"Sit down, go ahead and make yourself at home," my Peace Corps recruiter smiled, waving me to a comfy soft swivel chair. She was older, perhaps early 60s, and had an incredible flare of energy surrounding her. The purple streaks she had dyed at the sides of her otherwise silvery temples matched her dangling purple earrings. "My women in Morocco made them for me," she said, catching my glance. My women? I thought with quick irritation. WHO do YOU own exactly? I tried to brush away this offhanded remark.The room was bright, filled with warm August Seattle sunshine, yet it was sparsely furnished except for the table and chairs. A huge map of the world settled itself perfectly on the wall behind my recruiter's left shoulder. Just in case I forget what I'm getting myself into, I thought dryly. It's only the whole world in front of me.
I applied for the Peace Corps July 1st, in the middle of the organization's 50th anniversary of service abroad. As I sat in that swivel chair two months later, waiting for my recruiter to begin asking questions my mind was swirling, mainly from a desire - an absolutely compelling, consuming desire - to share what I've seen, heard, witnessed, and learned over the last few years and to prove that I was ready for whatever task the Peace Corps could throw at me. I had worked hard for this moment. I had dreamed of joining the Peace Corps since junior high, and with sudden stark clarity, I realized that this interview was "it." This could be the beginning of the next chapter in my life. A little jolt of excitement shot through me and I resurfaced from my thoughts, tearing my eyes away from the map and back to my recruiter's silvery-purple hair.
The questions were rapid and successive, ranging from "Why do you want to be a Peace Corps volunteer?" to specific questions about my skills and various qualifications and how I can contribute to the Peace Corps mission. Because of my experience teaching/tutoring primarily English at both the middle school and collegiate level, we quickly affirmed that I would be most competitive in the final selection process as an English teacher. That gave me the opportunity talk about how I've worked with students with a variety of learning styles in the past, and how my aspirations as a Peace Corps volunteer stem from wanting to use the privilege and means that I possess to provide the tools and resources necessary to enable people around the world to empower themselves.
Considering my immersion in racial justice and post-colonialism studies throughout the last year however, I couldn't help but wonder before walking into the Seattle recruitment office: could the Peace Corps be considered a form of neocolonialism? As volunteers are we fostering good will and earning the trust of communities for the right reasons? Is the organization as idealistic as its founder, John F. Kennedy intended? Are the "good works" volunteers pursue directed by local, organic actors and only supported by skilled American volunteers? There's nothing more destructive than creating relationships of dependency that continue to ingrain inequities rather than foster autonomy. And while I didn't necessarily say this as bluntly during my interview (although I hinted heavily) I think that Peace Corps service, if conducted without a consciousness of patronizing behaviors, can actually do more harm than good. Anytime you have a Westerner (especially a white, blond, blue-eyed woman like me - an incredibly stereotypical image), coming into a generally impoverished community that may or may not have colonialism in its recent history, it can potentially send the same message that was sent for decades or even centuries before: we're here to "save" you because you need help, and we know best.
Speaking only from my own experiences, such a script - of perceived cultural inferiority when compared to the grandeur of the West, especially the United States - seems to have become overwhelmingly adopted and internalized by "othered" peoples. This remains incredibly disturbing, especially because when I travel, I become a personal embodiment of everything America represents. Hence, I find it problematic placing myself in a position of power in which I would be heralded as an "outsider" coming in to "fix" a community's problems in only 27 months.
I struggled with this for many months, trying to decide which direction to go. When I showed up to the interview, I wanted to hold conviction in whatever decision I had made. But it made me wrestle with some ideological demons.
In the end, I decided that it was precisely because of my doubts to serve that I must go. And don't mistake me: I don't doubt my ability to adapt and thrive in any environment in which the Peace Corps places me. I understand the highs and lows of culture shock, believe me! Rather, I came to realize that the doubts about my role and authority within the community I would serve give me the very consciousness and awareness necessary to be an effective and respectful Peace Corps volunteer. I'm sure there are mistakes made, by everyone. But overall, I have something to contribute to the world, to help make the world a little bit better of a place. Acting with humility and respect, I intend to help someone help themselves.
