- I got married
- I got pregnant
- I studied sociology for 9 months in Istanbul, Turkey
- I finished my two-year commitment to the Peace Corps
- I attempted a marathon in Cheverny, France
- I travelled to Paris, France and Nis, Serbia.
- I completed my courses for my bachelor’s degree.
- I co-wrote a cookbook.
- I did a bike trip along the northern section of the Black Sea coast of Bulgaria.
- I moved back to Bulgaria.
- I had an evil landlord.
- I fell in love, hard.
- I saw my parents.
- I said farewell to a very good friend.
- Debated becoming a professional academic.
- Had courses given by two of the most amazing professors in my academic career.
- Went through immigration processes.
- I started growing dreads again.
- I learned to swim.
- I learned to ride a bike in a metropolitan environment.
- I saw a Monet exhibition, and decided that I actually enjoy art.
- My political ideas began to mature a bit, although I am still unclear exactly where I stand--- most of it is slightly anarchist, and slightly communist.
- I “saw” the Gezi Park protests.
- I took many things apart, and put most of them back together.
- I learned a bit of Turkish, and forgot a lot of Bulgarian.
- I rode ferry boats.
- I went skiing.
- I cut my husband’s hair.
- Went camping on the black sea coast of Turkey.
- I ate a surprisingly large amount of sushi for my locations.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
30 things in my 30th year:
Thursday, August 15, 2013
TTitD
This year I am having a particularly difficult time with Burning Man. I can't even remember the last time that I went (Wait, yes I can- the last year before I left for Bulgaria- only three years ago?). It is all just a haze of positive memories wrapped up and tucked away in a place that I will probably never have access to. Yet, even though the specifics aren't available (I can't tell you what year which art pieces were there, or who I was dating) I am having an overwhelming nostalgia for the place and the overall experience. The dust. The openness. The cold nights. The hot days. The absolute freedom and safety that I felt there. For the past two years I have felt some desire to go, but the idea of Bulgaria and the peace corps was always a temporary situation- I was able to tell myself that I will go when I return. Now, living permanently in Bulgaria with a kidlet on the way I am starting to realize that even if I somehow make it back to that place, I will never, ever be able to return to that experience. That is not to say that I might not find a greater form of freedom and expression some year as a mother at Burning Man, but I will never be that completely careless, nearly savage girl that I remember being there.
So, that makes it a little difficult this year, reading about the last minute packing, the surprise tickets that people could not afford and did not expect to be gifted, the changes in camps, the scrambling to get art together and out there. I feel a pang for it, and I deeply wish that I could be a part of it. I think that is perhaps what I miss the most- being part of such a strange and vibrant 'community.' Even if it is a stretch to call the people who frequent Burning Man a community, for those ten-fifteen days that is what it felt like. I felt like I had found a place in the world, people who listened to me, and who shared with me. A bit of respect, a role I could fulfill. It truly was one of the few places on this planet that felt like... home.
So, that makes it a little difficult this year, reading about the last minute packing, the surprise tickets that people could not afford and did not expect to be gifted, the changes in camps, the scrambling to get art together and out there. I feel a pang for it, and I deeply wish that I could be a part of it. I think that is perhaps what I miss the most- being part of such a strange and vibrant 'community.' Even if it is a stretch to call the people who frequent Burning Man a community, for those ten-fifteen days that is what it felt like. I felt like I had found a place in the world, people who listened to me, and who shared with me. A bit of respect, a role I could fulfill. It truly was one of the few places on this planet that felt like... home.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Work
For the most part my experience with labor has been varied, but mostly I am the person applying for positions. Occasionally I am the one helping people apply for positions, and a few times I have been on the interviewing side of things. What I have never been: someone who has created jobs. Except maybe I have been. Working at summer camps for so many years where every child (and counselor who is barely beyond childhood) needs to feel productive and included I have definitely had some experience at breaking down tasks in creative ways so that everyone gets to participate. Sure, these weren't long term positions, but maybe the principles are similar.
I was reading an article last year about the unemployment rate in the US, and the creation of jobs. I believe the article was getting at the idea that we need to not only create jobs but also work to match people to those jobs because the jobs that are being created are left unfilled, and the unemployment rate is not decreasing. This article got me thinking- stewing, like I do- about work, unemployment, and labor. I have never been much of a Marxist, thinking that everything in society boils down to labor practices and the means of production. But in the past year I have definitely began to change, and I am starting to see that the creation of jobs is somewhat... sticky.
