® You're not hearing this from me
The second quickest way to get
my attention is to say, "I
shouldn't be telling you this,
but ... " (Note: this is second only to:
"Don't look now, but there's an espe-
cially hairy tarantula crawling up the
back of your shirt." And it's a close
second.)
Most people I know don't like to
use the word "gossip." While disdain
for the word transcends gender, I've
noticed that males and females tend
to dislike it for different reasons.
First, the guys: Guys see gossip as
a woman's domain: An activity suit-
able for 13-year-old girls at slumber
parties, high school-age jezebels out
to destroy the head cheerleader and
nosy old ladies with nothing better to
do than sit on their porches and watch
the neighbors. But not suitable for
men. Men, my male friends insist, do
not gossip. They hang out. They chill.
Sometimes, they even shoot the bull.
But no gossiping. Gossip's too girly.
Too emasculating. It sounds too much
like, "Do these pants make me look
fat?"
Many of my female friends also
scorn the term. They think "gossip"
makes them sound like that heavily
made-up, gum-snapping peroxide
blond from every sitcom and bad
movie in history - the one that
always bursts in at just the wrong
time and shouts, "Oh my gawd! Have
you heard?"
As part of my ongoing effort to
obliterate stereotypes and improve
human relationships, I feel it's time to
set the gossip record straight.
First of all, gossip is not a No
Boys Allowed arena. I have guy
friends who can (and often do) gossip
me under the table. I've bonded with
them over unhealthy food in the mid-
dle of the night and, believe me,
they're no less manly for it.
Secondly, most
people don't seem
to know the differ-
ences between a
"gossip" and
"lo ud m ou th."
There are several,
but the biggest
one is that loud-
mouths will tell
AUBREY your secret to any
HENRETTY and everyone if
N U r , left unchecked. If
you threaten them
with bodily harm, they will tell only
one person. But it will be the person
most likely to relay the information to
the last person you want to know
about it.
Gossips are slightly more consid-
erate. True gossips know everyone's
six degrees by heart and will be tor-
tured and maimed before blabbing to
the wrong person. They know it's safe
to share family gossip with their
roommates (unless their roommates
are loudmouths), roommate gossip
with their co-workers, co-worker gos-
sip with their families and so on.
Also, gossips won't tell just anybody
just anything. They understand that
some stories are too personal to
repeat.
Another difference is that loud-
mouths are only in it for the scandal.
They are not interested in your per-
sonal life until you do something that
will elicit horror and/or incredulity
from everyone they're planning to
tell. On the contrary, gossips are in it
for the details; they appreciate the
drama in every situation. Consequent-
ly, people tend to avoid loudmouths
and seek out gossips when they have
juicy stories to share.
As an avid gossip, I know this to
be true. I also know that "I shouldn't
be telling you this, but ... " is actually
three different statements, depending
upon which word is italicized. "I
shouldn't be telling you this, but"
means that "I" is your friend and feels
you should have this information, but
has reservations about being the one
to tell you. "I shouldn't be telling you
this, but ... " means that telling you
goes against "I's" better judgment.
The "this" might hurt your feelings.
"I shouldn't be telling you this means
that the information will benefit you
immensely, but people other than "I"
are trying to keep it from you. No
matter the inflection, the "but" guar-
antees that the info is on the way.
Don't get me wrong: Being privy
to sensitive information does have its
drawbacks. Sometimes, that which
follows "but" is highly unpleasant
and can induce nightmares. Like an
unlikely and/or grotesque hook up
involving two people you know.
Aaack! Why did you tell me that?
Honestly, some people just don't
know when to keep their mouths shut.
-AubreyHenetty's column runs every
other Monday. She can be reached via
e-mail at ahenrettCumich.edu.
On visiting the place
s I write this column, I am
attempting to secure travel
gements from Jordan into
Palestine/Israel. As of yet, I have been
unable to do so.
The past few days have been
extremely emotional for me. After fin-
ishing a 12-hour flight from New York
to Amman, Jordan, I was ready to drink
some bottled water (those of you who
have traveled overseas know why you
have to drink bottled water) and take a
long nap. But it of course was not to be,
as my father, mother, two sisters and I
were immediately met at the airport
gates by family and friends who took us
to the house we are staying at, fed us
and made sure we had everything
worked out (which we did not).
While I am Palestinian, my roots in
Jordan are deep. After being expelled as
a refugee at the age of one month in
1948 as a result of the creation of the
state of Israel, my father was raised and
attended university in Amman. Amman
was his home in exile, and it was also
the place of my birth. At the age of
three, amid my father's political "dis-
agreements" with the government of
Jordan, I became a refugee and was
subsequently raised just outside of
Philadelphia, PA (Incidentally, the
ancient Roman name for the city of
Amman was "Philadelphia"). When it
comes down to it, my father and his
families were expelled from Palestine
in 1948 for being Palestinian and
expelled from Jordan in 1980 for acting
Palestinian.
A few days ago, for the firat time
in twenty years, I entered my child-
of my birth
hood neighborhood. In Arabic, its
name is Jabal al-Hashimi al-Shamaali.
I was born there and spent the first
three years of my life living in a small
apartment as my father began a career
as a professor in the University of Jor-
dan.
The neighbor-
hood was and still
is a lower-class
area. The people
are poor, work is
generally hard to
find and all the
vices of tough
urban life are pres-
ent. Yet when I
first stepped foot
AMER G. into my old apart-
ZAHR ment building, a
THE strange feeling
X ;Rt:%C::' rushed through
me. I felt a sense
of strange belong-
ing, and as I made the rounds to all our
old neighbors, they transferred to me a
feeling of being "home." My father,
mother and I must have drank five cups
of coffee and cold drinks as we could
leave no neighbor's house without at
least drinking something small.
My neighborhood, when I was
growing up, was almost exclusively
Palestinian, mainly consisting of
refugees from my father's birth town of
Jaffa (now Tel Aviv in Israel). Amman
today is, by most estimates, about three-
quarters Palestinian. This is, in a nut-
shell, the Palestinian story. Living in
townsand cities where either we don't
belong, are made to feel we don't
belong and, most times, both. Amman
holds a special place in my heart, as itis
where I constructed my earliest memo-
ries. ButI am also aware that I should
have never have been born in Amman.
My father should have not have traveled
upon the feet of my grandmother from
her hometown to there.
The vast majority of Palestinians in
Amman live at or near the poverty
level, with a select few living with
extreme wealth, yet many tens of thou-
sands more living in UN refugee
camps. I visited these camps and
attempted to talk with some of the resi-
dents, whom I found to be extremely
hospitable and open despite their physi-
cally and emotionally depressing living
conditions. Their smiling kindness and
warmth was almost unexplainable, and
their Palestinianness is stronger than
ever. Streets and stores are named not
after families or owners, but after Pales-
tinians villages and towns. They are the
ones who deserve self-determination
and not to be swept under the rug, by
any leadership: Israeli, Palestinian,
American or otherwise.
Only when the world - Israel and
America in particular -can fully grasp
the concept that these and other Pales-
tinians like them are human beings with
the same freedoms as anyone else, with
the same right to dignity as anyone else
and with more determination than any
of us could ever imagine, will there
ever be any kind of justice.
-Amer Zahr's column was writtenfrom
Jordan.LHe can be reached via
e-mail at zahrag~mnich.edu.
THE BOONDOCKS BY AARON MCGRUDER
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