Tag Archives: coming of age

The Shotgun

Age: 21

Collected 4/22/2026

Context:

My roommate, who is of Irish-American descent, told me the story of when he first went shooting. We met in high school and have been friends for about 8 years now. He told me in our apartment kitchen after asking about his family traditions.

Text:

His family first immigrated to New York in the 1800s. About a century later, he told me that his great-grandpa bought a “classic Baretta double-barreled shotgun like you’d see in Red Dead” for hunting ducks in Maryland. Nowadays, my roommate and his dad often go hunting in the woods in Montana, and he fondly remembers that core memory with his dad of when he first learned to shoot.

My roommate told me that back when he was 15, his dad took him to a gun range in Lake Piru, California, to learn how to shoot. The event wasn’t specifically on his birthday or any particular day, as he can remember. But it was sometime soon after he turned 15. In his family, “each male for the last 3 generations has learned to shoot the same double-barreled shotgun.” The shotgun is a family heirloom that he suspects his Irish immigrant great-great-grandfather bought, for hunting and it’s been passed down steadily from father to son.

While at the range, his dad started with gun safety. Essentially, just the basics, like “don’t aim it at people or things you don’t wanna shoot.” He also learned to respect the weapon, “don’t treat it like a toy,” and not to throw it around or handle it roughly. As far as he knows, the shotgun has been largely kept in good condition, and most, if not all, of the parts are original. The wood stock and grip are lacquered with oils to keep it clean and in good condition. When it finally came time to shoot, his father showed him how to stand and helped him aim. When he pulled the trigger, the gun went off, but he found out that it was loaded with a blank. He told me that he and his dad first shot a blank to get a feel for the recoil.

After handling the recoil, he began to shoot at the clay pigeons launched in the air at the range. He said his dad wanted to teach him how to hunt, so moving targets were a great way to get into it. After shooting, he explained that his dad showed him how to clean and take care of the gun. Later, when he turned 18, he was allowed to have his own gun under different state laws. He hasn’t shot the shotgun since; it serves as a ceremonial piece.

I asked him if there was a specific time or moment when he learned, but he can’t remember. But he did say it was a moment when he started to feel more grown up. He told me that his sister also learned how to shoot. He couldn’t say whether she got the exact same treatment. But their father took her to a local range and taught her to shoot the same shotgun.

I asked if he would continue the tradition. He told me “that he plans to “of- course man.” The shotgun will be passed to him and he plans to pass it to his kids when they’re born and ready. He feels that the passing of the shotgun and the instruction in how to shoot are a metaphor for life. He and his family “value being responsible and self-sufficient.” He said it felt pretty special to be the fifth in his family to hold and shoot the gun. As the sole male child and heir to the family name, he felt it was a really special moment to step into the shoes that his family had left. To fulfill expectations and continue the legacy.

Analysis:

This was a cool story to hear; my roommate hadn’t told me about it before, and I’ve known him for around 8 years now. It was a pretty nice story and makes sense because his family has a strong military background dating back 3 generations. Shooting, hunting, gun safety, and responsibility are all very important to him and to his family.

I think the ritual serves three main functions besides bonding. The first and more obvious is that the ritual serves as a lesson in gun safety. It’s a father teaching his son how to properly hold and shoot a weapon. He learned discipline and responsibility, and it made him interested in the responsible use of weapons at a young age. It teaches real safety skills for young people and taught him the power and potential danger of weapons.

I think an equally important purpose for this event is to serve as a passing of the family legacy. Family is a big thing for him; he cares a lot about that lineage and is proud of where he comes from. The fact that the same gun has been used by all the males in his family says a lot. It is their legacy, their transition into adulthood, and their father passed that legacy to him so he could learn what it means to be a male in their family. His sister also learned and got the same experience. But my roommate said she isn’t as interested in the legacy, shooting, or the shotgun as he is. Also, he will inherit the weapon, not his sister. By learning with that gun, he is an active participant in that tradition and now a part of that shared family history. He remarked that it felt really special to him to be part of that. I asked him, and he explained that he did have a connection to that story. But for him, the most important thing it did for him was teach him responsibility.

The gun itself is also a physical representation of that legacy. It has existed for over a century and serves as a marker of his family. Sure, other guns exist, but this is his family’s gun. He adds meaning to it by using it, continuing that legacy, and being interested in teaching his children how to shoot that gun.

A final, deeper meaning is that the lesson served as a rite of passage for young men in his family. In a way, it created a liminal space to help facilitate the transition of children to young men. The lessons it taught him about weapon safety carry over to real life. Being disciplined, respectful, self-sufficient, and responsible are all qualities that he holds dear. He and I agree that those values probably stem from the family’s deep military history. Those are all imparted to him through that event.

It’s also interesting to me that I just found out about this. I knew he knew how to shoot, but I didn’t know it was such a significant family tradition. I know a lot about him since we’ve known each other for 8 years, but that story seems to be sacred and personal. It’s also funny because at first glance, my friend doesn’t look like someone who would have traditions. He grew up in a suburban neighborhood in what our other roommate would call a “boring” neighborhood. But this just showed me how much folklore and culture are lying just under the surface. I’ve known him for so long, but all I had to do was ask, and it seemed there was more to my friend that I hadn’t learned.

