But Will I Come Back With a Tan??

At Women's Worlds Conference in Ottawa, I had the privilege to present in a concurrent session on the politics of travel. There is a big difference between traveling as a tourist and traveling as a conscious activist. In preparing for my big trip to Ecuador, I'm learning there is also a difference between packing as a tourist going to a resort and packing for this coming adventure. I'm not packing three different kinds of bathing suits, but packing a single subtle one-piece in case the culture considers skin exposure for women indecent. I'm not packing heels and a skimpy dress for 'nights on the town,' I'm packing my more modest long kurtas I got in India with their beautiful colors.

So when people ask me questions like, 'will you come back with a tan?' I have to kind of laugh. I plan to get 2 hours a day of lay-out time to catch some rays. That's a joke. This is not a trip to Florida, this is not a backpack across Europe, in fact- I have no idea what this is going to be! But my questions are more along the lines of 'should I bring gifts for the people I will be staying with?'. If I come back with a tan, that's sweet. If I come back without a tan, then I will just fit in with everyone here in the U.S. in December (unless I go to Jersey...I'll never be jerseylicious orange).

I remember when I came back from Ireland everyone asking me about the beer and people there. Yes, that is a part of their culture and yes, the beer is awesome there! BUT, there is so much more there than just that. The deeply rooted discomfort between the loyalists and the nationalists is evident almost everywhere I went in Belfast where I lived for a few months. I witnessed the Orange parades where the loyalists paraded around waving British flags, celebrating when William of Orange first took over Ireland. I witnessed the loyalists burning wooden pallets four stories high covered in Irish flags. Yes, there was much more than just beer in Ireland and when I told people this there was often a big disconnect. They didn't want to hear about politics, they were asking me for drunk stories--which I would not give. Similarly, when I left India I would not tell the tragic sad slum stories I heard and saw. There is so much more to it than that and I refuse to fuel any western stereotypes. Once somebody has sat down and listened to me gab about the wonderful food, culture, and friends I made in India- only then will I allow them to hear about the other parts I encountered. Maybe I'm stubborn, but I feel very strongly about this. Fueling these stereotypes is similar to when a person finds out I know American Sign Language and asks me how to say all of the "bad words." Until someone can sign their name and 'nice to meet you,' I refuse to tell them any of the other stuff.

It's strange, I'm not nervous at all for this trip. Somehow it all just feels right and I know it will all work out. The most stressful part of a trip like this is getting pulled in a million different directions by family and friends. Everyone wants to get in as much time as possible, which throws off my routine of having loads of just-me time. But I suppose my routine was bound to get disrupted very soon anyways...

p.s. I sprained my left pinky yesterday, so every 'a' and uppercase letter in this blog, feel my pain! Ouch...

Keep Your Hands to Yourself!

Ever hear of the saying "keep your hands to yourself?" It seems that the older I get, the less this rule applies. Last night I went to a bar for a beer after work, my regular spot. As I'm keeping to myself watching the Yankees lose miserably, I feel a foreign hand go down my pants...yes, DOWN MY PANTS!! The tag on my underwear was sticking out and some pervert felt the need to set it right for me. How did he convince himself that this was the right choice of action? Needless to say I was shocked, and raving mad. As I lectured him on how inappropriate that was and how uncomfortable he made me, he just apologized and turned his back to me. When I see the bouncer (who also is the GM of the place) walk by I stop him and tell him what had happened. He didn't give me any sympathy, but instead told me "oh, but this guy really is a nice guy! he comes here all the time!" Are you kidding me?! The perpetrator looks embarrassed and tells me he will just be on his way. This is the second time this year I have felt physically violated by a man and then told to let it go because "he's a regular", "he's not normally like that", or he's really a nice guy." So is the new rule of thumb "keep your hands to yourself, unless you're in a place you frequent--then it's fair game!" WTF!!

When someone violates my personal space, it makes me feel helpless and really low. When I had traveled to India three years ago, two events like this stand out forever in my mind. The first one was when I was alone walking the streets from the post office. It was in my first week of being there so the time difference combined with the heat combined with the culture shock left my head spinning. When a guy came up to me on the street and offered a hand shake, my guard was a little shaky. In offering my hand I had given him a clear shot to reach in and grab my breast. I remember feeling so disgusting and alone afterwards. I just wanted to go home, I felt I had made the worst mistake of my life going there and I sat in an alleyway crying for about ten minutes. Eventually I pulled myself together and the trip went upward from there, but I never let my guard waiver again...except for once. The second time I was lucky enough to be surrounded by friends, one particularly tall and strong-looking friend, when a man decided it was his right to put his hands on me. My friend grabbed him in a near head-lock and brought him over to the police car conveniently parked near-by. As they spoke in another language to the police, I stood there--again helpless but not so alone this time! The cop ended up letting the creep go. Luckily this time, my friends were there to console me. 

