Category Archives: Childhood

Turkish Circumcision

Age: 21

Text:

“When I was getting circumcision, all the people was watching me, actually. If I remember, I was in my parents room and a doctor came, and he started, doing a circumcision, to me – actually, that day, my grandpa. called me like my grandpa was over there. They give me a shot to my balls, like local anaesthesia, and I was six, and I remember I didn’t feel anything there, you know. And I was like, freaking out. And I escaped from the house. I started running, and my grandpa catch me, and he told me that, ‘hey, you’re not gonna do it right now. They’re gonna do it in the army. They’re gonna do it in the military, and they do it with the axe, when you’re 20.’ I was like, what? I’m like, I was so scared, you know, I’m like, ‘Okay, I should go back, I guess.’ Because I was so scared. In Turkey, military is mandatory, you don’t have a choice. I was like, forcing, and I went back, and I just made them do it. And as I said, I was like, six, – I have a video too. When I was getting a circumcision, and my aunts were coming in the room, my uncles were coming in the room, you know, they were just watching me. I’m like, and I didn’t know that much, you know, what’s going on. I remember, we do have food and stuff. People is coming more like our inner circle people, like Inner Inner Circle family. They come in and they eat some stuff, you know, and be celebrating that in the hall, in the home, too.”

Context:

“I didn’t know if it’s, like, very important thing, you know, and I didn’t know that much, but I knew that for my grandpa, for example, it was very important”

Analysis: 

This account of the Turkish sünnet (circumcision) ritual, emphasizes both its emotional weight and its communal significance. The informant’s memory blends fear, confusion, and performance, as the procedure becomes not only a medical event but a public spectacle within the family home. The presence of relatives, the filming of the moment, and the celebratory food all reflect the integration of private bodily transformation with familial observation and tradition. His grandfather’s comment—framing circumcision as a necessary precursor to avoid a harsher military version—reflects how elders use symbolic threats and traditional authority to uphold cultural rites. While the child at the center doesn’t fully understand the ritual’s meaning, he perceives its importance through the seriousness with which his elders treat it. 

Korean 100-Day Celebration

Age: 22

Text: Baek-il (백일) or “100 Days” is a traditional celebration in South Korea. It marks the 100th day after a baby’s birth, traditionally celebrated to honor the child’s survival through a once-vulnerable time. Once celebrating a day of survival, it’s slowly transitioned into a day that is more jolly and focuses on a child’s future.

Context: “In Korean culture, there’s a special celebration when a baby turns 100 days old. My cousin had a party for her baby’s baek-il and I actually got to experience one that wasn’t mine. There was a big spread of food, rice cakes, and the close family wore traditional hanbok. It was partly a family celebration, but also had this deep respect for the baby surviving the most fragile part of infancy, so many close friends were invited to come. During this ceremony, another mini-event is held called Doljaebi where a number (usually 6-8) of career symbolic items are placed in front of the baby (i.e. gavel for judge, stethoscope for doctor, money for a rich life) and the baby is encouraged by the crowd to choose an object for their future career.

Analysis: Baek-il is a significant Korean ritual marking a child’s 100th day of life, historically rooted in a time when infant mortality was high. Reaching this milestone was cause for gratitude and hope. The ritual blends celebration with protection, often involving food offerings and prayers. Even in modern times, it represents continuity with tradition, anchoring new life within family and cultural heritage. It has now transitioned to more of a ritual that celebrates what a child will become in the future now that they are “full of new life” through the doljaebi. It’s tone has moved from a more tense one to a more joyous and public ritual.

“For beauty, you must suffer.”

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Text:
When A was in high school and had pimples, her mother would pop them for her. Whenever A complained that it hurt, her mother would respond, “For beauty, you must suffer.”

Context:
The informant, A, recalls hearing this phrase frequently from her mother, especially during moments involving personal grooming that were physically uncomfortable, like popping pimples or plucking eyebrows. While A understood that her mother meant it lightheartedly, it also reflected a deeper, often unspoken expectation around beauty standards. A noted that this phrase extended beyond skincare. For example, her mother would say it when discussing the discomfort of wearing heels or shapewear like Spanx.

Analysis:
This phrase highlights how societal beauty standards, specifcally for women, are often tied to discomfort or even pain. The expectation is that beauty requires sacrifice, whether it’s enduring physical discomfort or investing significant time and effort. It reinforces the idea that beauty is an achievement rather than an inherent trait, one that must be worked for and maintained. The fact that the phrase was passed down from mother to daughter goes to show how these standards are often perpetuated within families, sometimes without conscious reflection. Ultimately, the saying reflects a broader cultural narrative about the price of fitting into conventional ideals of beauty.

Masquarade (Mmanwu)

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Story:

The informant explained that seeing a masquerade (Mmanwu) for the first time is something you never forget. She remembered being about seven or eight years old during a festival. The whole village was celebrating when the deep sound of the ikoro drum rang out which meant the Mmanwu were coming. She held onto her mother’s wrapper as the masquerade appeared. She had always been told that Mmanwu were spirits of the ancestors, but at that moment, all she felt was fear.

She recalls the Mmanwu suddenly running toward the children. Everyone screamed and scattered. She ran as fast as she could, losing her slippers in the sand. Her uncle laughed and called out, “Run! Mmanwu will catch you!” And in that moment, she said she truly believed it would.

She said that later, her mother just laughed and told her it was all part of the tradition. Looking back, she found it funny too, but she still respected the power of the Mmanwu.

Context:

The informant is an elderly Igbo woman who grew up in a traditional village in southeastern Nigeria. She recalls this childhood experience of seeing a masquerade (Mmanwu) for the first time during a festival. She had heard about Mmanwu from her elders, who explained that they represent ancestral spirits. As a child, she believed the spirits were real and feared being taken away. Now, as an elderly, she sees it as an important cultural tradition and laughs at her childhood fear.

My Interpretation:

The informant’s experience with the masquerade chase shows how these traditions mix fear and respect for the spirits. The masquerades aren’t just part of the festival for fun, they are seen as powerful spiritual figures. The fear the informant felt reflects how these spirits are both respected and feared by the community. Even though she was scared at the time, the memory helped her appreciate the importance of these ancestral figures in her culture.

Snow Traditions 2

Nationality: American
Age: 14
Occupation: High School Student
Residence: Morris Plains, NJ, USA
Language: English

These were local rituals done to bring about a snow day. Kids would pressure each other to do them before bed, hoping the more people who did them, the more likely it would be that a snowstorm came. 

“I remember when we first turned our pjs inside out before bed. [J](his brother) told me about it for the first time. We turned our pjs inside out, flushed ice cubes down the toilet, and put a spoon under our pillows. All of these done with a lot of people hopefully would bring more snow to town. I remember telling a big group of friends they had to send pictures of their inside-out PJs and spoons under pillows to their moms to send to my mom.” 

This ritual doesn’t have a designated time besides whenever a kid can’t take another day of school. These rituals are passed between friends mainly in cold communities. The peer pressure to participate is very interesting because it shows the heavy belief these kids take in turning pajamas inside out or putting a spoon under their pillow. Kids are very superstitious before they learn how the world works scientifically. Most people grow out of these superstitions after they learn about precipitation.