There is another layer
we rarely articulate
when we talk about culture.
Yet so much depends on it.
For me, culture
is not only tradition,
not only language,
not only memory.
It is space.
A space
we use together.
Culture becomes alive
not when I am free,
but when you can be free next to me.
When you don’t have to shrink yourself.
When you don’t have to adapt
so that I can comfortably fit.
Openness belongs here too.
Knowing other languages.
Respecting other cultures.
Accepting that
not everything is about me.
Not surrender.
Not self-erasure.
Creating space.
Perhaps that’s why it feels to me
that beneath culture
there are no rules,
but a quiet agreement:
“You may be free.
And I will not take that freedom away from you.”
This is a kind of
good-natured “herd instinct”.
Not assimilation.
Not sameness.
But the joy of moving together.
Of living freely **not against each other,
but alongside one another**.
From this perspective,
culture is not something
that needs to be defended.
It is something
that must be practised.
Every day.
In small decisions.
In ordinary situations.
Perhaps this is the level
where culture is
no longer an identity debate,
no longer a flag,
no longer a label.
But shared freedom. ❤️