When we read an article about the creation of jobs our first reaction is generally one of satisfaction. Yay! There are jobs. I will have employment!!! But how often do we look deeper into the things that we are doing. How many of the jobs being created are actually meaningful, and how many are just another layer of bureaucracy- an extension of already meaningless, unfulfilling work? How many jobs could we, honestly, do without these days? Yet, these types of jobs continue and even grow because everyone needs a way to make money. Unless we change the very fabric of our society then people will continue to press to work more, and earn more, even if ultimately that work creates very little.
I see it very similarly to summer camp. I have 24 girls to clean a cafeteria that could be cleaned by 6. At that point I have a few choices:
- I can send 18 of the girls onto their next activity, and just keep 6 girls behind to work. However, this is not, "fair," and there will be many complaints. This is similar to the way people complain if everyone in society gets the same benefits even though only some of them work.
- I can create extra tasks that are meaningless, such as drying the tables (which would air dry perfectly well). This is what America seems to be doing at the moment. Everyone needs a job, even if it is ultimately pointless, or could be done by one person in half the time.
- I can find creative ways to divide the tasks, either through shifts, or by breaking up everything into tiny pieces. Even with the efficiency lost through transition this would still be faster than having just 6 girls work and so I should have extra activities prepared to fill that extra time. That right there, is a major problem (along with huge amounts of greed)- people don't know how to fill that extra time if they are not working. Working only four hours a day or only 6 months a year? It isn't a question of not being able to earn enough money (although there is no such thing as "enough" in this age) but more a question of being afraid of free time that prevents this solution.
Overall I think there is a huge secret: humans like to work. We like to feel needed and to feel like we are contributing something. The easiest way to do this is through labor- paid labor where we put a monetary value on our contribution. But what if we found other ways to contribute- through personal connections and growth in the arts and expression? Would that be enough? Would the four hour workday ever satisfy people? And, would the greed of the people creating jobs, and the consumerism of the workers ever allow for that change?
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Hot Peppers dipped in testosterone
I like spicy food. Nothing super spicy, but definitely food with a bit of kick. I am a big fan of hot peppers, but I like them best when they are baked and pickled in vinegar and garlic to give them a lot of flavor instead of just heat. Similarly I like chipotle peppers, and very flavorful chili that warms my mouth down to my belly. I usually pass up foods that are hot just for the sake of being hot, and things that really burn my lips without any balancing flavors or experiences.
I haven't always liked spicy food. As a child I absolutely hated it. I remember my father tricking me into trying a big bite of spicy chinese mustard at a restaurant in Boston. As a ten year old my knowledge of mustards was limited to French's (or more exactly, some off-brand form of the mild, unassuming sandwich mustard), and so I was expecting something mild, sweet, and tasty. I dipped a too-small chunk of bread into too much of the mustard. I had not expected the harsh, burning flavor of the chinese mustard, and as it filled my nostrils and made my eyes water I drank glass after glass of water, my father finally cluing me into the bread on the table as a good alternative to the water. I also remember many "hot-pot-lucks" that my family attended. They were at our pastor's house, and included the various members of the worship team from our church. Our pastor made pasta fazul, my dad, the guitarist, made his very hot chili, and Jane, the pianist, made volcanic meatballs. The adults sat around the living room turning various shades of red and dripping sweat from their faces. They cried and laughed and snot dripped from their noses. Looking back at it now I should have equated the adrenaline they were seeking in the hot-foods with the high that they sometimes exhibited during church. Apparently god is a spicy experience. I never understood it, but the pastor's wife made us kids a pizza, baked on a stone in her oven, and that made these monthly gatherings okay, if not something to look forward to.
