Silvio vs. Margaret

February 27, 2011

One of my Spanish translation clients is a brash, egotistical wannabe named Carlos. Carlos publishes magazines for posh hotels like the Ritz and for companies selling luxury goods. Translating for him is remarkable easy because any time I Google the first few sentences of any of the articles he “writes”, I can find them readymade; he basically lifts all his content and, of course, never cites sources.

Carlos fancies himself a wealthy, urbane flâneur. Yet every time I send him a bill, I have to send him multiple reminders to pay it, something I hate having to do. And then, to add insult to injury, his emails always say, “Dearest Mary, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” Unbearable. Yet at the same time he always begs me to lower my fees or translate small texts for free. I don’t know: maybe he is rich and his stinginess is what got him there. But I suspect he’s really what we call in Spanish a fantasma – literally a ‘ghost’, but what it actually means is someone who pretends to be something they’re not. Carlos the ghost. Carlos el fantasma.

Carlos’ magazines always contain the same sections: watches, jewelry, beauty, travel, yachts, and cars (often copied verbatim in his different magazines for different clients), perfect topics for his worldly, well-heeled, well-travelled audience. One day I was translating an article about cars for the magazine of a jewelry and watch shop on Majorca, and it ended with a sentence that jolted me out of my boredom. The sentence translated as: “Inside it’s quite tight, but with a few minor contortions you can climb in, the perfect vantage point for admiring your companion's shapely legs.”

Hmm, now I’m no prude, but I might be a potential customer at this store, and if I read that I would be put off not only by its sexist content but also by the fact that the text was clearly not written with me in mind. After all, I personally can’t imagine admiring my boyfriend’s legs in that car, shapely as they may be. Now, sexism in all its guises is not exactly a touchy issue in Spain the way it is in our country. With a very incipient sense of women’s liberation coupled with the traditional machismo spiced up with the oh-so-French sense of “vive le différence”, comments that would be taken offensively in the United States and England are viewed as joyous celebrations of this “différence”. And there is something nice about this: in the United States we have become so hypersensitive to sexual harassment in all its guises that a simple “You look nice” from a male to a female colleague has become totally taboo, a situation certainly strips everyday life of a bit of zest.

But things being as they are, the problem was that by translating the magazine, the message would be read by those wealthy, and likely educated, American and British travelers. And therein lay my hesitation. Should I say something to Carlos about the inappropriateness of the parting comment or just leave it? After all, I’m just a translator. Still, I thought it could be interpreted so offensively by some potential guests that I donned my cultural interpreter hat and emailed Carlos about the matter.

“Dear Carlos,” I wrote in Spanish. “You’ll see that at the end of the text I inserted a comment. I wanted to give you my advice on a cultural issue here. Cultured English-speakers tend to be highly sensitive to sexism. It might be reasonable to assume that the readers of this article will be men, but they might be women, too. And your assumption that they will be men who appreciate a reference to the shapely legs of their companion… well, frankly that might be considered insulting not only to women today but also to some men, who might view this comment as disparaging to women, and even as an example of the worst of Mediterranean cultures, that is, the famous machismo. To preserve a positive image of your country (and your client’s company), you might want to get rid of this phrase not only in English but perhaps in Spanish as well. This kind of tone no longer works for a mixed audience. Perhaps for a men’s magazine you could get away with it, but it does sound bad – as out-of-date as caveman talk – and speaks poorly about your culture and country to people from abroad.”

As I tried to convey my alarm and strong recommendation to eliminate it, Carlos, being the fabulous Carlos, could only shake his head in dismay – as I imagine it – at my lack of joie de vivre and a healthy, earthy sense of humor. His response oozed it:

“Oh, Mary, Mary. What good is it for a woman to wear a skirt if no man looks at her legs? Nothing! Well, as the good American that you are, don’t worry. Let’s not get angry at each other. This is a magazine about watches, so 90% of the buyers are men (of course, men are the ones who buy watches and jewelry for their women). This audience is not going to be offended by the comment on legs. On the contrary, they will be delighted. Warm regards, and try to take things a bit more lightly. And I do appreciate your professionalism (despite your sex). A kiss, Carlos.”

My blood pressure went up at the advice to take things more lightly. Ugh! Sexist pig! It’s not about me; it’s about acceptable standards and practices. And the “despite your sex” comment was clearly just bait. But his reference to my anger? I felt no anger whatsoever (until I got this response!). This was not my issue; it was simply a cultural adjustment that I thought would make the text more acceptable for an international audience and save the company some embarrassment. And as for assuming that men buy watches for women: Wow! I’ve certainly known the wrong men in my life! So in my righteous desire to set matters straight, I felt compelled to respond:

“Dear Carlos, I mentioned this not in anger but because I feel that it’s really a cultural faux pas to include a phrase like this for an international audience. It’s not for a lack of humor; it’s a cultural reality that perhaps you don’t grasp. You are only reinforcing obsolete (and quite negative) stereotypes that I personally don’t like to spread. But as the good Spaniard that you are, as you say, it’s no big deal, and it’s your call. Kisses, Mary.”

The kisses part, by the way, has nothing to do with flirting; it’s just a friendly way to end emails in Spanish. Carlos wrote me back immediately, saying:

“Well, Mary, right now I have to go home to make sure that the house is clean, my dinner is made, my child is tucked into bed, my newspaper is waiting for me on the sofa … and obviously that my wife is smiling and ready for a night of fun. And if she isn’t, my mistress will be. Hugs to you, Mary. Carlos.”

I was now riled at his misinterpretation of my intentions and his assumption that I was a dour, humorless prude; how dare he? Me! So liberal and open-minded! Not to mention his chauvinism... Yet I couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious jest, a clear illustration of the cultural gulf between us. My only choice was to respond:

“Well, enjoy your evening, Silvio Berlusconi!”

To which Carlos replied:

“Ha, ha, ha, one more kiss for you, Margaret Thatcher! And try to enjoy yours!”

Perhaps never the twain shall meet, but at least we can joke about it. Carlos probably still thinks I’m a frigid Anglo-Saxon Iron Woman, like my adopted namesake, and I definitely still think he’s a primitive lout, like his adopted namesake. But the humor survives, and even now, years later, in every email we exchange, we still call each other Silvio and Margaret. Vive le (cultural) différence!