2011 has been a big year for me. In March, my first book Dragon Bones was released in Hong Kong. In May it was released in the US. In June, I moved into my new flat – the first place of my own that I’ve ever lived in. It’s right on the train line, but it’s large and the sound proofing is excellent. A few weeks ago I submitted my thesis on culture in virtual teams that completes my Masters of Applied Anthropology. And I’ve shared the year with a very special woman.
With so much to celebrate, why then did my friends and family insist on celebrating my 40th birthday? For me, it held no importance, but I was bullied into organising two parties (I chose two to keep them as close to a typical dinner out as I could) for the benefit of others. Whenever I mention my dislike of celebrating a lap of the solar system, people make a comparison to Jehovah’s Witnesses, who apparently also oppose making an event out of birthdays. But I believe that the majority of the world’s people have traditionally had no such celebration.
Birthdays are really a celebration of individualism. The more value a culture places on community, the less likely it is to make a big deal out of an event specific to an individual. Even Christians historically celebrated the name day of their patron saint rather than their own birthdays. Ironically, and perhaps counter to my argument, I have to celebrate my birthday in this individualistic culture for collectivist reasons of meeting community expectations. In my own life, I’ve felt more comfortable celebrating birthdays when they signified a life event such as the right to drink and the end of legally requiring parental approval for my actions.
In many cultures, such rites of passage recognise groups rather than individuals. Massai warriors are initiated into manhood as a group. Boys in Vanuatu become men in a communal celebration at an annual harvest ritual. It has been argued that modern males remain immature late into life due to the lack of such rites of passage. Instead, birthday celebrations demand no challenge of manhood and would seem, through an annual shower of gifts, to reinforce a culture of individualism and possibly even greed. I never missed birthdays when I lived in Japan or Bhutan. They’re not particularly noted in Asia or Africa or in any culture outside of the British empire that I can find.
And perhaps I missed the importance of this birthday. Forty years is roughly the mid point of an average life. This may be a wake up call to set my life in a new direction. How do you celebrate your birthday? What does it mean to you?