I am not really sure exactly when my attitude towards spicy food started to change. It was probably something as simple as being given hot sauce at taco bell instead of the mild that I usually requested, and realizing that the vinegary substance, when mixed in with shredded lettuce, was not only, "not so bad," but actually something desirable. I was perhaps 17 years old when that happened. After that I found that I could stand light dashes of hot sauce, and hot peppers stuffed with cheese weren't so bad. Over the years I grew to really like hot sauce... many afternoons on Guam were spent at the Korean bbq, sipping a spicy corona (a corona tinted red with tabasco and fizzy with lime), and I had a strong desire for the full-body tingle that came with just the right amount of wasabi tucked into a kappa hosomaki. Eventually that respect grew to a love of spicy food. But I remained a spice snob. Although I began to enjoy the warmth that spice gave I did not like foods that made me sweat or cry. That seemed like a bit too much. I liked to hold the warmth inside of me, like a secret.
One of the things that I really do not enjoy about spicy food is the way that it is associated with masculinity. A lot of men (and some women) I know feel the need to "conquer" spicy foods, or enter into a competition as soon as hot-sauce comes out. In my mind this competition makes the ordeal a lot less about the actual experience that can be achieved through spicy food. There is something beautiful in the pure enjoyment of spice. In some ways it can be nearly spiritual. But when it becomes about being better than others, or gets tied into your masculinity I feel that it becomes cheapened. Last week I was out with a few boys for dinner. A particularly spicy pepper came with my beans and sausage, and I was actually genuinely excited to try it. Since becoming pregnant my sense of taste has become quite sensitive and I haven't tried many spicy foods, but as the morning sickness is finally starting to subside I am ready to take those ventures again. I mentioned that I was a late bloomer in regards to spicy foods, and didn't really like them until I was about 17. I was just making conversation, but one of the boys picked up on the topic, and with a very proud, challenging tone, said that he liked spicy things when he was only 15. He continued to go on talking about various spicy peppers he had recently eaten, which had made him cry and sweat. In that moment the experience became less about the pepper and more of a competition. I felt awkward towards the pepper- like if it happened to be too spicy for me I was loosing a challenge, and yet I couldn't not internalize his competitive concept into myself. I wanted to win and prove myself. Moreover, I wanted to disprove his masculinity in return for stealing my moment of genuine spice-appreciation. I ended up passing on the pepper altogether, letting that young man bathe in his concepts of masculinity. It just wasn't worth it.
But, here's the thing: I do happen to like spicy food. I like how it feels. I like how it releases endorphins and little bonding chemicals. I like it even though I am a female and don't equate it at all with an accomplishment. Spice is an experience, not a measure of my worth. I dislike feeling like I am on a battlefield any time the peppers come out and people measure whether I can stand their "hot, Bulgarian peppers," and I dislike feeling like I am in a pissing contest whenever I happen to enjoy something with a bit of fire around males. I am a non-competitive woman, and I like spicy food. Maybe I have to tuck away into the darkness of solitude to eat it, but there is the truth.
I haven't always liked spicy food. As a child I absolutely hated it. I remember my father tricking me into trying a big bite of spicy chinese mustard at a restaurant in Boston. As a ten year old my knowledge of mustards was limited to French's (or more exactly, some off-brand form of the mild, unassuming sandwich mustard), and so I was expecting something mild, sweet, and tasty. I dipped a too-small chunk of bread into too much of the mustard. I had not expected the harsh, burning flavor of the chinese mustard, and as it filled my nostrils and made my eyes water I drank glass after glass of water, my father finally cluing me into the bread on the table as a good alternative to the water. I also remember many "hot-pot-lucks" that my family attended. They were at our pastor's house, and included the various members of the worship team from our church. Our pastor made pasta fazul, my dad, the guitarist, made his very hot chili, and Jane, the pianist, made volcanic meatballs. The adults sat around the living room turning various shades of red and dripping sweat from their faces. They cried and laughed and snot dripped from their noses. Looking back at it now I should have equated the adrenaline they were seeking in the hot-foods with the high that they sometimes exhibited during church. Apparently god is a spicy experience. I never understood it, but the pastor's wife made us kids a pizza, baked on a stone in her oven, and that made these monthly gatherings okay, if not something to look forward to.
