Friday, March 29, 2013
a view into some of the deeper, darker thoughts
This month, our bi-yearly report came due. Twice a year, Peace Corps Volunteers take a few hours to gather the informal and formal data we've gathered, write up detailed notes about our projects, and reflect on our experience and service so far.
This time around, my third time completing my form, I have been inspired by a fellow PCV to actually lay out my thoughts from that form for you all. I will likely share a number of reflections I've had and reported to my Program Manager here, but first up is the one that is inspired by Christin- my challenges.
I don't pretend that my thoughts are entirely eloquent, and they may even lack that vital element of humility that I try to embody every single day. But they are from the heart, written nearly two years into this experience of living in a brand new place, amongst brand new cultural ideals. That said, take it all with a grain of salt.
With that, here is what I jotted down.
**********
What challenges have you faced in your project or other areas of your Peace Corps experience?
There are a myriad of small challenges that Americans, particularly American volunteers, face each day living in Cambodia. Most of them are insignificant- dealing with extreme heat coupled with lack of air conditioning, large, disease-ridden mosquitoes out to suck our blood, and the real and present danger that the next food item we eat may be covered with bacteria that our body has never seen and, when ingested, will react violently to.
I've had the same challenges that many PCVs face- my trainees do not have free time for clubs that I thought I'd be able to start, mainly because they spend their evenings and midday breaks preparing their own lessons or getting extra money teaching classes. I've had projects start and stall and be inconsistent because of holidays, scheduling changes (they seem to change monthly), commitment from people who then are unable to meet that commitment, etc.
But none of these surface level challenges tend to get me down twenty months into my service. They are a part of my life, and they only serve to remind me of how truly lucky I have it when I live in America.
It is the deeper challenges that cause me sincere distress at this point in my service. Huge, cultural challenges that either prevent me from doing my work, or prevent me from feeling successful in my work.
BEING A FEMALE IN AN ENTIRELY MALE DOMINATED SCHOOL ENVIRONMENT
Without a doubt, the greatest challenge I have faced in my service has been being a female amongst a team of entirely male co-teachers. My experience has been largely defined by the men that I do my primary work with, and it has not been overwhelmingly positive. I'm aware that female Volunteers face challenges with their female counterparts, but, having recently finally been given the opportunity to work with a female counterpart, I am more aware of the differences between what my work is like with a female as compared to a male Khmer co-teacher.
My very first day at the RTTC [Regional Teacher Training Center], I showed up fifteen minutes before a meeting was set to begin. I was the first person to arrive, so I sat down to study some Khmer. As teachers began to trickle in, I greeted each of them politely, explaining who I was. Eventually, some of the English teaching staff arrived. When they saw me, they immediately knew who I was. The very first thing they said to me, before finding out my name, was that it would have been better if I was a man, or, since I was a woman, if the female English trainer who is normally on staff was not out for the year. They told me it would be much easier to learn the culture and be a teacher at the RTTC if she had been there.
They were 100% correct. Though I've been frustrated by that interaction for a number of months, I've recently come to realize that they predicted so accurately my two years of service that I wish I could go back to the Kate in October 2011 and tell her not to be angry- but to acknowledge this piece of wisdom, thank them for it, and then move on.
I have had four male counterparts during my service. One of them, who was not given English classes this year and thus I was forced to discontinue teaching with, is an exception to the statements I am about to make.
In my daily work with my male counterparts, I am never asked my opinion on a lesson strategy. Often, I am asked if I have an "idea" for what to teach that day. I have given a number of answers to this questions- from, "yes I have this great idea for a new strategy to teach XYZ" to "I have some thoughts, but I'd love to hear yours"- and nearly all answers were usually met with a shake of a the head, and then my co-teacher telling me what the plan is. I have had success in bringing new techniques and ideas to class when I am the sole person presenting- either because I am teaching the lesson alone, or because my counterpart has given me the allotted space or time to cover a topic or hour. When given this freedom, I have brought in a different personality and style to teaching, provided different resources for English or pedagogical development. In this vein, the near entirety of my experience co-teaching with my male coteachers has been using the model of shared teaching- we each teach a separate, distinct section of the lesson, with very little idea-bouncing or energy-trading while the other person is in the front.
