Something I wrote up for a diversity presentation to the new round of PCVs here in Cambodia:
Share one negative experience in Cambodia related to your specific social identity, and how you dealt with it.
When I landed in Phnom Penh for the start of my Peace Corps experience, I weighed around 215 pounds. Being so obviously different from the others in my group (and especially from the Khmer perception of what Americans look like) has been difficult. From tuk tuk drivers charging more if I rode to strangers openly discussing my size under the assumption that I don’t speak Khmer (and even if they knew that I do), I have received seemingly unending attention garnered by being physically different from those in the majority. Such attention has forced me to be constantly aware of the perceptions and reality of my body. While my exterior front of happiness is maintained, having constant negative – and even neutral – attention drawn to my personal insecurities can be entirely draining on me emotionally and psychologically. Being larger is difficult even in America, so my weight and frame have always been two of my biggest insecurities, but in Cambodia those internal frustrations are dragged into open scrutiny. I am forced almost daily to face what people think of me because of how I look and, in turn, how I think of me because of it. During training, while still struggling to adjust to the food, language, and, well, everything involved in such a transition, my host family thought it would be fun to put me on the rice scale. I had to choke back tears as they went to tell our neighbors the big number which had apparently been a huge point of curiosity for everyone. As I started to lose weight during training, my family made my weigh-ins weekly and I found that everyone in our small village was apprised of my current weight. To have something so personal, private, and, personally, for me, a point of shame made so thoroughly public was – and still is – difficult and embarrassing for me. Since I’m more of an internalizer and because it takes a lot for me to show open frustration or anger, I was able to take to my rice scale meetings with joy (at least outwardly). I put on a smile and jumped up enthusiastically for my weighing. I never let my family see me cry nor let them know how much it bothered me. Honestly, though, I wish I had. Learning Khmer is a PCVs greatest weapon and defense. At that point in training, though, I simply didn’t have the ability to discuss why something like that would bother me or how I would rather they handle themselves with me.
Share one positive experience in Cambodia related to your specific social identity.
I guess that’s my transition into how my social identity has resulted into positive experiences in Cambodia, how having a decent handle on the language has allowed me to take control of what I had formerly been a passive recipient of. Even a year into my time in my community, I still get comments about my size. With passing strangers, I tend either to ignore them or agree with sarcastic enthusiasm (Why, yes, good sir! I DO weigh 200 kilos!). With people who live or work in my community, however, I try to take those comments as opportunities to introduce aspects of American diversity. We talk about how in America I’m used to seeing people of all different body types and styles. We talk about what forms our perception of beauty and about different ways of discussing it and the meaning behind the words. Some of my favorite cross-cultural conversations have arisen from people calling me fat. An example: For the second time I came home from a market shopping excursion with a pair of underwear that simply would not fit my luscious posterior. As before, I gave the offending pair to my host sister. She laughed and told me that I should just realize that my butt was too big for Cambodia. I sang a few lines of “I like big butts” and told her that some men in America thought butts like mine were very beautiful so I wouldn’t have a problem finding a husband. She thought the song was horrendous. I chuckled and countered that I had seen the padded underwear that ladies wore to parties. So, obviously, Khmer people must like big butts, too. She told me, Sure, we can want big butts, but we would NEVER talk about it. Can you imagine going up to your Khmer teacher and telling him that he has a big butt?? I said, No, absolutely not. I would never do that because his butt is miniscule. That man is tiny! At this point our cultural exchange dissolved into inappropriate giggles because she told me to ask him what else is tiny. Point being I’ve really come to enjoy some of the banter and discussions that can come from a simple comment about my weight. With some people I just joke around about it, with others we discuss diet differences between America and Cambodia, and with others we end up in much larger conversations about social differences and I get to show off my tattoo and cartilage piercing and joke that I’m a gangster. I mean, I know it sounds weird, but having to have such conversations and defend myself and think about my body and my body image on a regular basis has actually increased my personal confidence. When I first arrived here such comments deeply shamed and embarrassed me. Now… I don’t know. I guess I’m used to it? I guess faking confidence about how I look among people has kind of proved that old adage about ‘fake it till you make it’ true. I’m fat?? So what? You’re unhealthily skinny!
Share one way you have been an ally for one or more fellow PCVs in regards to diversity issues.
Everyone has different coping methods and is affected by comments directed at their personal diversity in different ways. The way we reach out to be an ally for a fellow PCV, though, is usually an extension of how we cope personally. For me, I cope by laughing at the sheer absurdity of some of the comments and situations and by realizing that the culture is different and that they words they say here may not come with the same intent as those same words spoken by a Westerner. I also find catharsis in talking with other volunteers or with my support system from home or through writing in my journal or blog. So when I reach out to my fellow volunteers, I tend to offer a forum for them to discuss what happened and how they’re feeling in whatever way and to whatever extent they feel comfortable. If that person chooses to take some sort of action as a result of the incident, I’m there with guns blazing (figuratively, of course – that’s banned in the Handbook). I do have the immense pleasure of living in Svay Rieng Province, which includes the amazing Latoya here; geographically, we’re all pretty close to each other, and we make an effort to all get together every month or so at the very least. Because we can see each other regularly, we’ve formed a fair support network among each other and are able to ally together in any way necessary. And Lonely Planet said Svay Rieng isn’t worth a visit… Psh!
(posted July 22, 2012)
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