A social experiment

Public displays of matrimonial commitment and their effect on incidences of sexual harassment: A case study

by AE Challinor

Introduction

Within the Orthodox Christian church and some East Asian cultures, it is tradition for married individuals to display their status with a band of precious metal worn on the third finger of their right hand ("ring finger"). This differs from non-Orthodox Christian and secular Western traditions, in which rings of commitment and legal or religious matrimonial status are worn almost exclusively on the ring finger of the left hand. When representatives of these two traditions meet, confusion as to an individual's romantic, social - or even economic - availability is possible.

The author (and subject) commonly wears a two-tone gold signet ring on the third finger of her right hand. (See Figure 1). In the past, this has led individuals from Orthodox or Eastern cultures to inquire as to her marital status and/or the whereabouts of her husband. As the author currently resides in the Republic of Georgia, an primarily Orthodox state, this confusion has been made acute. 

Figure 1

In an interview with a Georgian chiropractor in Los Angeles, California (conducted in August of 2010), the author was assured that "Georgian men will love you". This hypothesis has since been proven incorrect (paper forthcoming).

While the subject's peers have suggested the use of this ring as a form of "protection" against unwanted attention, this raises the question of the effectiveness of a ring on the "marriage finger" as a communications tool. Does a wedding band prevent uninvited romantic attention, sexual harassment or meddling from mother-surrogates? Similarly, does its absence encourage these same behaviours? This paper seeks to determine the effect of presumed wedding bands on the beliefs and attitudes of strangers in Orthodox Georgia.

Hypothesis

Subject will experience more romantic and/or sexual attention when the third finger on her right hand remains bare. The null hypothesis (H0) will be rejected.

Methodology

For a duration of fourteen days, subject removed ring from the third finger of her right hand, leaving no rings on any finger.

A control was previously conducted, for a duration of 2.5 months, during which the subject wore the stated ring on the stated finger in the stated state.

Observations

Subject observed no change in attitude from either acquaintances or strangers when compared to the control period. A small sample of car horns heard while the subject travelled along public thoroughfares was inconclusive, as car horns in Georgia are often utilized in place of brakes. 

Results

No incidents of sexual harassment or romantic interest were observed. Failure to reject null hypothesis.  

Subject also reported that the finger that previously held her ring felt "slightly weird", suggesting potential for follow-up research in phantom ring studies. 

Conclusion

Subject incapable of giving it away.

Fakesgiving

Kristen, I'm exhausted.

Thursday was American Thanksgiving (as you well know), and the Americans who took me in when I was homeless this summer hosted a dinner. Somehow, the Canadian was enlisted to cook. Or I volunteered. I can't remember anymore, it's been a long week.

As Canadian Thanksgiving proved, acquiring holiday-specific raw materials is difficult in Georgia. So we had some ingredients mailed from the US, and we scavenged and we hoarded and on Wednesday morning I was an accomplice in the killing of a turkey.

That day, one Canadian omnivore, one American vegetarian, and two Georgians (their preferences go without saying) drove to a market, inspected half a dozen birds, and chose one to be our dinner.

I'm going to tell you this story, but first a disclaimer: I eat meat. I love eating meat. I am not one of those omnivores who gets sad at the thought of animals dying and then eats meat anyway because they can't help themselves. I am not one of those pee-pants who says, "I know I should be a vegetarian but I just like bacon too much!"

No.

I have no moral, ethical, or health qualms with eating meat. It's not a default for me; this is something I've thought about and I do happily.

Some of the more militant vegetarians and vegans claim that if meat-eaters could only see where their food came from, they'd stop eating it. Well, I saw where my food comes from on Wednesday. And it only re-affirmed my commitment to eating stuff with a face.