I have had a range of mostly negative experiences with my co-teachers willingness to try both a) new things and b) provide the students with the knowledge I believe necessary to become successful teachers. In one case, I have one coteacher whom I have found to be very rigid and unwilling to view my teaching style and techniques as anything he could ever adapt for himself. I have been told by this teacher that he is not a woman and cannot act like me in the classrom- that what I do only works in America or because I am American, and would not work for him. When I finally felt comfortable providing feedback and ideas to improve his instruction, I was met with an uncomfortable laugh and an unwillingness to change. When I then felt it was time to provide some firmer feedback, I found small success only when it came to improving his English - never his methodology. Even when I provided corrections to his word usage, pronunciation- along with context of why it was incorrect, softened with a story of how I made similar mistakes learning Italian or Khmer- I was still confronted with questions like "are you sure?" and "well, this is how we say it when we are Khmer speaking English." Only with a much more forceful repeating of the feedback was it accepted.
With one co-teacher that I began working with this year, I was asked numerous times why I was qualified to work as a trainer at the RTTC. In the year prior, he had said, during a simple chatting sessions amongst teachers, the he did not 'believe' me when I spoke about enjoying my time in Cambodia, and went on to question much of what I was saying. There is a chance I didn't understand his humor- that I still don't understand his humor- but it soured our relationship before it had even began. When we did finally teach together this year, we had a very strong first few classes. I brought in some new ideas, he enjoyed them and I even had a glance into the relationship many have with their co-teachers, as I saw him take a lesson I'd delivered the class before and make it his own with some of my flourishes in the next class. We left that day agreeing we were a 'great team.' Something- I still don't know exactyl what, perhaps it was my lack of grammatical rule knowledge? - deteriorated our common ground. One day, he asked me what degree I had, expressed surprised I had my master's in teaching, made a reference to the previous (male ) PCV who knew a lot about grammar, and then made a comment vaguely referencing aspects of English that are easier for men to learn than women. Since then, it is difficult to work with him. He does not wait for me to go to class and will often park his moto near the classrooms while I am waiting on the other side of the building to enter with him. He will do the majority of the teaching himself, while I stand to the side.
Because of my adherence to cultural division between men and women (which I do out of respect and a desire to not be seen as a loose, American woman), I have never been able to develop a deep relationship outside of teaching with these men. I know- because I've seen it and because Peace Corps teaches us that trust and knowing the other person is the quickest way to build a strong relationship that will lead to efficacy between co-teachers- that having a solid personal relationship with these men would have greatly helped me effect a greater change with them in the classroom. I know because my husband has done amazing, amazing things with his male counterparts and friends. They are able to relate to each other in a way I never can as a woman. I know because now that I have a female counterpart, I finally have a relationship both inside and outside the classroom with a woman, and our students are succeeding because of it- because of our shared goals, laughter, and thoughts.
MY WORK BEING SEEN AS INSIGNIFICANT/NON EFFECTIVE BECAUSE IT CAN'T BE "SEEN"
I've shared this with my Program Manager, but my most recent challenge has been the repetition that I need to leave behind an 'achievement' at my RTTC before I go. When my counterpart first asked me what my achievement would be, I had to ask him to clarify. He gave examples like building a new classroom, or library, or computer lab (all of which my school has), or paving the walkways between the school buildings or fixing the bathroom or, even, building a new bathroom!
Luckily, this topic was broached late enough into my service that I felt comfortable being direct- but polite- with my coteacher. I explained the three goals of peace corps, and that goal number 1- what I do at the school- has nothing to do with leaving behind an 'achievement.' I felt successful because many of our second year trainees spoke English better, used more resources when they taught, had more confidence in front of the classroom. He was confused by this explanation of my 'achievement' and pressed the issue a number of times after the initial conversation.