I am not really sure exactly when my attitude towards spicy food started to change. It was probably something as simple as being given hot sauce at taco bell instead of the mild that I usually requested, and realizing that the vinegary substance, when mixed in with shredded lettuce, was not only, "not so bad," but actually something desirable. I was perhaps 17 years old when that happened. After that I found that I could stand light dashes of hot sauce, and hot peppers stuffed with cheese weren't so bad. Over the years I grew to really like hot sauce... many afternoons on Guam were spent at the Korean bbq, sipping a spicy corona (a corona tinted red with tabasco and fizzy with lime), and I had a strong desire for the full-body tingle that came with just the right amount of wasabi tucked into a kappa hosomaki. Eventually that respect grew to a love of spicy food. But I remained a spice snob. Although I began to enjoy the warmth that spice gave I did not like foods that made me sweat or cry. That seemed like a bit too much. I liked to hold the warmth inside of me, like a secret.
One of the things that I really do not enjoy about spicy food is the way that it is associated with masculinity. A lot of men (and some women) I know feel the need to "conquer" spicy foods, or enter into a competition as soon as hot-sauce comes out. In my mind this competition makes the ordeal a lot less about the actual experience that can be achieved through spicy food. There is something beautiful in the pure enjoyment of spice. In some ways it can be nearly spiritual. But when it becomes about being better than others, or gets tied into your masculinity I feel that it becomes cheapened. Last week I was out with a few boys for dinner. A particularly spicy pepper came with my beans and sausage, and I was actually genuinely excited to try it. Since becoming pregnant my sense of taste has become quite sensitive and I haven't tried many spicy foods, but as the morning sickness is finally starting to subside I am ready to take those ventures again. I mentioned that I was a late bloomer in regards to spicy foods, and didn't really like them until I was about 17. I was just making conversation, but one of the boys picked up on the topic, and with a very proud, challenging tone, said that he liked spicy things when he was only 15. He continued to go on talking about various spicy peppers he had recently eaten, which had made him cry and sweat. In that moment the experience became less about the pepper and more of a competition. I felt awkward towards the pepper- like if it happened to be too spicy for me I was loosing a challenge, and yet I couldn't not internalize his competitive concept into myself. I wanted to win and prove myself. Moreover, I wanted to disprove his masculinity in return for stealing my moment of genuine spice-appreciation. I ended up passing on the pepper altogether, letting that young man bathe in his concepts of masculinity. It just wasn't worth it.
But, here's the thing: I do happen to like spicy food. I like how it feels. I like how it releases endorphins and little bonding chemicals. I like it even though I am a female and don't equate it at all with an accomplishment. Spice is an experience, not a measure of my worth. I dislike feeling like I am on a battlefield any time the peppers come out and people measure whether I can stand their "hot, Bulgarian peppers," and I dislike feeling like I am in a pissing contest whenever I happen to enjoy something with a bit of fire around males. I am a non-competitive woman, and I like spicy food. Maybe I have to tuck away into the darkness of solitude to eat it, but there is the truth.
Monday, July 22, 2013
The Disgusting World of Freelance...
Okay, maybe my title is a bit harsh. Freelance work is not all disgusting. In fact, I am quite envious of Nikola's ability to survive in the freelance world. The aspect that disgusts me happens to be the only area that I am really qualified to work in: freelance writing.
Since I will be needing to stay home or at least a year starting this winter I have decided to look into options for making money online. This produces the usual anxiety that accompanies assessing your skills, desires, interests and boundaries. However, the things that people ask you to do online really stretch those boundaries, making the lines of your ethics fill in thickly. I am not talking about all of the advertisements for cam-girls, disguised thinly as "virtual assistants," or not disguised at all. Sex-work, although something that isn't for me these days, is something that I can respect. (Although at the price of $4 an hour I am starting to question what capitalism and globalization is really doing for the world.) No, the posts that really disgust me are the people looking for academic writers.
I am not really sure what I expected when I opened the freelancer section entitled, "academic writing." Perhaps assistance on research projects. Maybe tutoring. Maybe even blogs and electronic publications that are trying to have a more academic approach to their content. Of course I suspected some college students trying to have their papers written for them. What I did not realize was the extent of this rampant deceit. Almost every post was seeking someone to write some sort of paper, motivational statement or entrance essay. This went all the way up for someone requesting that their 20,000 word dissertation for their MBA be written. Not edited. Not assisted. Written. This is something that I have come to expect in Buglaria and Turkey. Grades are purchased. Homework, if it is done at all, is rarely done by those who claim to have done it. But these are jobs coming from the United States, where academic integrity is supposed to mean something. I guess that degrees are purchased all over the world. I waiver in the areas of cv's and motivational statements when the client gives you all of the information about themselves and just wants you to organize it. That seems sticky, but it has come to be acceptable in this world where presentation is everything. I draw an appalled line directly in front of plagiarism.
