*flings magazine across the room* Oh, I'm sure you know so much more about Islamic culture than I do, Mister 'I was stationed in Afghanistan'. I'm sure. After all, I only spent AGES wandering around the Sudan, and Egypt, and most of the rest of the Middle East. I only LIVED with these people. I only happen to know them. After all, I only speak and write the language. I only wrote my thesis on the cultural issues facing the region. God knows I know less than you because they never SHOT at me!
Which, by the way, isn't even true!
OOOH! *kicks desk*
Ow. Shouldn't have done that.
*hefty sigh* The trouble is, if even I - a Christian, a Westerner, an American, a country boy, basically straight and always polite - am so much the Other that I cannot be listened to or spoken to rationally, than what I am doing? Does it do any good? Will it ever do any good? I've spent my life trying make everyone PEOPLE. Not the Other. Twenty eight years, and I'm no further than my parents.
*is sad and frustrated*
I'm going to make cookies until my faith in humankind is restored. And pie. Also pie. And probably sweetbreads. Yes, certainly sweetbreads. I need to knead something.