We can do it

East and West the twain shall never meet. As the saying goes. From war to peace, it’s a asymmetrical competition for supremacy and survival. Only time can tell.

From Nixon’s China card to Mexico import (to the US) that outweighs China’s; East and West are still at odds (TikTok open to US bidders) and arm’s length cooperation.

Both cultures however celebrate and retain what deemed intrinsically precious.

Born in a high-context culture (extended family bonding and shared ancestry via thousands- year history), I was shocked when first arrived in low-context campus (planning, precision and high-structured) e.g. students wouldn’t stand up when their lecturer arrived. Conversely, upon returning to Vietnam first time in 25 years, the sound of moped’s honking all night and all day came as a reverse culture shock.

In high-context culture, most things are sous-entendu (insinuation, gossip and third-party arbitration – hardly there was a need for lawyers).

Here, in the US, things need to be overtly and succinctly communicated “Why don’t you spell it out for me, as President Bush tilts:” we don’t do nuances”. Yet even with transparency as S.O.P., we still find S.O.B. self-conflicting street signs, multi- tiered speeding tickets and yes, software-download Terms of Agreement in real fine print that kept updating (apparently, programmers themselves could not figure it all out).

The only time non-verbal (sign language) were used in low-context environment perhaps was when SEALs took down Bin Laden (after divulged thick training manuals) and multiple viewing of Spielberg’s Munich.

Artificial Intelligence barely grasps these non-verbal nuances (Google CEO had quite a rage with Gemini). Its architect was based on 1 and 0, straightforward Yes-No combo.

Meanwhile, women universally are endowed with sensitive, intuitive and relational skills, with one side more “Tiger Mom” than the other, both “re-raise
their slacking husbands.

American women, per WWII, were desperately needed outside of home: We Can Do It (showed n propaganda poster).

Vietnamese women, via the Diary of Dang Thuy Tram, are under-acknowledged and appreciated (not to the extent of living under the Taliban Ministry of Vice and Virtue). Incidentally, Thuy Tram was a medically trained doctor, who out of romantic love, volunteered to enlist and endure hardships during her “American War” to stay close to her pledged lover.

That is not to say men in my families are to be discounted. My uncle was a martyr while a cousin of mine, although married to a French woman, shared half of his earnings to native students found living under the Seine bridge (Paris by Night college days).

Women of both cultures generate more in social values besides obvious biological ones.

Juggling many balls in the air, high-context women had to appease and please the in-laws, their own parents and siblings (hush hush spending money), keeping the wheel well-greased, while fulfilling professional KPIs. Just ask who are represented the most at PTA meetings or on the Asian American bookshelves: from Amy Tan to Amy Chua (with Iris Chang and Usha Vance in between).

And how well their children turned out (a direct product of high-context society). Of the 130,000 or so first-wave Vietnamese refugees, with Guam or Wake Island stop over, one finds pharmacists, doctors, dentists, real estate and insurance brokers, pod casters, poets, teachers, writers, historians, a unique Yalie (to teach our Vietnamese language and again, a very high-context Tales of Kieu), architects, filmmakers and financial planners albeit skewed by STEM.

Out of the bad comes good, ash phoenix.

Still, the mystique is there. Tiger Mom?

Ao Dai’s at Tet festival: socially well-integrated yet domestically traditional (Asian American women are more socially adaptable and accepted than male counterparts – whose legacy was ingrained Yellow Peril (coolie) evidenced in interstate railway. Hollywood picked up on that thematic undercurrent (slanted-eyes depicting Madame Butterfly – heavy make-ups in dimly lit stage…Far East and near West ..the twain shall never meet).

Diary of a high-context woman would see fewer self-inflated and superficial half-truths. Au contraire, its acknowledgement (rightly so) often references others in her network – teachers, priests and parents. Gratitude as virtue, not “yuhuh” in V shape showing unshaved underarms.

Low-context culture ignores or discount non-verbal (pink phone message slips at work). Time is money. What empathy or bonding (the emotional reserve that makes forgiveness possible)? How else could it be – given its shorter history, from the Civil War on – still lingered with paranoid (they took advantage of us, let’s circle the wagons) and high-strung knee-jerk reaction (9/11 long payback) every time the US starts to relax. Again, asymmetrical warfare.