Of course this is hypocritical. When I was 10 I was writing essays for my older brother. Nothing complex, just book reports, with a promise of payment that I never saw. I wrote my friend's speeches in exchange for her cleaning my room in high school. But that was different. It was stupid and inconsequential. I definitely didn't know what I was doing and how important it is for individuals to be themselves, and how it just decays our society when we are built on never-ending lies about who we are and what we can do.
Between the terrible social consequences of labor without ethics, and the incredibly low wages associated with outsourcing writing I am thinking that becoming a freelance writer is probably not for me. For now I put in an application at one of the local language centers and I will hopefully be able to work there until December. Then, maybe I will take the encouraging offer of my husband to finish off one or two of the books that I am working on while I am home all winter while he works in a world of freelance that is at least skill based and a little less "ghostwriter."
Since I will be needing to stay home or at least a year starting this winter I have decided to look into options for making money online. This produces the usual anxiety that accompanies assessing your skills, desires, interests and boundaries. However, the things that people ask you to do online really stretch those boundaries, making the lines of your ethics fill in thickly. I am not talking about all of the advertisements for cam-girls, disguised thinly as "virtual assistants," or not disguised at all. Sex-work, although something that isn't for me these days, is something that I can respect. (Although at the price of $4 an hour I am starting to question what capitalism and globalization is really doing for the world.) No, the posts that really disgust me are the people looking for academic writers.
I am not really sure what I expected when I opened the freelancer section entitled, "academic writing." Perhaps assistance on research projects. Maybe tutoring. Maybe even blogs and electronic publications that are trying to have a more academic approach to their content. Of course I suspected some college students trying to have their papers written for them. What I did not realize was the extent of this rampant deceit. Almost every post was seeking someone to write some sort of paper, motivational statement or entrance essay. This went all the way up for someone requesting that their 20,000 word dissertation for their MBA be written. Not edited. Not assisted. Written. This is something that I have come to expect in Buglaria and Turkey. Grades are purchased. Homework, if it is done at all, is rarely done by those who claim to have done it. But these are jobs coming from the United States, where academic integrity is supposed to mean something. I guess that degrees are purchased all over the world. I waiver in the areas of cv's and motivational statements when the client gives you all of the information about themselves and just wants you to organize it. That seems sticky, but it has come to be acceptable in this world where presentation is everything. I draw an appalled line directly in front of plagiarism.
Of course this is hypocritical. When I was 10 I was writing essays for my older brother. Nothing complex, just book reports, with a promise of payment that I never saw. I wrote my friend's speeches in exchange for her cleaning my room in high school. But that was different. It was stupid and inconsequential. I definitely didn't know what I was doing and how important it is for individuals to be themselves, and how it just decays our society when we are built on never-ending lies about who we are and what we can do.
Between the terrible social consequences of labor without ethics, and the incredibly low wages associated with outsourcing writing I am thinking that becoming a freelance writer is probably not for me. For now I put in an application at one of the local language centers and I will hopefully be able to work there until December. Then, maybe I will take the encouraging offer of my husband to finish off one or two of the books that I am working on while I am home all winter while he works in a world of freelance that is at least skill based and a little less "ghostwriter."
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Understanding.
