"Ni cultura ni
costumbre justifican la violencia contra las mujeres."= Neither
culture or tradition justify violence against women. Cool slogan I saw while I
was at a teacher training in Nueva Guinea. I would also add
"bullshit" to the list of things that are not justified...
=============================================================================
For a lot of reasons, gender
has been on my mind more than usual this week, so I decided to use it as the
lens to describe my last week or so. Part celebration, part thoughts, part
rant.
Friday 7:30am- 3pm- I go to
the nearbyish #evangelicaljungle, Nueva Guinea, to help out superstar Peace
Corps volunteer Isabel with an English training. 20 teachers received a manual
with communicative lesson plans ideas for the curriculum and a training on how
to use it. It was a great day, the teachers were motivated and excited to
participate. It was ladies' day: there were all female presenters for the
event, and we rocked it.
Friday 5pm- I go help Isabel
sort books at the community English center she is close to finishing. It's an
amazing project with lots of community support. So many women have worked hard
to put the center together: Isabel, her counterpart Diana, the Alcadesa
(Mayoress? lol), volunteers in Granada and in the States...excited to see what
happens when it opens.
Saturday 1:50 am- I need to
go to Managua for a meeting so I try to take the 2 am bus, the most efficient
and timely form of transport out of the far from everything #evangelicaljungle.
While I am walking the 2 blocks to the bus, a man on a motorcycle goes by and
says "Te acompano?" (May I accompany you?) I don't respond and keep
walking. "What's the matter? You didn't like that?" "No, leave
me alone." Thankfully, he does.
Saturday 2:10 am- Where is
the bus? A group of youths pass. I can feel myself tensing as I here mostly
male voices. Nueva Guinea is a pretty chill town, but I still feel terrified. I
am doing all the wrong things. As they pass, I realize they have 2 girls with
them and are a bunch of drunk, harmless university students stumbling their way
home. They don't even see me. Unclench.
Saturday 2:20 am- It is
clear the bus is not coming. I put on my best New York style walk with a
purpose and walk a few more blocks to the other stop for the 2:45 am bus. I get
there and an exhale. A male Peace Corps volunteer also traveling ends up by my
side. It pains me to admit it, but I feel so much safer.
Saturday 9 am-12 pm- I
arrive slightly late for the Gender and Development Committee meeting, but I
arrive for the part where we plan awesome projects: a "Girls Leading Our
World (GLOW)" camp, a pilot for a boys camp to teach boys about positive
models of masculinity, blog posts to connect to the Peace Corps community and
much more.
Saturday 12 pm-2pm- Get
amazing vegetarian food and catch up with some amazing Peace Corps women.
Heavenly afternoon.
Saturday 6pm- 8pm- I become
increasingly convinced that Nicaraguan dating is not working for me.
Sunday to Friday- Despite my
plans, I never actually leave Managua due to my body giving up on food. In
between doctor visits, I hide out at my friend's apartment in a state of
internal disaster and exhaustion, and it was so nice to be seen by almost
no-one. Invisible at last. And it was amazingly refreshing to hang out
with an amazing, talented and dedicated woman who understands service and
career.
Saturday afternoon- I put
aside doubts and go to the beach with my friend Natalie and my Nicaraguan
compañero. We play in the waves like children and it is beautiful and
joyous.
Saturday - We meet my Nica
friend's friends. They are very successful gay men. Which makes me surprised by
how self centered and machista the conversation is. Suddenly, after ages of
listening to one of them tell me about his entire life story, he asks my friend
if he should speak slower so I can understand. I counter "No, I may not
speak Spanish perfectly, but I've been here for basically 2 years and I
completely get what you are saying." What I want to say: "While your
life story is amazing and you have obviously worked hard and are extremely
intelligent, you have been talking about yourself now nonstop for over a half
hour and I've run out of questions and there's not much I can say now except O,
wow! a lot." RUDE.
Saturday 9 pm- Crash and
burn. I realize that dating a (or rather, to be fair, this particular)
Nicaraguan is definitely not going to work despite my loneliness because I have
self respect.