I can't help feeling that time and again these crimes are committed against women (and occasionally men but mostly women) and there is never any justice. We are taught from kindergarten to keep our hands to ourselves and yet it seems some men have forgotten this important lesson. I'm tired of being made to feel like a crazy woman when I flip out on a guy that put his hands on me! I'm tired of strange men feeling like it's their right to touch me without my permission! And most of all I'm tired of other people justifying these men's actions with lame-ass excuses... so what if "he's a regular?" so what if he's "really a nice guy?" Would you let this guy do that to your sister? to your mother? Please, don't allow him to do it to me.

Nerves...

Today marks one more step towards the reality that I am, in fact, leaving the country in less than a month. Today I give my two weeks notice to my boss...no more waitressing for this girl! Honestly, I will miss the whole crew and even the actual job. Waiting on people is a humbling experience and has been eye-opening for me in a lot of different ways. 

I want to get this off of my chest, and I'm trying to think of a good segway into what I want to say...and I can't, so I'll just say it: racism is something I encountered a LOT in the restaurant. Most often I heard "Black people are not good tippers," even to an all out declaration of "I hate Black people." It shocked me every time I heard it and cannot believe what little guilt people seemed to show when saying these things. Especially since some of the people who said it the most had their own history of oppression (female, non-Christian, "minority" status). Where is all of this hatred coming from? Personally, I don't believe in direct cause-effect relationships. I believe there is usually a snowball of many different reasons that lead to an outcome. Anyways, here are some of my ideas of why racism is so accepted in the restaurant world:

1. Waitresses/Waiters assume that people of color are not going to tip, therefore give bad service, therefore receive an appropriate tip for their crappy job. 

2. People of color assume that their waiter/waitress is racist (maybe past experiences?) and doesn't tip anyone outside of their own race

3. People of color, in general, make up more of the poor and working class and don't have the extra money to give an "adequate" tip

OR....

4. People of color tip exactly the same as white people but when we receive a low tip from a person of color we assume it is because of their race (reaffirming our stereotypes), and when we receive a low tip from a white person we assume it is because they are having a bad day, an a**hole, or maybe they just forgot to tip that day.

Just a few ideas...I could go more into embedded and internalized systems of oppression, but not now. This has been on my mind for a long time and it feels good to get it off of my chest. Feel free to comment anyone, I'd love to get a dialogue going about this- especially from anyone who has worked in the restaurant biz. Overall I'd like to say, IT'S NOT OKAY TO MAKE GENERALIZATIONS AND SAY THESE THINGS ABOUT PEOPLE...ITS REPULSIVE! **sigh**, that felt good.

I titled this blog "nerves" because in leaving my job, it is my final severance here in the U.S., meaning this upcoming trip is actually real! I read through the volunteer manual last night and it says that those volunteers must have a high understanding with spoken and written Spanish. I really wonder what they are expecting of me...any chance I can become fluent in three weeks?? My nerves are finally waking up...

Getting Prepared

There is so much to do and think about before traveling to another country. Doctors appointments, shots, travel documents....I'm starting to get a stomach ache already. I just got back from Canada's largest gathering of women in the history of their country- Women's Worlds 2011 in Ottawa! It was truly incredible. I was able to meet women from all across the globe. Most moving for me was meeting a women who was deaf from Uganda, Florence, and her interpreter, Olivia. Incredible obstacles were overcome for them to make it across the ocean to speak about women's issues in Uganda...and they touched on so much more than that.

The most amazing part of the whole trip for me was the final dance party after the closing ceremony. All of the women gathered together to see the different musical performers on the front lawn of Ottawa University. As we all breathed a sigh of relief that we finally had a moment to freely enjoy ourselves after intense plenary and concurrent sessions, everyone began to unwind and dance! It was the embodiment of Women's World as the women from across the globe joined hands and moved to the modern beats coming out of the DJ booth! Safe spaces, in that moment we were all equal. Race, class, religion, body types...there was no hierarchy in our movement and everyone was all smiles!

I will take these mental pictures with me in my next trip to keep me grounded as I travel to one of the most untouched and remote regions of the world- the Amazon. I am scared, excited, anxious, and absolutely unprepared for what happens next. But that's the fun part....right?