I wish I understood more of what was going on in Istanbul these days. It isn't a matter of not keeping up on the news. I get my daily dose of papers, blogs, and facebook feed. It isn't a matter of not having friends in the "know." I have people who can tell me this and that is happening, and why they think it is happening, and what, exactly, they will be protesting any given evening. But the fact of the matter is that I don't believe that anyone actually knows what is going on here. Reporters continue to report. Social scientists have stepped in, from anthropology to economy, to make their comments. The prime minister and his team continue to spin in one direction, the protesters in the opposite, and international media in a third. Overall it makes no sense, and what gets me, what is absolutely terrifying to me, is that as the violence dies down and people go about their daily business, it seems that the Turkish government has won and will write history. Ten years ago I would not have minded the government winning. Sometimes it is better for the people if the government wins, I thought. These days the anarchist in me hopes strongly for the underdog to win. But hopes and political theories aside, this is what I know:
Yesterday I went to sushi with Nikola and his co-workers. I decided that I would take the metro from Taksim, just to see how things were now that (from what I have heard) things have died down. When I got to Taksim it did not appear that things had died down at all. There was a line of police men all around the statue in Taksim square, and surrounding the main square as well. At every entrance to Taksim officers were refusing to let people pass. I asked to be let down into the metro and was informed that I could not pass. I decided to walk around and barely made it out of the square before officers sealed off another entrance. I walked about a kilometer down the road to the next metro station, all the while passing police officers streaming into Taksim.
I was told last night was special. It was a memorial for one of the men who had died during the protests (now being called riots?) and of course the police needed to increase their presence. But one thing truly bothers me. The statement that the prime minister gave about the park needing to be open to all. I already commented on the absurdity of that statement as a park is not "open to all" if it is being torn down. But last night I wondered, how on earth can any one trust that man when this is his definition of, "open to all." Apparently, "open to all," means that it is sealed off by police to the point that public transit isn't working and people cannot even walk through a space, let alone rest and enjoy it. I was down in the park during the protests. They were truly open to all. I feel that anyone could have gone down there and wandered, and spoken, and existed. Now, they are closed. Now they have been taken by a singular, selfish group making claims that they know what is best for everyone. "Open to all," means that they are apparently protecting it from everyone. It was tragic.
Yesterday I went to sushi with Nikola and his co-workers. I decided that I would take the metro from Taksim, just to see how things were now that (from what I have heard) things have died down. When I got to Taksim it did not appear that things had died down at all. There was a line of police men all around the statue in Taksim square, and surrounding the main square as well. At every entrance to Taksim officers were refusing to let people pass. I asked to be let down into the metro and was informed that I could not pass. I decided to walk around and barely made it out of the square before officers sealed off another entrance. I walked about a kilometer down the road to the next metro station, all the while passing police officers streaming into Taksim.
I was told last night was special. It was a memorial for one of the men who had died during the protests (now being called riots?) and of course the police needed to increase their presence. But one thing truly bothers me. The statement that the prime minister gave about the park needing to be open to all. I already commented on the absurdity of that statement as a park is not "open to all" if it is being torn down. But last night I wondered, how on earth can any one trust that man when this is his definition of, "open to all." Apparently, "open to all," means that it is sealed off by police to the point that public transit isn't working and people cannot even walk through a space, let alone rest and enjoy it. I was down in the park during the protests. They were truly open to all. I feel that anyone could have gone down there and wandered, and spoken, and existed. Now, they are closed. Now they have been taken by a singular, selfish group making claims that they know what is best for everyone. "Open to all," means that they are apparently protecting it from everyone. It was tragic.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Same-sex couples in the Peace Corps
http://www.advocate.com/travel/2013/05/22/peace-corps-recognizes-respects-same-sex-couples
I want to start by saying that I am not exactly against this. I am more confused by it as I am unsure of how the implementation will actually take place. I am also slightly tired from it as it re-enforces the ideal of the romantic relationship as the most important, end-all relationship in everyone's life.
I know that in Bulgaria the Peace Corps staff encouraged LGBTQ volunteers to remain closeted when they were at their sites, and to only tell people who they knew very closely and were sure would keep it a secret. This is partially due to the safety of volunteers, and partially due to the effectiveness of volunteers. I have heard countless rude, gross things said about gay men in Bulgaria, some in jest, and some fueled by obvious hate, and so it is easy for me to understand how the effectiveness of a volunteer to complete his work could be compromised if he (or she) was outed as gay. Volunteers are often in high profile positions, working with mayors, schools, etc, and so keeping an image within the host country is important. I am not saying that every site is the same, or every country, but I can definitely see why we were instructed to be cautious in this area of our lives.
With that being, unfortunately, accepted I am wondering how they will work with this. Will they send same-sex couples to countries where it is acceptable? I am sure those exist, somewhere. Or will they play the same-sex couple off as, "good friends serving together?" It seems odd when no other volunteers get good friends to help them, and all other people placed together and especially living together happen to be married. Maybe the set up in different countries would allow for this without suspicion.