This explains the rise of superficiality and sensationalism on social media where hype and sensational “breaking news” grab our attention (female shooter at Lakewood Church in Houston). Quantity trumps quality. Bombastic bluffing. In a numbers game, per in-house quants, every bit counts (advancing the ball).

In high-context culture, candidates on campaign trail avoid overtly tooting their own horns, for fear of backlash i.e. perceived as arrogant and braggy (harmony is key). They do, however, through paid or unpaid help e.g. large extended families and clans. In today’s environment, it’s top yelp comments (to outsmart Page rank and bury negative or attack ads at the bottom (watch the Candidate, played by Robert Redford).

With more money spent on asking for donation (the Law of the Average), the quant’s algorithms double down on extremist base to stoke and troll. High-context culture, low budget and long history, taps into existing and extended network i.e. cigars dealing and tribal relationships (tit for tat).

Did I say something wrong? Let me apologize in advance (at wedding and funeral, the canned opening remark: “Due to unforeseeable circumstances …please forgive us in advance “.) Fake lest go right.

By contrast, in the age of A.I. and assumed anonymity, we feel less inhibited and more confident to “share”, knowing accountability and blame are diffused in wider digital global village, with “wisdom of crowd”, its Likes and impressions.

Meanwhile, quietly, face-covered women just go about raising children, teaching them in-language and keeping them in line in lane, with strict monitoring of guardrails and common sense. BTW, multi-lingual folks, per studies, tend to be more tolerant, excel at various skillset and more optimized brain power.

American women hardly teach their children a foreign language they themselves don’t know, except for first wave immigrants (in that case, it’s English that is a second language). Low-context mothers neglect physical bonding in abundance of hospital nurses, strollers, walkie/talkies placed in separate rooms, I phone, camera and child seats in minivan…resulting in unwanted de facto abandonment. ‘

They can’t be blamed since they themselves had started out with Barbie and Ken, not real siblings (nuclear family) in private rooms.

The East exists, the West lives. Shame vs guilt culture. Inductive learning vs deductive reasoning. A go-between/translator vs direct confrontation. People vs Purse.

I have tried and tested both, pushing the envelope and rigging the alarm e.g. going against the grain (burning the candle from both ends) till I maxed out my social credits (West) at the same time, falling far from the tree (East) and safety in groups – the deposits needed in case it’s rain e.g. identity, significance and reciprocity.

I once even thought I was “White” (Incarnational Theology) practicing “white” missionary work in Asia/Africa. The East-West tension and incongruence drove me mad (how could I stand by and let my mom go “unsaved” and not baptized? by immersion).

Luckily, my aspiration and ambition come home to roost albeit short of my mom’s trait and truth (she stayed mono-cultural; all set in her ways even after having resettled in snowy America).

In years past, I would be yelled at by now, for not attending to the altar, cleaning the dining table (one was for the dead, the other the living) and whatever trash on the floor in anticipation of Tet.

Continents and cultures away, the sound of tribal drumbeats, of firecrackers (to drive out evil spirits) and music in waltz. “Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah….muon nguoi hanh phuc chan hoa” still echo.

On rare occasions we of high context culture switch to low context, verbalizing and self-revealing at the risk of embarrassing ourselves at the same time ostracized by the group (similar to X-evangelicals or “Here I am” by Jonathan Capehart).

Traditional Asia hardly shows affection in public. Perhaps in the dark and at deserted riverbank. But at New Year’s countdown East meets West or during Tet in exile when firecrackers join fireworks in competition. Push them back (the Devil) way back.

The twain shall once in a while meet (half-way), just for high-context women to press reset, having been in America, land of Apple pie, to find out that last year’s Ao Dai no longer fits. Let the music start, and the graceful dance begin, but body language? Only using the fans and the risks, the swaying of ao dai and scarfs to reinforce Oriental Mystique.

Time evolves from bound-feet to bound-waist.

We can do (diet) it.