A Place for Grief and Rage

As I read Rosaldo's essays, I kept thinking about my own concept and understanding of anger. I think, in many cases, I was raised in a home that expressed itself through silent rage--things fester and are mulled over by the individual, but the situation which caused the rage was rarely brought out in the open. When this did happen--most dramatically during my parents' fights, I automatically thought the worst: that this would be the end of the marriage, another divorce, etc etc.
I now realize that there was and should be an appropriate place for rage and anger to unfold in our lives. It's healthy and meaningful.
Some already know this, but I help with an organization based in Guatemala City that runs domestic violence advocacy programs for women and girls all over Central America. As one of the group's interpreters, what I've found is that most--if not all--of these women have been living under a shadow of silence and unspoken rage for the last thirty years (since the civil wars began). It was interesting to note Rosaldo's own placement of Christianity within the context of re-framing the Ilongot's anger. I think, in a similar way, the religious influence has served to pacify many aspects and expressions of the Central American woman's own anger. I know religion played a big role in my own nervousness and apprehension about facing my own griefs and passionate fits of rage.
I believe one of the key aspects of Rosaldo's essays that I take away is the assertion that ethnographic studies of a culture must be rooted and commented upon through personal experience. Yes, like the other essays infer, especially Geertz, we do look over the shoulders and thereby comment, but as Rosaldo points out, there are certain cultural aspects that cannot be fathomed by an outsider--they must be experienced before the observer even begins to comment. Anything less would perform a disservice to the culture being observed.

--Julie Lauterbach-Colby