23 (or defying the gender role.)

Back to the pencil skirt and white button up, waspy necklaces and ecuadorian nene bracelets. Maribel washed my Vans over the weekend and they don't look as bad as I thought they would (I can live with the rips and still look presentable). It's amazing what I've put these shoes through in just a couple months.

As progressive as this country is environmentally, it is still traditional in acting out gender roles. and in many ways it's refreshing for me; women are still empowered and respected within society, and I'm adapting (not changing) myself to function within my gender role. It's not domesticating, it's just different, and in some ways I feel MORE empowered as a woman here than I do in the States.

I am a white woman from the west with privilege and power. I am separated into a category as a guest, a tourist, even though I am here long term. I'm prone to a lot more criticism and speculation, not because I'm doing anything wrong, but because my identity, physically and mentally, prevents me from abiding or adhering to every rule within my social role as a young female in Costa Rica. I fall between the lines. No one knows quite what to do with me or where to place me in this society.

Since Thursday, I've spent most of my extracurricular time with Amy, Diego, and Alejandro. It's impossible to not see Alejandro every single day. I pass his house at least twice a day, and I pass his tienda at least twice a day. But more than that, I like spending time with him, even if I'm sitting on the couch doing work while he's outside washing his car. But I'm a great person to speculate, what's that gringa doing that Colombiano's apartment? Assumptions and speculation, reputations, who's rules am I breaking? Amy proves to be a close ally, but she leaves in two weeks. While I adapt, Alejandro adapts, as in, seeing me as an emotional channel rather than a physical (which, believe me, caused quite a tension for the first few days of our acquaintance). He has a lot of history, filled with violence and pain and problems and has close to nothing in this country (he has God), but he doesn't seek me out for sympathy. We don't interact within our stereotypical roles: the immigrant necklace maker and then gringa tourist, both looking for a shot at exotic love. or sympathy. I can't help him, really, in a material capacity. I acknowledge my privilege and ethically I will not bow down to try and stabilize his life in this country. And he doesn't expect me to do that. But he now expects me to be there and I do have patience. I went to the tienda yesterday on my home from the institute and he was in an awful mood (who wouldn't be if they worked 13 hours a day, everyday, dealing with tourists who most times don't even speak Spanish, or at least attempt to be humble in communication?). Two young female German tourists came into the shop and I immediately felt him sieze up with impatience. I told him I was there if he needed me. They were quite nice, actually, but he was quick to judge and shut himself off and didn't make much of an effort to get their sales. So I stepped in, served as his buffer, translating, and made the deal. He wouldn't have made those two sales without me, and I think he knows that, just because I was patient and calm and didn't criticize or condemn him. Is that what a woman is supposed to do with a man? I helped him count out the drawer and walked with him to his house. We sat across from one another in his living room, drinking fresca naranja in mugs, and didn't talk.

There are moments when you have to take a risk, to do crazy things...

...but love is much like a dam: if you allow a tiny crack to form through which only a trickle of water can pass, that trickle will quickly bring down the whole structure, and soon no one will be able to control the force of the current.


Willpower. Power and privilege. Preservation and conservation. Civil war and civil intentions.


Defiance.