Of course, I'm sure I'm so completely naive, not having entered service or even basic orientation and training yet. This may be just a bunch of idealistic, romantic regurgitations from a liberal arts student hell-bent on creating something good and beautiful in a world that people love to hate so much.
But then, my recruiter's departing words come back to me, with a swish of those purple earrings: "We're always looking for the unfulfilled idealist - someone who actively envisions how the world ought to be."
If that's the case, then I can guarantee that you've found just the right woman for the job, ma'am.
I applied for the Peace Corps July 1st, in the middle of the organization's 50th anniversary of service abroad. As I sat in that swivel chair two months later, waiting for my recruiter to begin asking questions my mind was swirling, mainly from a desire - an absolutely compelling, consuming desire - to share what I've seen, heard, witnessed, and learned over the last few years and to prove that I was ready for whatever task the Peace Corps could throw at me. I had worked hard for this moment. I had dreamed of joining the Peace Corps since junior high, and with sudden stark clarity, I realized that this interview was "it." This could be the beginning of the next chapter in my life. A little jolt of excitement shot through me and I resurfaced from my thoughts, tearing my eyes away from the map and back to my recruiter's silvery-purple hair.
The questions were rapid and successive, ranging from "Why do you want to be a Peace Corps volunteer?" to specific questions about my skills and various qualifications and how I can contribute to the Peace Corps mission. Because of my experience teaching/tutoring primarily English at both the middle school and collegiate level, we quickly affirmed that I would be most competitive in the final selection process as an English teacher. That gave me the opportunity talk about how I've worked with students with a variety of learning styles in the past, and how my aspirations as a Peace Corps volunteer stem from wanting to use the privilege and means that I possess to provide the tools and resources necessary to enable people around the world to empower themselves.
Considering my immersion in racial justice and post-colonialism studies throughout the last year however, I couldn't help but wonder before walking into the Seattle recruitment office: could the Peace Corps be considered a form of neocolonialism? As volunteers are we fostering good will and earning the trust of communities for the right reasons? Is the organization as idealistic as its founder, John F. Kennedy intended? Are the "good works" volunteers pursue directed by local, organic actors and only supported by skilled American volunteers? There's nothing more destructive than creating relationships of dependency that continue to ingrain inequities rather than foster autonomy. And while I didn't necessarily say this as bluntly during my interview (although I hinted heavily) I think that Peace Corps service, if conducted without a consciousness of patronizing behaviors, can actually do more harm than good. Anytime you have a Westerner (especially a white, blond, blue-eyed woman like me - an incredibly stereotypical image), coming into a generally impoverished community that may or may not have colonialism in its recent history, it can potentially send the same message that was sent for decades or even centuries before: we're here to "save" you because you need help, and we know best.Speaking only from my own experiences, such a script - of perceived cultural inferiority when compared to the grandeur of the West, especially the United States - seems to have become overwhelmingly adopted and internalized by "othered" peoples. This remains incredibly disturbing, especially because when I travel, I become a personal embodiment of everything America represents. Hence, I find it problematic placing myself in a position of power in which I would be heralded as an "outsider" coming in to "fix" a community's problems in only 27 months.
I struggled with this for many months, trying to decide which direction to go. When I showed up to the interview, I wanted to hold conviction in whatever decision I had made. But it made me wrestle with some ideological demons.
In the end, I decided that it was precisely because of my doubts to serve that I must go. And don't mistake me: I don't doubt my ability to adapt and thrive in any environment in which the Peace Corps places me. I understand the highs and lows of culture shock, believe me! Rather, I came to realize that the doubts about my role and authority within the community I would serve give me the very consciousness and awareness necessary to be an effective and respectful Peace Corps volunteer. I'm sure there are mistakes made, by everyone. But overall, I have something to contribute to the world, to help make the world a little bit better of a place. Acting with humility and respect, I intend to help someone help themselves.
Of course, I'm sure I'm so completely naive, not having entered service or even basic orientation and training yet. This may be just a bunch of idealistic, romantic regurgitations from a liberal arts student hell-bent on creating something good and beautiful in a world that people love to hate so much.
But then, my recruiter's departing words come back to me, with a swish of those purple earrings: "We're always looking for the unfulfilled idealist - someone who actively envisions how the world ought to be."
If that's the case, then I can guarantee that you've found just the right woman for the job, ma'am.
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