But, what really gets me, is how many times my best friend during service and I wished that we could have been assigned to the same site. There were so many ways that we could have played off of each other's strengths and really benefited the host country while offering much needed support to each other. But, people who are not married are required to serve alone. It is supposedly better for integration. The Peace Corps does not recognize that for some people integration is actually facilitated (and not hindered) by having an integration wing-man. But the entire Peace Corps program is set up to isolate volunteers and romanticizes the experience as a lonely volunteer as authentic and necessary. This is unless, of course, the person has a valid romantic partner.
I want to know why romance is so highly valued by the government, and why does it get to be judged and validated by the government. A couple cannot be long-term dating, they must be married. Same-sex couples who can't get married have to sign an affidavit basically, I assume, saying that their relationship is like a marriage- committed and based on love. To me it is bullshit. How does romantic-love better serve the host country than two friends who are also committed to each other, neither sexually or romantically involved, and yet perhaps have worked together for many years? Why can they not serve together but two people who are romantically involved but maybe can't work at all together professionally can? Why is the romantic relationship the only one considered important and given special preference?
I get that this is in some ways very important for gay rights. However, at the same time I believe it is reinforcing this myth of monogamy and romance as the two most important factors in life. Granted, I am married now so that I can enjoy the benefits of the government recognition of my relationship as lasting, authentic, and positive for the community. But I don't believe it should be necessary, or it should be worshiped quite as strongly.
I want to start by saying that I am not exactly against this. I am more confused by it as I am unsure of how the implementation will actually take place. I am also slightly tired from it as it re-enforces the ideal of the romantic relationship as the most important, end-all relationship in everyone's life.
I know that in Bulgaria the Peace Corps staff encouraged LGBTQ volunteers to remain closeted when they were at their sites, and to only tell people who they knew very closely and were sure would keep it a secret. This is partially due to the safety of volunteers, and partially due to the effectiveness of volunteers. I have heard countless rude, gross things said about gay men in Bulgaria, some in jest, and some fueled by obvious hate, and so it is easy for me to understand how the effectiveness of a volunteer to complete his work could be compromised if he (or she) was outed as gay. Volunteers are often in high profile positions, working with mayors, schools, etc, and so keeping an image within the host country is important. I am not saying that every site is the same, or every country, but I can definitely see why we were instructed to be cautious in this area of our lives.
With that being, unfortunately, accepted I am wondering how they will work with this. Will they send same-sex couples to countries where it is acceptable? I am sure those exist, somewhere. Or will they play the same-sex couple off as, "good friends serving together?" It seems odd when no other volunteers get good friends to help them, and all other people placed together and especially living together happen to be married. Maybe the set up in different countries would allow for this without suspicion.
But, what really gets me, is how many times my best friend during service and I wished that we could have been assigned to the same site. There were so many ways that we could have played off of each other's strengths and really benefited the host country while offering much needed support to each other. But, people who are not married are required to serve alone. It is supposedly better for integration. The Peace Corps does not recognize that for some people integration is actually facilitated (and not hindered) by having an integration wing-man. But the entire Peace Corps program is set up to isolate volunteers and romanticizes the experience as a lonely volunteer as authentic and necessary. This is unless, of course, the person has a valid romantic partner.
I want to know why romance is so highly valued by the government, and why does it get to be judged and validated by the government. A couple cannot be long-term dating, they must be married. Same-sex couples who can't get married have to sign an affidavit basically, I assume, saying that their relationship is like a marriage- committed and based on love. To me it is bullshit. How does romantic-love better serve the host country than two friends who are also committed to each other, neither sexually or romantically involved, and yet perhaps have worked together for many years? Why can they not serve together but two people who are romantically involved but maybe can't work at all together professionally can? Why is the romantic relationship the only one considered important and given special preference?
I get that this is in some ways very important for gay rights. However, at the same time I believe it is reinforcing this myth of monogamy and romance as the two most important factors in life. Granted, I am married now so that I can enjoy the benefits of the government recognition of my relationship as lasting, authentic, and positive for the community. But I don't believe it should be necessary, or it should be worshiped quite as strongly.
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