I- and I think, nearly every single PCV- am confronted with the challenge of my work being seen as lacking value or impact because it isn't something I did or built. Because tangible items- like an English library or a world map- have already been completed by previous PCVs or NGOs, I am left with spending my time focusing on what I thought I came here to do - capacity build, train, provide expertise, knowledge, skills. And then being seen as not leaving behind anything of significance, and being completely deflated by a cultural distinction that I vehemently disagree with. I am conflicted in my desire to be understanding of the cultural/Khmer way of viewing schools/roads/bridges etc as examples of 'foreign aid' and 'progress' while also desiring to be direct and upfront that that, while that all aid can be valuable, it will be people-provided sustainable aid which will be truly progressive and change-making in the long run for Cambodian society.
Honestly, I think this is perhaps the greatest mindset issue which all PCVs- both health and education- face, because our primary projects are mostly intangible- we are building skills, providing training and knowledge, community education- and are thus seen as not really giving much to the community, as they can't be SEEN or TOUCHED, we are constantly questioning our ability to be a contributing part of the community in which we've learned to live.
The final thing my counterpart said when he brought up my 'achievement' was that, though no one would ever tell me, the people at my school would speak negatively about me, my service, my impact, behind my back if I didn't leave behind a tangible accomplishment for the school. They would discuss it when I left, and it would be one of the most memorable aspects of my time as "Kate, PCV."
And when I think about that, I'm left completely deflated and questioning the worth of the energy I've poured into my trainees and coteachers for the past 20 months, and the value of my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer. And I'm left frustrated and disheartened about the future of the culture, community and country I've come to love, because I worry that too much emphasis is placed on insignificant achievements, and very little pride is left for the people who do the hard work of building a stronger, smarter nation.
*******
As a final note, I don't feel this way all day, every day. This is a summation of building sentiments over time. Frankly, I love every minute I spend with my trainees, with my host family, with the people around me, and I am confident that I have done something of value, of worth here. If not just for my community, most certainly for myself. And that brings me immense joy, and immense fulfillment.
do you hear what i hear? (a cultural comparison of sounds)
A month or so ago, I shared my first attempt at an infographic, succinctly breaking down different aspects of Khmer culture (at least, my understanding of it) as compared to my own culture in America.
Today, I finally present my second attempt.
There's a lot of talk amongst Peace Corps Volunteers about how loud Cambodia is to our daily life in America. I hesitate to say it's louder outright- but there are a myriad of sounds that are not a part of my everyday life in Maryland- and yes, some do seem to be starkly louder than what I knew before. However, I'd go so far as to say that Cambodia isn't necessarily louder- more so that America's sounds are stifled, muffled, by tall building, thick walls, and a life lived mostly inside. In contrast, life in Cambodia happens outside, for all to see, hear, enjoy.
In the graphics below, I've tried to capture sounds throughout the day, from sunrise to sunset, as represented by a darkening sun and its rays.
Those of you in either place- what would you add to my breakdown?
Today, I finally present my second attempt.
There's a lot of talk amongst Peace Corps Volunteers about how loud Cambodia is to our daily life in America. I hesitate to say it's louder outright- but there are a myriad of sounds that are not a part of my everyday life in Maryland- and yes, some do seem to be starkly louder than what I knew before. However, I'd go so far as to say that Cambodia isn't necessarily louder- more so that America's sounds are stifled, muffled, by tall building, thick walls, and a life lived mostly inside. In contrast, life in Cambodia happens outside, for all to see, hear, enjoy.
In the graphics below, I've tried to capture sounds throughout the day, from sunrise to sunset, as represented by a darkening sun and its rays.
Those of you in either place- what would you add to my breakdown?
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
gong khnyom (my bicycle)
Well, March just really got away from me there, didn’t it? It just slipped by as I went about my daily work, unsuspecting that I’d reach the end of it and have a mere two posts to show for it. Part of it is I’ve been making a concentrated effort to spend less time at my computer- with less than four months left here, I don’t want to wish I had done anything differently- and part of it is that I’ve been sublimely happy this month, working alongside my new counterpart (she’s basically the bomb, and deserving of that dated and somewhat tragic euphemism). I’ve been spending time planning new and invigorated lessons, and I have more energy to do all the things. So, less time inside the small white box with keys, and more outside, in the world, being.
