I’m not sure I know how to forgive; I certainly haven’t had much practice at it. For forgiveness to be a possibility, there must first be a recognition – by the victim, the perpetrator, the people around them – that a wrong has been committed. But I come from a culture where women have few rights. What to them feels like a violation is usually considered standard behavior by everyone else. Women are oppressed by society and religion, by men, and by women older than themselves. They suffer the injustice silently, or whisper about it to each other. Sometimes, they may scream it out loud, but they’re crying in the wind. There’s no acknowledgement, no apology, no need really, to forgive.
That’s how I grew up and why I never gave much thought to forgiving anything or anyone. I could tell when an offense had been committed, but I didn’t learn to identify it publicly. I wasn’t even allowed to defend myself for fear that it would be construed as bad behavior. So I kept the anger close to my heart and went on. I think that’s what you call “holding a grudge.” It’s what the powerless do – what they resort to in the absence of any form of restitution.
I’ve had to teach myself, to train my aptitude for self-defense, to call a spade a spade and demand acknowledgement of it. Once that’s done, I have no trouble forgiving; in the absence of it, I may forget, but I won’t forgive.
Gina Nahai’s novels have been translated into 18 languages. She is the author of “Caspian Rain” and a professor of creative writing at USC. www.ginabnahai.com
