Language Barrier

“Offending someone is a two-way street. There is a party who is offended and we have to determine if that is a subjective feeling or if someone actually did something wrong, especially if it was intentional. Often times, however, I learn that there was no harm done. People get offended because someone didn’t agree with them or someone challenged them. They become defensive and sensitive about the situation. Their feelings are not invalid but that doesn’t mean that the problem is with the other party either.” Lotus B., from LinkedIn

I inadvertently offended someone in a seemingly innocent Facebook post yesterday; I honestly had no idea that what I was saying was offensive! Rather than being “offended by having been called offensive,” I would rather make it right and learn from it.

Mind you, some of my political posts are meant to offend, but certainly not my banjo posts! I realize that someone of my generation might not have been offended (at least nobody else said anything), so maybe it was simply a language barrier between the generations? I apologize if I have offended anyone else (of any generation) by my word choices; it is not intentional. I won’t be offended if you call me an “old fogey” or “language challenged”; maybe I am. Young at heart, but old and ignorant at habits and language. My generation simply wishes to remain relevant and to pass on our decades of experience and insight before we’re gone. We do know a few things after all, and are happy and eager to help! Please don’t let our unintended offense get in the way.

I was young and easily offended at one time myself! I got tired of being told “you’re doing it wrong” (mind you, I was more often encouraged) and it drove me away from the banjo for a while. Most of the time, that message was implied (if not outright stated) in the older person’s dated language. Or maybe the receiver (me!) just took it wrong or was simply looking to be offended; maybe all that person really wanted to do was to help me become a better banjo player (whether I wanted the “advice” or not)! Now, at that time, the “old folks” were the original Jazz Age players, so they ought to have known if we were doing it right or wrong; now I wish they were still here to help us all. My generation will never have that kind of originality cache, but at least we learned face-to-face from the originators. That has to mean something.

In retrospect, I regret having been offended by that generation’s well-meaning attempts to help. We can never get them back. My advice to the younger generations? Take advice from your “elders” with a grain of salt, and realize they don’t (can’t) speak the same language. We are not the enemy—at least not intentionally. This goes for life in general, not just the banjo. And don’t you dare say “okay Boomer!”

I read an online article several years ago about how young people had “discovered” Trad Jazz—a long-neglected, 100-year-old tradition. I have to say, I was a bit offended by it: I’ve been here all my life playing and promoting this music; how dare you claim “discovery?” The article was obviously written by a young person who had no idea we existed. Offense is a two-way street; I don’t think I ever did that at that age, but I regret it if I did.

Part of what I have been trying to do with my banjo blogs is stir the pot a bit. I think that we older banjo players have grown complacent. We see our numbers diminishing and wish we could attract more young people, but then it becomes apparent that our language, actions, and best intentions drive them away instead. Is it the music, the banjo, or is it us? There’s nothing I can do to change the music or the banjo (that’s up to the next generation), so I will try to fix myself; that’s all any of us can do.

I have tried to be responsive the few times that I have offended with a perhaps too-assertive blog or statement. Sometimes it has been me—sometimes it has just been taken wrong. Either way, it’s on me to make it right—having been the one who initiated the offense. If I have offended you in the past and you haven’t said anything (pictures or it didn’t happen!), please message me in private and say something! You have to meet me halfway; I will do my best to do so as well.

I already agonize over every word I write, but I will try to tighten it up more; if I fail, please tell me (preferably in private). I would rather take my chances than shut up and not say anything. I spent most of my life staying quiet and watching while things fell apart around me. I can no longer in good conscience do so. Let’s fix this language barrier before it’s too late. Preserving the banjo—as it was, and how it could be—is too important.