But the focus of this post is actually how I get there- to the outside world. I’ve been using a gifted item for the past 21 months, and I figured it was about time to share my thoughts with all of you regarding the bicycle that Peace Corps Cambodia was kind enough to send to me. Hopefully, it goes without saying, this review is entirely my own, though I was given this item to me for the express purpose of its use, and I’m assuming, eventual review here on the interwebs.**
To the outside eye, my bike resembles your typical, average, everyday two-wheeled contraption. I thought that when I first received it. It did strike me as something new and different when I realized that the bike Peace Corps was gifting me was more than just a method of moving about- it was freedom.
My freedom is a cool, creamy ivory- a big juxtaposition to the typical silver plated bikes I see about town- with a roomy, spongy seat. No tiny, bikini-covered-parts crushing here, no sir! I have tested this bike on two very long bike rides, and I can tell you, it really lives up to its advertising. My butt only begins to ache after hour two, and transitions to numbness after hour four. I mean, that’s basically a reason to spring for one right now!
To make the bike a bit more me, I did add some yellow duct tape in spirals around the frame, and name it Bumblebee. I think adding the name has really bonded the bike and me in a way that I’ll never forget. I’m pretty sure that naming my transportation has led to said transportation to be kind to me. I have had minimal problems with my bike, aside from the expected bi-weekly air pump-ups, and the few times I’ve had to have the inner tube mended. (Well, there was that one time I had to buy a whole new inner tube, and it did cost $2.50, which hurt a bit, but I’m apt to blame the not-actual-asphalt-but-concrete-covering-giant-piles-of-loose-rubble roads I circulate on.)
I really think that Bumblebee can feel my love and gratitude streaming through my fingertips to the handlebar, and my tippy toes to the pedals, and this love has been returned threefold in the ease of caring for my bicycle.
I do feel like I have to mention that just this week, my back tire did finally break at a seam, and I had to purchase a new one. I guess it’s to be expected after 21 straight months of use (plus who know how many other months of use by a previous Volunteer! Oh yes, a key aspect- these bikes are recycled, which can only be good things for the environment!) I’d need to invest in something grander than just air for 7.5 cents every two weeks. Luckily, I happen to have a husband who carries more money than me (I average my daily needed .50 cents for breakfast and .60 cents for diet coke in my wallet each day), and he forked over the cash. I’m currently seeking ways to keep him from remembering that he paid, so suggestions welcome!
All in all, I have to say that if I were in the market to say goodbye to my friends and family for two years, move to a foreign (in every aspect) land, and seek to become a true part of a new community, I’d want a bicycle from Peace Corps Cambodia under my rump each day. Highly recommend this adventure and this bike, friends! Get thee to a recruiting office, now!
**This is not a real review of an item gifted to a blogger. This is satire.
But the focus of this post is actually how I get there- to the outside world. I’ve been using a gifted item for the past 21 months, and I figured it was about time to share my thoughts with all of you regarding the bicycle that Peace Corps Cambodia was kind enough to send to me. Hopefully, it goes without saying, this review is entirely my own, though I was given this item to me for the express purpose of its use, and I’m assuming, eventual review here on the interwebs.**
To the outside eye, my bike resembles your typical, average, everyday two-wheeled contraption. I thought that when I first received it. It did strike me as something new and different when I realized that the bike Peace Corps was gifting me was more than just a method of moving about- it was freedom.
My freedom is a cool, creamy ivory- a big juxtaposition to the typical silver plated bikes I see about town- with a roomy, spongy seat. No tiny, bikini-covered-parts crushing here, no sir! I have tested this bike on two very long bike rides, and I can tell you, it really lives up to its advertising. My butt only begins to ache after hour two, and transitions to numbness after hour four. I mean, that’s basically a reason to spring for one right now!
