bad. In the Wall Street Journal, I read about an article on picky eaters last month, featuring a mother who wished her daughter won’t be as picky. She only eats about four dishes, two of which include fries and pizza. Needless to say, she didn’t look very healthy (obese would be the word). Fortunately, her daughter’s menu is more diverse, according to the writer.
When I raise my kid, I certainly hope the child doesn’t pick up this sense of entitlement and obsessive “personal freedom” that ends up looking like ego on drugs. Or for that matter, I hope my child doesn’t go through American form of puberty, where it’s culturally accepted that bad attitude, rebellion, and moodiness should prevail over intelligence, respect for elders, and good sense. This doesn’t happen in every culture. It’s unheard of in Mongolia to give the excuse, “Oh, he’s just a teenager… going through his phase, you know?”
Having personal opinions on everything is simply not necessary to live happily in the world. It’s more graceful to take life as you receive it–just as eating your eggs as you are served it.
So, what do you think? No opinion? Ha!