Here's how it worked: We went to a market where people (mainly women) from nearby villages had set up their wares - chickens, turkeys, pigs, ducks and a few rabbits. We went from stall to stall, weighing and inspecting the turkeys, inquiring after their age and negotiating prices. Once we found a suitable one, the woman at the stall took it to a butchering stand, chopped off its head, let it bleed out, and dunked it in a pot of boiling water to release the feathers. She then stripped its feathers, and brought it back to her stall to remove the insides and feet. I watched all of this. It really wasn't that gross - and I cannot handle gory movies, or even listening to stories of other peoples' bodily harm. It was interesting! It prompted me to research turkey anatomy!

I told my turkey story to one of my classes, and they were absolutely unimpressed. They were like, "You've never seen a turkey butchered? *Scoff*" It reminds me of the time when my host family asked me why I wasn't eating any grapes. I don't like grapes in Georgia because they have seeds and so are more trouble than they're worth, even though grapes are the candy of the fruit world. I am completely pathetic, I know. So I explained this to my family by saying, "Life in Canada is very easy..."

(I also saw an enormous hog butchered, as well as a couple buckets of its insides. The two massive sets of ribs reminded me of my brother, who eats like Jethro Bodine and is a barbecued ribs monster. Hi John!).

Anyway, Thanksgiving Day. With plenty of help, I cooked a meal for a group that included Americans, Canadians, an Australian and a Georgian. Everyone had a great time and the food was largely a hit (including our turkey who, in all the excitement, I forgot to name). Two minor issues: The fully-cooked turkey went missing for approximately an hour and a half, and one of the large windows in the apartment shattered. So, a totally normal, insane day in Georgia.

Ho Hum II

A few more snippets from my everyday life...

I was at a party on Saturday night where I saw a 2-year-old drinking beer. Don't worry - it was his birthday.

I love the way that, when a parent with a small child gets on a marshutka, the other people on board grab the child to steady it, and often put it on a nearby seat or lap while the parent climbs aboard. This is completely normal, the parent never blinks an eye, and there are no howls of "THAT MOLESTER HAS MY BABY!". It's accepted that the people on the marshutka are going to make your child safer, rather than place it in harm's way. It is, I think, the sign of a healthy society.

A sign of an unhealthy society is the way some Georgians have concluded that the best place to count their change or check their cell phone is in store entrances or at the top of stairwells. No, it is not the best place to engage in those activities, so get the fuck out of my way. (I suppose it goes without saying that I walk much faster than most Georgians. I walk faster than most people, so obviously nothing is different here. To put it scientifically, if you and all Georgians and everyone you know under 6'4" walks at average pace - 5kph/3mph - then I walk at approximately the speed of sound).

There is a restaurant I frequent so often that all the staff recognize me. I'm a regular. I love becoming a regular of places (see also Osaka in Springfield, VA; Go Sushi in Milton, ON; Raavi Kebab in London, UK). Here's how often I'm there: one of the waitresses changed her hair recently, I noticed, complimented her, and she wasn't weirded out by this. (I also have a schwarma guy near work. Yeah, that's right, I have a schwarma guy. On a related note, I may eat too much schwarma).

The atrocious state of Tbilisi streets and sidewalks has nearly destroyed two pairs of my shoes (one, a pair of heels, may be too far gone to resole). That said, I have not, as of this writing, fallen down an unmarked sinkhole or hidden staircase.

I've gotten used to the toe-mangling speed of the Metro escalators; they seem slow to me now. I'm worried I'm going to have some sort of fit of impatience if I take an escalator in Canada. (Ha ha ha, I hear you laughing, when is Ashley not having a fit of impatience in Canada!).

The following video appeared in my facebook feed today, and it's reminiscent of the degradation of my own English. As much as I'm learning English grammar and sentence structure as I teach it, I'm also spending most of my time speaking slowly, simply and, sometimes, in a strange Georgian/English/Georgian-accent-in-English hybrid: I say "yes?" at the end of most questions I ask, I've picked up the Georgian habit of saying, "Of course, Eshli, of course!" whenever I say something obvious, I sometimes drop articles and pick up incorrect syntax in an effort to make new speakers understand me by using their own butchered English, etc. It's a dangerous habit!