To make the bike a bit more me, I did add some yellow duct tape in spirals around the frame, and name it Bumblebee. I think adding the name has really bonded the bike and me in a way that I’ll never forget. I’m pretty sure that naming my transportation has led to said transportation to be kind to me. I have had minimal problems with my bike, aside from the expected bi-weekly air pump-ups, and the few times I’ve had to have the inner tube mended. (Well, there was that one time I had to buy a whole new inner tube, and it did cost $2.50, which hurt a bit, but I’m apt to blame the not-actual-asphalt-but-concrete-covering-giant-piles-of-loose-rubble roads I circulate on.)
I really think that Bumblebee can feel my love and gratitude streaming through my fingertips to the handlebar, and my tippy toes to the pedals, and this love has been returned threefold in the ease of caring for my bicycle.
I do feel like I have to mention that just this week, my back tire did finally break at a seam, and I had to purchase a new one. I guess it’s to be expected after 21 straight months of use (plus who know how many other months of use by a previous Volunteer! Oh yes, a key aspect- these bikes are recycled, which can only be good things for the environment!) I’d need to invest in something grander than just air for 7.5 cents every two weeks. Luckily, I happen to have a husband who carries more money than me (I average my daily needed .50 cents for breakfast and .60 cents for diet coke in my wallet each day), and he forked over the cash. I’m currently seeking ways to keep him from remembering that he paid, so suggestions welcome!
All in all, I have to say that if I were in the market to say goodbye to my friends and family for two years, move to a foreign (in every aspect) land, and seek to become a true part of a new community, I’d want a bicycle from Peace Corps Cambodia under my rump each day. Highly recommend this adventure and this bike, friends! Get thee to a recruiting office, now!
**This is not a real review of an item gifted to a blogger. This is satire.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
It's Universal, You Know.
So a few months back, Chris' Uncle John sent us the ultimate of world-uniting candy:
Pop Rocks.
And then a fantastic former co-worker sent us some more.
So we had to.
This evening, we had major pop rocks explosion fun. Check out these four videos to see it all go down.
Thank you John and Keisha- they LOVED it.
Labels:
cambodia,
culture,
good friends,
ha ha,
peace corps,
Vlog
Friday, March 8, 2013
and then i tie it all together with a great big bow
I bike a lot here the 'bode. And when I bike, I think. Ergo, I think a lot here in Cambodia. My high school English teacher (hey Ms. Keezer!) taught me when a writer takes their thoughts and lets them loose as the written word, no holds barred, letting a topic meander like a brook tripping over stones, splashing from one topic to the next- it's called stream of consciousness writing.
So what we've got here is the written, stream-like record, of my thoughts and ideas as they melded into one another earlier this week.
Welcome to the space between my ears.
..........
A month ago, I finally was given an answer to a prayer I'd been shouting in my head for eighteen months: a female co-teacher. A Khmer woman to teach alongside, to work with, to chat in English and Khmer with, to offer suggestions to, to learn from, and to build a symbiotic relationship with (you know, symbiotic: as in, we both gain something from relying on each other. It's just a Language Arts lesson up in here today, isn't it!) as we co-exist together in the small space of my teacher training center.
Sopheary is more than the answer to my pleas to the universe- she is, in fact, better than I ever could have thought to wish for. She is hilarious, and clever, and hard working, and open-minded. We jive off each other while we teach, and- this is INSANE- when she is not sure about a spelling or pronunciation, she will straight up ask me, while at the board.
This is the opposite of the vast majority of teachers I have encountered here. The education system here is based on the belief that the teacher holds all of the knowledge and it is their job to simply speak it or show it, and the student will learn. A teacher making an error? Even greater, a student knowing more than the teacher about a topic? Totally possible, but completely inconceivable.
(Which is, of course, a generalization and doesn't speak to all of the nuances of personalities that teach here, but as a generalization, is generally true and widely accepted, known, and practiced.)
Getting up to teach with Sopheary is the freshest breath of air and exactly what I needed in my final months of serving as an educator at the training center. There are so many things to say about Sopheary and her amazing work as an educator, but it can be summed it like this:
She essentially eradicates my need to be a part of the informal women's group that's been formed amongst Volunteers.
Frustrated by double standards and cultural biases and differences that led to misunderstandings, feelings of isolation, and a longing to be heard and understood, I joined the women's group to tackle not only what I'd been feeling as a woman in general, but what I've felt as a woman here in Cambodia.
