A peace corps week through a gender lens

"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...

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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.