Sunday 8 am-2:30 pm- I teach
a class at the Fundacion Uno Leon program (an English teacher training project)
to the highest level of teachers there. There are 3 female teachers and 7 male
teachers. The men are very self confident in their English ability whereas the
women are possibly more intelligent or at the very least test better, but are
generally more reticent about partipating in class. Or maybe it's that they
simply can't get a word in edgewise. I find myself being a bad teacher and
channeling the rage from my very failed love life into my classroom management,
practically trying to disempower the men. Anytime the men provide answers that
are not accurate, I give pretty blunt "No"s and encourage the heck
out of the women, probably to the point that it was noticeable. I catch myself
doing this and realize it is alarmingly immature, but Teacher Emily is drunk on
power. Oops. Our topic for the class was shopping and we were discussing
compulsive shopping and whether it is exists in Nicaragua or not since it is a
poor country. One of the female teachers brings up how compulsive shopping is
usually stereotyped as a woman's problem, but that she thinks a lot of the
behavior that some (lots of) men partake in, ie, spending money on beer,
cigarettes and women is just as impulsive and has similarly detrimental
effects. I find this perspective fascinating and put it out to the men for
discussion. They get a bit defensive and disagree.
Sunday 7 pm- After class, I
end up in Managua (the capital city) at night. I call every taxi that I have
saved in my phone but can't find a taker to bring me in search of food. With my
blood sugar dangerously low, I brave the street. There is food a block and a
half away, and I know it will probably be fine but I am wearing a dress and I
am jittery and nervous. After I've walked a block, some idiot yells "Te
acompano, amor?" (May I accompany you, love?) repeatedly. I yell back
"No, go to hell." A bit fuerte (strong), but it's hard not to
feel threatened by that when it is past dark in a dress. My exposed calves and
biceps are obviously asking for male accompaniment, lord knows they can't go
anywhere alone. Luckily, the man stays put and I get my food. On my way back,
he calls again.
Sunday 7:30 pm- I have to
pass by a security guard for the 3rd time that night. I have practiced the
"defensive adios" against him, where you greet someone from a far
distance in order that they are verbally disarmed and can't piropo you. As I go
past this last time, he yells out "Buenas noches mi muñequita (my little
doll) linda bla bla bla gross things"
Me: "I am not doll, I'm a person." Cowardly trifling fool. You
wanna call me dolly? Say it to my face.
Monday 5:30 am-Bus fee
taker: Are you going to Nueva Guinea, princess?
Me: Not a princess, not
going there.
Monday 2:15- Make it back to
site after a six hour hell bus ride. Prep class. Thankfully kids show up,
although they trickle in. I'm chatting with one of the students who arrived
early and she asks "Teacher, how do you say novio in English?" I
proffer the word like a worried mother hen and she tells me she has a boyfriend.
I ask if he studies at the high school. She says no, he is taking computer
class though. I immediately ask if he is older. He is not, and I palpably breathe a sigh of relief. I want to say
something nice and congratulatory, because self esteem is so fragile at that
age and boyfriends are a big deal, but I worry this will somehow ruin her
chance at having an education and a life. What does having a boyfriend when you
are twelve mean anyway? I didn't even get my first kiss until I was 18, so I
have literally no relatable life experience to share.
Monday 3:15- The girls are
in class gossiping about rumors about them kissing random boys and start
writing ________loves_________ all over the board. I want class to be fun, but
they have done an expectionally poor job at listening and focusing today. Plus
I've only lunched on some mangoes. I lose patience and go on a weird rant about
how they need to work harder and focus harder "si quieren ser alguien en
la vida" (if you want to be someone in life, a set expression in Spanish).
I hate that expression, as if poor marginalized people weren't someones, but
I've found myself using it a lot lately with students in my less and less
controllable outbursts. What I really want to say is: Even though you annoy and
exhaust me, I care for you, and I wish a much, much better life for you than
your country offers its womenfolk. But I want to you take that reality
seriously, I want you to fight, I want you to learn these stupid names of
animals in English because you want to have "algo mas" (something
more). But my Spanish falters and they are teenagers and there is a culture gap
and I regret yelling.
