Machismo

 machismo |məˈ ch ēzmō; -ˈkēz-|

noun

strong or aggressive masculine pride

syn: masculinity, toughness, male chauvinism, sexism, virility, manliness; bravado

The whole point of this blog is to describe to those back home to the best of my ability my Peace Corps experience and my time in Peru. And I realized as I thought about writing this blog that I’m about to talk about a couple things I haven’t really brought up in the blog realm. Part of it may be because I have become so used to things as they are here that I sometimes forget to relay them to people back home. Also, part of it may be the fact that I know these aspects might not sit well with people. I want everyone to get an idea of what it’s like to be here and I don’t want that idea to be negative. But, in order to give everyone a better idea of the reality of living here, I'm going to have to write about it all-- the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

To start, I have recently become a fan of Mad Men. I never watched it back in the U.S., and thanks to movie and show exchanges with other volunteers, I now have access to four seasons. I really like the show, but it always leaves me sad and slightly depressed, mostly because I know the treatment of women is by no means an exaggeration. Alas, I can’t stop watching it—I’m sucked in.

One of the first episodes of the first season follows a new secretary, Peggy, who is considered somewhat homely by other people in the office, yet she still receives a lot of attention from the men, as there are bets gathered on who will be able to sleep with her first. There is a scene when she finally gets fed up with it and comments to her superior, Joan, about how the men treat her like fresh meat. Joan tells her to “enjoy it while it lasts,” implying she will never get attention like that again with her appearance and status. This is followed by a montage of men walking by Peggy’s desk, looking her up and down, winking, leering, and in general being pretty creepy.

I shivered when that part played, as I thought, “That! That is what it’s like! Those are the looks!” Because, well, I get those looks everyday. Everywhere. All the time.

I walk out my front door and am greeted by a whistle or a loud kissing sound. I walk down the main road (which is the Pan-American highway) and passing semis will slow down so that the drivers and passengers can hang their heads out the window and say lewd things. A group of men sitting in the shade on a street corner will stop all conversation to stare at me as I walk by, looking like they want to eat me for lunch. I enter the gates of the high school and give the obligatory cheek-kiss as I greet all of the teachers, and some of the men hold my hand a little too long, making comments on how beautiful my eyes and my skin are. A classroom full of 15-year-old boys will fail to even attempt to look as if they’re paying attention to me and not undressing me with their eyes. I walk out of the room and am followed by howls, whistles, kisses…

At first I would get so pissed off at all of this, I could not hide my anger and disgust. I cornered teenage boys to tell them they were being disrespectful. I flipped off truck drivers. I would practically snap my neck as I turned to give anyone the look of death who waited until after I passed to grace me with a piropo (catcall). But, it didn’t do anything. How could it, when I might as well have yelled at them for eating rice everyday? I still get angry. I still feel disgust. But, I do it more quietly. I mutter under my breath my hatred. I say things in English to myself I know could not be understood even by basic English speakers. I can't even express how much this grates at me, and I know it is something many female volunteers go through. A fellow volunteer in my department punched a truck in her anger at a group of men who obviously pushed her over the edge with their machismo.

In my first months in site I asked the women in my host family, “Does this not bother you?” and they simply responded with, “They don’t mean anything by it.” My host dad even interjected to say, "Women like it." I told them that if I were treated this way in the U.S. it would not be ignored; that I practically had permission to slap them across the face. A lot of people laugh when I say that. I’m being serious. They were shocked that such a big deal would be made of something so small.

Is it small? Is it a small thing that 14 year old girls can’t walk anywhere without getting disgusting comments made about them by men twice or three times their age (who, by the way, have no qualms with how young they are)? Is it a small thing that an entire classroom of adolescent boys is practically egged on to objectify me as a woman by their male teacher as I walk in the room?

And catcalls, piropos, that is just part of it. Inequality in the workforce, girls spending their free time doing household chores while their brothers go play soccer, teen pregnancies as young as 12 with zero responsibility put on the boy, domestic abuse… it permeates everything.

It’s the small things that add up to be big things. And right now, being a woman in Peru—a gringa woman nonetheless— is no small thing. One after another these things build and build and build, and I tell myself how lucky I am as a U. S. citizen to come from a place where this is not my everyday reality. But the reality is the U.S. has a long way to go as well. I sit in this country in awe of the injustice, and then I read the news on my own country and am dumbfounded by the regress that is happening; by the blatant machismo that is being exercised in our government and the decisions being made for women by men.