It also challenges my pre-existing notion that folklore is foreign or unique to a specific identity. Folklore is all around us; we just forget to pay attention because it’s “normal” or we’re used to it. I mean, this is a dude who’s got red, white, and blue coursing through his veins, and yet he has some great traditions. This is just a great reminder that folklore is often studied from a distance because the stuff close to us blends so well into our daily lives.

High School Coming-of-Age Rite

Text:

H: “Each class had its color, like I was the yellow class. So there was like a spirit day where you all wore your colors and at the end of the day, the seniors would jump in [a big fountain on the school’s campus] first and with all their kilts on – like our uniform kilts – and no one else was allowed to wear their kilt. And like they were allowed to go in the water like class by class you went in. So like senior, junior, sophomore, freshman, but like only the seniors could wear their kilt. And that was like a fun thing to jump in the pool ’cause like you weren’t really, the pool wasn’t used. It wasn’t like used for swim practice; it was only used this day. Yeah, it was like a fountain type thing. So yeah, if you were senior, you could wear your kilt. And I remember one year, like a freshman wore her kilt and she was like heavily trash talked, ’cause you’re not supposed to do that. It’s like a respect thing.“

Context:

H went to an all-girls high school in Philadelphia. Every grade level was assigned a color, and on spirit day they would wear their colors and jump into the school’s fountain in grade level order. However, only seniors were allowed to jump into the fountain wearing their kilt – a special piece of the school uniform.

Analysis:

High school seniors exist in a space of liminality: they are in-between youth and adulthood. Because they exist in the doorway between identities, many rites of passages are created to celebrate and commemorate the time. “Communitas” is created because of the special bond seniors form together as they transpire the liminality between youth and adulthood. This establishes sacredness of rites of passage. They are something to be earned that one cannot attain prior to their own existence in liminality. That is why students at H’s school would become very upset if a non-senior wore their kilt while jumping into the fountain – the ritual is being broken and its sacredness is being tarnished.

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. 

South Sudanese Dinka Face Sacrifice Ritual

Text:

Among the Dinka people of South Sudan, young men traditionally undergo forehead scarification as a rite of passage into adulthood. This practice involves making six to eight deep, V-shaped cuts across the forehead using a sharp blade or razor, often performed without the use of anesthetic. The process is public, ceremonial, and witnessed by members of the community. The scars, once healed, form a permanent pattern that serves as a visible marker of the transition from boyhood to manhood. Boys who complete the ritual are celebrated and granted new social responsibilities and recognition.

Context:

This was shared with me by a friend from South Sudan whose grandfather underwent the ritual. She described the ceremony as both terrifying and honorable. She explained that although the ritual is extremely painful and intimidating, it is considered a great honor. For her granfather, it was the defining moment that earned him respect not only within their village but also within the family. The ceremony took place in front of elders, friends, and family members, and afterward, he was given new privileges, including a say in village matters and the right to marry.

Interpretation:

This tradition shows how the Dinka people value strength, bravery, and community. The scars are not just about appearance, they tell a story of growing up and earning respect. Going through pain is seen as a way to prove you are ready for adult life. Today, fewer Dinka boys go through the ritual, especially those who move away from South Sudan. This shows how culture can change over time, especially when people live in new places. Still, the meaning behind the ritual stays strong for many families.

Debut (18th Birthday)

Nationality: Filipino American
Age: 23
Occupation: Student
Residence: Cerritos, CA

Text 

“When I turned 18, I had a debut. It is basically a Filipino coming-of-age celebration. It’s like a quinceañera but at 18. For Filipinos, it’s a big deal. Turning 18 means you’re entering adulthood, so you’re presented to your family and community with all the grace and glamor of a princess. 

The most memorable part of my debut was the 18 roses and 18 candles.

The 18 Roses are dances. 18 men, usually dads, cousins, and guy friends, each danced with me one by one. They handed me a rose and sometimes say a short message. It can get pretty emotional.

The 18 Candles are when 18 girls or women light a candle and give a short speech about me. Some speeches were funny, and others were mini love letters from my closest friends. It was a way of seeing myself through the eyes of people who had known me my whole life, and it really stuck with me. 

I didn’t grow up in the Philippines, but doing the debut made me feel connected to that part of me.”

Context 

The informant is a second-generation daughter who celebrated her debut at age 18 with a full program including traditional elements like 18 Roses and 18 Candles. She emphasized that while she was raised in the United States, the debut helped her feel connected to her Filipino heritage. 

My interpretation 

The debut functions as a coming-of-age rite that is both performative and symbolic. In folkloristic terms, it marks a liminal moment, a passage from girlhood into adult social identity that is celebrated through structured ritual acts. 

The debut reinforces intergenerational values, especially within diasporic settings where tradition must be actively chosen and adapted. The event also serves as a space of collective storytelling as speeches and dances become public affirmations of the debutante’s identity, relationships, and future. Through these performances, the community participates in shaping the celebrant’s transition, offering both affirmation and expectation.