Anyway, comedy:

Ho Hum

I found an article from the New York Times Travel section that is the closest representation I've found to my life in Georgia. Read it here. (The caveat being that is was written in 2006, which is practically a lifetime ago in post-Revolution Georgia).

I was going to write something about how I haven't been doing anything exciting lately, so have nothing to share with you on my blog. But that undermines the honesty and purpose of keeping this blog - I have a job, and a routine, but those things exist in Georgia - and so the mundane is just as important as the spectacular when it comes to explaining myself.

So here's some of the mundane:

I experienced a couple of blackouts this week, which is unusual in Tbilisi (or, unusual in the central, important parts of the city - no offense Avchala!). If I still had a Twitter account, I would have tweeted: "Blackouts in Tbilisi. What is this, 1994? #tasteless #postrevolutionentitlementsyndrome"

Also, if I still had a Twitter account, I would tweet at Joss Whedon and ask him why he's thanked in the Acknowledgments section of my Cutting Edge Starter textbooks. That's an out-of-left-field mystery if I ever encountered one.

I had a disastrous Tuesday, that culminated in a hat trick of Tbilisi nonsense - not being able to find a specific store because of a lack of street signs, building numbers, and a strong enough command of Georgian; having to cancel dinner plans because the restaurant we had planned to eat at was shuttered, all online evidence to the contrary; and a taxi driver who ignored my directions and took me to where he thought I wanted to go, as opposed to where I explicitly told him to go. I've decided that if most cabs weren't stick shift, I'd just tell the drivers to get in the backseat because three months of living in this city has given me a better understanding of its geography than their qualifications (being Georgian, having a car).

It's possible that there is video of me shooting a modified M-4 on Georgian reality TV. There's a reality show being shot at the police academy, and they were filming some scenes in the firearms training simulator when a few of us teachers dropped by to check it out. Hopefully they won't use the footage of me because the "Hollywood" group is so much more attractive and melodramatic.

I found a fruit that looks like a lime on the outside and a tangerine on the inside, that's wonderfully bold and tart, and that makes the perfect addition to a gin and tonic.

...and now I have to catch the Metro, to go to tutoring, because that's Friday night in Tibs, homes.

Photos IV: The Revenge

A handful of new photos are up on facebook; link here. A taste, from my trip to an archaeological dig outside Dmonisi:

Also, I came across this the other day, and I used it to demoralize (and amuse!) one of my classes:

*  *  *

In other news, I'm planning some trips for when I return in 2012. I'd love to get to Turkey before Christmas, to do some gift shopping, but I'm not sure that it's feasible. What I am devoted to doing is visiting Bakuriani in January or February, and going tobogganing. I'd also like to take advantage of some rumored cheap flights and visit Dubai - it's a three hour flight, and I'm sure will be a warm, impossibly decadent escape from frozen Georgia this winter.

True Tales of Teaching English to Legal Adults

Things I've said to my students on test day:
"If I tell you to shut up and you don't, I'm going to rip up your test and tell you to leave."
"Don't bother asking your friends for help; they don't know the answers."
"Stop talking! You're just giving him the wrong answers!"
"Please stop making my life harder."

Student: "Are you married?"
Me: "No."
Student: "Why not?"

Student: "Is that your real hair?"
Me: "Yes."
Student: "Can I touch it?"

Student, who has not bothered to show up for any class save the first: "You give us exam to look at?"
Me: "No!"
Student: "Why not??"

Me, to students talking during a test: "Stop cheating!"
Student: "But we were not talking about the test!"
My mind: (boggled)

Student: "I am not eating... I am on past for holiday."
Me: "Do you mean a fast?"
Student: "No, it is past."
Me: "You're confusing 'p' and 'f''; don't worry, a lot of Georgians do it."
Student: "Are you sure? I think it is past."

Student: "Putin is a mozerpucker."
Me: "If you're going to use that word, at least pronounce it correctly. Mo-TH-er-FU-ck-er."

Student: "T, U, V, W, SEX, Y, Z." (entire class giggles)
Me: (dies inside)