As a Peace Corps Volunteer I am supposed to be apolitical and not express any of my political standings, (even though I do not see this as political, it is simply basic women rights) so I won’t go into all of the insane bills being proposed and passed in the U.S. right now. I guess more than anything I just want to express the weight of all of this. The feeling of having nowhere to turn. Even the motherland is against me.

I am glad I am able to work with youth, because I truly feel like I am given an opportunity to work for a better future. There are a lot of things I could never change about how a culture shapes a person, but there are ideas I can plant. And as maddening as it is that the best I can do is plant an idea, I at least have the opportunity to do that.

Maybe in 20 years I can visit Peru and not be sexually harassed as I walk down the street or into a school. And maybe I’m being too optimistic with that. But if things still are the way they are, I hope the girls who will be adults by then will feel unsettled and have something to say about it.

Jaded dream

I once looked into the future over next 6 months or so, and I saw the fruits of my labor. I saw myself getting an invitation to the Peace Corps and flying to a new country where I would hopefully work on Spanish or possibly have to learn a new language, eat new foods, meet new people, struggle and defeat new challenges. Like I always do, I saw everything with rose-shaded glasses. I told myself I was being realistic, I told myself I was being rational, but in the end, I guess I wasn't. I was overly optimistic.

I haven't gotten so much as a "boo" from the Peace Corps in over a month. After missing my invitation, they said they were working on a new placement for me and I'd hear from them in a few weeks. It's definitely been more than a few weeks. However, that doesn't worry me.

What worried me, initially, was an email I received before the silence. An email that told me if I wasn't willing to go to any country they wanted me to, I should consider working with a different program. The email that told me regardless of my skill set, of what my recruiter told me, and how big the South American region is, they would not be sending me there. They wouldn't let me wait for another date, they wouldn't even consider it.

This email was prompted by an email I had sent them. I had talked with a Return Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) and they had given me some advice on how to make the most of my PC experience. He suggested I could in fact ask for what I wanted, it all came down to how I asked for it. After missing my invitation date to a Spanish speaking region, he suggested there were ways I could ask for another similar nomination. So I wrote an email describing my previous language experience, how I feel I will be most effectively used in Spanish regions, and how my time there will also help me with coming back to the US and working with Spanish speakers, which our country has more of now than ever. I wrote this all with an air of flexibility, stating my ability to work wherever needed, while showing skills that pointed me in an obvious direction. I let it sit for awhile, I let others read it, and I sent it.

Their response was less than desired, and somewhat chastising. "Now would be a good time to refresh yourself with the Peace Corps core values," they said in response to my "inflexibility." Ouch.

But it made me think; do I want to go with a different program? Throw away everything I've worked for and start all over again? I am volunteering two-years of my life to the government in hopes to help others, to gain experience, and test my skills. It felt like they just needed a warm body to fill a position, regardless.

Then the other day, I got a call from my mom telling me I should watch 20/20 that night. They were doing a piece on the Peace Corps.

The long and short of it is, they were bringing up the question, "Does the Peace Corps put its volunteers in dangerous situations?"

If you've looked into the PC at all, they put a great deal of emphasis on safety. They only place people in countries that have a good standing with the PC and are accepting of volunteers. They always quote the statistic "98% of Peace Corps Volunteers feel safe to extremely safe in their host country."

The question of safety was brought up because of a murder of a PC volunteer--by her fellow PC co-worker from her host country, nonetheless. He was dating/raping/having children with multiple middle-school-aged girls in her classes, and she brought that to the attention of the Peace Corps, asking for anonymity in her identity. The man was fired, information was leaked, and he killed her in her sleep shortly thereafter.

Obviously, this is a terrible case that is not by any means the norm. However, 20/20 went further in depth concerning the safety of women volunteers. In the last decade, there have been over 1,000 reported rapes of volunteers in the PC. They brought on six women to tell their stories, along with how the PC dealt with support and help during their time of need.

One woman was gang raped, and leading up to her rape she was being stalked and harassed by the same group of men. She and other women on site asked for help and to be moved to a safer location, and PC refused. They sent a representative to the town to talk to the local police, and later that day she was attacked and drug in an alley, told she should have stayed quiet.