Havoc, wreaked on my confidence, belief in my intelligence and value as a professional, body image and life choices. Lightly given statements that struck deep, that, as much as he tries, can never be truly understood by a compassionate husband.
A need for connection, finding similarities, relating- a need for friendships. That was the path to the women's group and relief it has brought.
Friendships among women- where we feel valued, heard and liked. Where we know that the other woman sees our beauty, our passions, our faults and our hopes and guards them like their hers, as well.
Who needs them?
I need them.
GIRLS need them. GIRLS, as in, Hannah and Marnie and Jessa and Shoshanna (oh my lord, how I love this name and her character.) In the end, it's about friendships, isn't it? What binds women together, what can drag them under, what can tear them, break them, shatter them. How strongly friendships are formed when women are confronted with similar challenges, and how quickly they can weaken when women metaphorically shift their priorities and pursuits. How we seek out women who know what we're going through- school, work, marriage, family problems, weight or exercise goals- and when we find them, how difficult it is to hold onto old friends who know longer are confronted with the same truths.
My longest lasting and most constantly evolving friendship began when I was ten. Katie and I joined the same soccer team. We went to different elementary schools, but we shared a name. I was the ridiculous, outgoing one, she was the witty, reserved one. When I went to her eleventh birthday party, it's a well known fact that her mother wasn't sure she wanted me back- I was that over-the-top energetic. But return I did, dozens of times for sleepovers, afternoon hang outs, and even more birthday parties.
Katie and I've had varying levels of connectivity over time- from those of steel, six feet wide, made from confessions of first crushes, of experiences with very first real boyfriends, of soccer practice nearly every afternoon for years to those made of slightly more tenuous leather, still ever so wide, made from high schools on opposite sides of town, of different soccer teams, of colleges thousands of miles apart.
But the connection is so real that it's as if it has always existed, since our births two month apart, twenty seven years ago.
And it all started on a soccer field.
There was a soccer tournament in our town this week- and my heart grew three sizes, I swear, when I saw two entirely female teams. And I was back in Kalispell, Montana, on a weekend tournament with my U-14 team and Katie, when I saw them traipsing through town at dusk, on the hunt for dinner, three adults trailing them, oblivious to the loud and contagious laughter coursing through the group.
Female sports teams are so rare here. Sports are for men. Men play volleyball at the makeshift courts all over town. Men play soccer on the field at the teacher training center. Men coach the all boys basketball team at the local high school.
The Women in Development/Gender and Development committee I've just joined will face this reality, among dozens of other truths that are preventing true equity amongst sexes from existing in the world.
Which brings us full circle to today. International Women's Day. A day designed to celebrate, uplift, and highlight women- our achievements, our challenges.
So Happy International Women's Day, friends- men and women alike. May you recognize the obstacles women face every day, but also, maybe more importantly, reach out to a woman you know and acknowledge your love for her- for her friendship, for her choices, for her goals, for her skills on the sports field and in her job. For her.
For it all.
...........
And if you feel like spending your IW Day showing the love, fiscally, for women here in Cambodia, consider giving something - even the smallest contribution can help and is tax deductible - to these projects.
So what we've got here is the written, stream-like record, of my thoughts and ideas as they melded into one another earlier this week.
Welcome to the space between my ears.
..........
A month ago, I finally was given an answer to a prayer I'd been shouting in my head for eighteen months: a female co-teacher. A Khmer woman to teach alongside, to work with, to chat in English and Khmer with, to offer suggestions to, to learn from, and to build a symbiotic relationship with (you know, symbiotic: as in, we both gain something from relying on each other. It's just a Language Arts lesson up in here today, isn't it!) as we co-exist together in the small space of my teacher training center.
Sopheary is more than the answer to my pleas to the universe- she is, in fact, better than I ever could have thought to wish for. She is hilarious, and clever, and hard working, and open-minded. We jive off each other while we teach, and- this is INSANE- when she is not sure about a spelling or pronunciation, she will straight up ask me, while at the board.
