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because i can.
Jan. 27th, 2004 12:19 amso i got to thinking recently (always a dangerous thing). i hate the French tradition of kisses on both cheeks. to me, it has always seemed cold, filled with hauteur and a polite sheen of sociability that masks everything beneath. it's greeting an enemy with daggers in your eyes, thinly veiled but not fooling anyone as you exchange those tiny little pecks, one for each cheek. the jugular, go for the jugular!. it's an attack, an invasion of personal space. perhaps it came about in times of sickness, to prove that they were unafraid of the risks, that they "trusted" their acquaintance enough to risk physical contact. it is a uniquely social gesture, with very little feeling or affection behind it.
a handshake, to me, has always seemed more heartfelt, more acceptable. it is a binding, a tie of two people into one momentary entity with one goal, one flesh. even a bow is preferable; it conveys respect, admiration, a connection. but the French double-kiss leaves me cold.
now, for those who don't know me, i am French. my family is French. holiday seasons are made up of an endless string of these kisses. left cheek, right cheek, hands on shoulders. glasses knocking together, someone mistaking which direction to take first, height differences, and other sundry things make it awkward, dreaded. uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents. everyone subjected to the meaningless ritual, an endless procession of relatives awaiting the seal of social approval before the gathering can begin. and again it looms, at the end of the evening, a ritual of leave-taking without any real ties, no emotional investment. emotion is reserved for hugs or lingering looks; the kisses are unimportant, a social nicety forced upon us by a society obsessed with meaningless gestures.
alright, i'll admit, i'm insane. but this rant has been on the edge of my consciousness for years now, subtly waiting its turn in the convulsive processes of my brain. this is not aimed at any of my French friends, in whom this habit is as deeply ingrained as it is in me. i would never dream of going against tradition; it is simply too small a matter to face the lengthy explanations and puzzled/hurt glances that would inevitably result. among friends, the kisses are good, warm. my objection is with those for whom no such feelings exist, acquantainces, distant relatives. perhaps i'm tainted by my long years of affection-isolation. perhaps i've grown bitter at my own lengthy imprisonment in a theatre of rituals and barely-touching fingertips. but from my friends, give me hugs. from strangers, respect my personal space. please.
a handshake, to me, has always seemed more heartfelt, more acceptable. it is a binding, a tie of two people into one momentary entity with one goal, one flesh. even a bow is preferable; it conveys respect, admiration, a connection. but the French double-kiss leaves me cold.
now, for those who don't know me, i am French. my family is French. holiday seasons are made up of an endless string of these kisses. left cheek, right cheek, hands on shoulders. glasses knocking together, someone mistaking which direction to take first, height differences, and other sundry things make it awkward, dreaded. uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents. everyone subjected to the meaningless ritual, an endless procession of relatives awaiting the seal of social approval before the gathering can begin. and again it looms, at the end of the evening, a ritual of leave-taking without any real ties, no emotional investment. emotion is reserved for hugs or lingering looks; the kisses are unimportant, a social nicety forced upon us by a society obsessed with meaningless gestures.
alright, i'll admit, i'm insane. but this rant has been on the edge of my consciousness for years now, subtly waiting its turn in the convulsive processes of my brain. this is not aimed at any of my French friends, in whom this habit is as deeply ingrained as it is in me. i would never dream of going against tradition; it is simply too small a matter to face the lengthy explanations and puzzled/hurt glances that would inevitably result. among friends, the kisses are good, warm. my objection is with those for whom no such feelings exist, acquantainces, distant relatives. perhaps i'm tainted by my long years of affection-isolation. perhaps i've grown bitter at my own lengthy imprisonment in a theatre of rituals and barely-touching fingertips. but from my friends, give me hugs. from strangers, respect my personal space. please.