How did the Peace Corps handle this? First, when it was decided she would go back to D.C. for medical care, she was told she couldn't tell anyone what happened. She could only tell people she needed her wisdom teeth removed. Before she returned to her host country, the PC made her write a list of everything she did wrong to cause the attack so that it wouldn't happen again. She had to list "staying out too late" as a reason. She was attacked at 5:00 p.m.

The other women's stories didn't stray too far from this one. While the other interviewees hadn't been gang raped, support for them during the aftermath of their rape ranged from little to none. One woman was offered three counseling sessions, and that was it. Others weren't offered any. All women were told the rape was a result of their poor decisions. Decisions like, going out for dinner and a drink.

To read a little more about it and watch an interview of the girl who was gang-raped, click on this link, http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/peace-corps-gang-rape-volunteer-jess-smochek-us/story?id=12599341

Or, watch the full episode here, it starts about 9:45 minutes in with the story of Kate, the girl killed in her sleep.
http://abc.go.com/watch/2020-/SH559026/VD55106741/children-who-grow-up-to-kill

I understand that, sadly, there are inherent risks as a woman in any country, and that safe decisions should be made anywhere. I also understand the risk of sexual assault quite possibly is increased while in a country where women are not held in high esteem. Women are in much more danger than men anywhere. These are sad truths of our world.

However, I'm appalled that the organization, whose very name demonstrates humanitarian and peace efforts all over the world, should take such a low approach towards these volunteers in their very hour of need. These women dedicated their time and effort to help other countries in the name of ours. You could even say these women risked their lives for the PC effort, and they were given blame and isolation in return.

I had come to realize before this moment that the Peace Corps is not a perfect organization. It is too vast and policy ridden to run smoothly, and while good intentions and willing people are all working together, bureaucracy, cultural divides, and limited resources leave little room for a well-run system. It was understood that the experience I get out of the Peace Corps would be largely based on what I put in it. Honestly, it's still part of the appeal-- working and teaching in a different country with lots of free-range while roughing it and still accomplishing something worthwhile.

However, this whole situation was a low-blow to my psyche, and took my dream out at the knees. How can I stand behind an organization that doesn't take care of its women volunteers in a time of crisis? The Peace Corps can't guarantee anyone their safety anytime of day, but it does guarantee to take care of you. How can I volunteer two-years of my life to an organization knowing it would rather sweep rape under the rug than be associated with it? That in the terrible event I am raped, I would more likely get chastised than supported?

It makes me angry and sick. It makes me feel like I found out my hero and mentor uses crack and keeps bodies in their freezer. It doesn't change what I wanted to do with the Peace Corps, but it seriously makes me question whether this experience should be through the Peace Corps.
I know the Peace Corps has completely lost the faith of my parents, and many of the people who it took a long time to support my decision to join.

Justin said to me there had to be a way to have a similar experience but to be safer. And this made me even more sad, because I don't think there is. If the experience I'm looking for is living in a third-world country doing volunteer work, the dangers will always be there. While the dangers do make me uncomfortable, the danger increases ten-fold with the knowledge that I may not be helped if I ask for it. And if the Peace Corps can't help, really, who can?

It's all just falling apart around me. When I was in the thick of applying to the Peace Corps, I asked myself, "What kind of person would go through all of this and then quit? Decide to turn down an invite, or even go a few months in their host country and ask to be sent home?" I told myself I would not be one of those people.

Now, I don't know. I know many people have joined the Peace Corps in the last 50 years, and many have had amazing, life-altering experiences. Not every experience has to turn out like the women on 20/20 or the 1,000-plus who have been sexually assaulted/raped while serving. There's still a chance that I could have my Peace Corps experience. They may send me to a country where I don't know the language or even the alphabet, where I have to fetch my water from a river, bathe with a bucket, or eat rice everyday for two years, but I could still put all my heart into it and get everything out of it in return. The chance is not gone. But do I want to take that chance? Will the Peace Corps listen to my cries of help if I need it?

I believe everything happens for a reason. I was wondering what the reason was that I didn't make it to my first nomination to the Caribbean. Maybe this is it. Maybe I'll become one of those people that put all the time, effort, and thought into the grueling Peace Corps application, only to walk away in the end. In the name of women rights and my own personal safety, it would be in my own best interest to do something else. Maybe my dream wasn't meant to be anything more than a dream.

The Peace Corps needs to respond to the 20/20 episode, and it needs to make an effort. If they want to keep volunteers like me, they need to show they care.