This is the opposite of the vast majority of teachers I have encountered here. The education system here is based on the belief that the teacher holds all of the knowledge and it is their job to simply speak it or show it, and the student will learn. A teacher making an error? Even greater, a student knowing more than the teacher about a topic? Totally possible, but completely inconceivable.
(Which is, of course, a generalization and doesn't speak to all of the nuances of personalities that teach here, but as a generalization, is generally true and widely accepted, known, and practiced.)
Getting up to teach with Sopheary is the freshest breath of air and exactly what I needed in my final months of serving as an educator at the training center. There are so many things to say about Sopheary and her amazing work as an educator, but it can be summed it like this:
She essentially eradicates my need to be a part of the informal women's group that's been formed amongst Volunteers.
Frustrated by double standards and cultural biases and differences that led to misunderstandings, feelings of isolation, and a longing to be heard and understood, I joined the women's group to tackle not only what I'd been feeling as a woman in general, but what I've felt as a woman here in Cambodia.
Havoc, wreaked on my confidence, belief in my intelligence and value as a professional, body image and life choices. Lightly given statements that struck deep, that, as much as he tries, can never be truly understood by a compassionate husband.
A need for connection, finding similarities, relating- a need for friendships. That was the path to the women's group and relief it has brought.
Friendships among women- where we feel valued, heard and liked. Where we know that the other woman sees our beauty, our passions, our faults and our hopes and guards them like their hers, as well.
Who needs them?
I need them.
GIRLS need them. GIRLS, as in, Hannah and Marnie and Jessa and Shoshanna (oh my lord, how I love this name and her character.) In the end, it's about friendships, isn't it? What binds women together, what can drag them under, what can tear them, break them, shatter them. How strongly friendships are formed when women are confronted with similar challenges, and how quickly they can weaken when women metaphorically shift their priorities and pursuits. How we seek out women who know what we're going through- school, work, marriage, family problems, weight or exercise goals- and when we find them, how difficult it is to hold onto old friends who know longer are confronted with the same truths.
My longest lasting and most constantly evolving friendship began when I was ten. Katie and I joined the same soccer team. We went to different elementary schools, but we shared a name. I was the ridiculous, outgoing one, she was the witty, reserved one. When I went to her eleventh birthday party, it's a well known fact that her mother wasn't sure she wanted me back- I was that over-the-top energetic. But return I did, dozens of times for sleepovers, afternoon hang outs, and even more birthday parties.
Katie and I've had varying levels of connectivity over time- from those of steel, six feet wide, made from confessions of first crushes, of experiences with very first real boyfriends, of soccer practice nearly every afternoon for years to those made of slightly more tenuous leather, still ever so wide, made from high schools on opposite sides of town, of different soccer teams, of colleges thousands of miles apart.
But the connection is so real that it's as if it has always existed, since our births two month apart, twenty seven years ago.
And it all started on a soccer field.
There was a soccer tournament in our town this week- and my heart grew three sizes, I swear, when I saw two entirely female teams. And I was back in Kalispell, Montana, on a weekend tournament with my U-14 team and Katie, when I saw them traipsing through town at dusk, on the hunt for dinner, three adults trailing them, oblivious to the loud and contagious laughter coursing through the group.
Female sports teams are so rare here. Sports are for men. Men play volleyball at the makeshift courts all over town. Men play soccer on the field at the teacher training center. Men coach the all boys basketball team at the local high school.
The Women in Development/Gender and Development committee I've just joined will face this reality, among dozens of other truths that are preventing true equity amongst sexes from existing in the world.
Which brings us full circle to today. International Women's Day. A day designed to celebrate, uplift, and highlight women- our achievements, our challenges.
So Happy International Women's Day, friends- men and women alike. May you recognize the obstacles women face every day, but also, maybe more importantly, reach out to a woman you know and acknowledge your love for her- for her friendship, for her choices, for her goals, for her skills on the sports field and in her job. For her.
For it all.
...........
And if you feel like spending your IW Day showing the love, fiscally, for women here in Cambodia, consider giving something - even the smallest contribution can help and is tax deductible - to these projects.
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