"Claire is better at understanding Turkish..."

"... than you, Jessica."
"Claire, you get more Turkish than Jessica."
"Claire knows more Turkish than Jessica."
"Jessica, why don't you speak Turkish like Claire?"

I have heard these statements or some derivation thereof at least four times a week since Claire and I moved to Bolu from orientation in Ankara. Claire and I lived together, we spend a lot of time together still, so naturally our colleagues, our friends, and people who work in the places we go see us together a lot. It's a common inclination to distinguish between two people whose lives are so interrelated-- so, why not try to differentiate between Claire and me?

I'm taking the time to write about this because it became a huge problem for me. I don't have thick skin, especially in the context of a learning problem: I couldn't understand why people would go out of their way to let me know my Turkish learning was insufficient, I was sure that people thought I was incompetent or worse, that I didn't care about their language.

Then I decided I wouldn't let it be a problem for me any longer. I will be attempting to follow-through on this decision here.

Comparison gives rise to competition. This is not a place for defensiveness, justification, or excuses. I want to acknowledge the truth of these statements, and then I plan to reject these statements and what they stand for.

If we consider adjectives, "better" is the comparative mode of "good" (and "best" is the superlative mode, just to round off). For example: Claire is good at Turkish. And she is! And she deserves to be: she wants this language acquisition very, very badly; she's working really hard at it; and she has a gift for language. Claire is good at Turkish-- and I am really happy for her. She's sitting on my couch right now, and I can look over at her and say, yes, I am completely happy for (and proud of) her that she is accomplishing one of her main goals her with good success.

Now, what happens when people use "better" with us is that it inevitably implies a "worse" (the comparative form of "bad"). That's me. And I won't deny it. I have no excuses, justifications, reasons, anything. Don't forget that I failed out of two quarters of graduate school and had to make those up. I will acknowledge what I lack and look hard at it.

And I can say that right now, Claire is good at Turkish learning. And I can also say that right now, I am not learning Turkish as fast and as well as I (or others, apparently) want.

But are the two connected?

Does Claire's success mean my lack thereof? Does she look better in the eyes of our colleagues and friends because my attempts at Turkish are hilarious and appalling?

We spend too much of our lives comparing ourselves to others. This is an activity that does not serve us. On the contrary: comparison poisons our relationships to others, and it deranges the basis of our self-worth. Comparison means that we consistently evaluate ourselves on standards that are not our own when we should use the measuring-rods in our heads to perceive ourselves. And how can we judge others? (This is actually not a question for which I have any semblance of an answer. Making an evaluation of a person based on observation is sometimes necessary for survival, or for making friends, or for knowing who's going to throw you under the bus at work, and etcetera.)

I used to keep this poster from the CrimethInc Workers' Collective on my bathroom mirror, and I think the quote is as applicable to this situation as it is to looking at your reflection: "Beauty must be defined as what we are, or else the concept itself is our enemy. To see beauty is simply to learn the private language of meaning which is another's life-- to recognize and relish what is. Why languish in the shadow of a standard we cannot personify, an ideal we cannot live?"

We become our own enemies when we compare ourselves to others. Why would we do this to ourselves? It's an incredibly easy cycle to get ourselves into, especially if we usually compare favorably against others. In fact, this is the greastest, most subtle poison: telling ourselves that according to these social, normative standards we think smarter, we run faster, we look prettier, we work harder, we learn better. Because inevitably we will meet the person whom we realize is smarter, faster, and prettier. And the self-worth we built up on the backs of others will be compromised.

So yes, my good friend Claire, my teammate, my comrade-in-arms in these incredibly confusing and wonderful times, is getting really good at Turkish. And I stumble along in her linguistic wake. And I'm fine with it, and I'm not.

I don't want to be better. I don't want to be worse. And I certainly don't want to be mediocre. I want to meet my standards for myself. I reject comparison. And I plan to learn Turkish. As I do.