Saturday, January 23, 2016

If I were a boy… by Aimee Carlson

Aimee Carlson
Gakenke District
Northern Province
Everywhere in the world, no matter the culture, no matter the country, there are different expectations placed on people based on their gender. In the United States, boys are expected to be strong and emotionless; they should like manly colors like blue or green and they should dream of becoming doctors, engineers, or lawyers. Boys should want to play sports, or at least to watch them on TV with their dad; they should like to catch bugs, frogs, and snakes; they should have toy cars, trucks, and tractors.

Girls on the other hand are expected to be weak, gentle, and quiet. They are allowed to express their emotions, but that can also be held against them. Girls should want to be princesses, who like colors such as pink or purple; they should want to be mothers when they grow up, though being a teacher, hair stylist, or event planner is also acceptable. Girls should have all kinds of dolls, enjoy playing dress up, and want to play games like Pretty Pretty Princess.

Of course, these expectations are fluid and ever changing. The defined lines within which genders are supposed to fit in are a little more blurry these days. More and more women are joining the science field; sometimes, it’s the father that stays at home to care for the kids. It’s becoming more common for boys to also want a doll or to wear something that is a ‘girly’ color; girls also play in the dirt, digging for worms, or dress up like superheroes. However, there are obviously still expectations, and those who challenge gender norms, more often than not, receive some backlash.

Unsurprisingly, such expectations have followed us to our sites here in Rwanda. We have new expectations to follow though, new customs to adhere to, or if we feel comfortable doing so, to challenge. Female and male PCVs adopt different behaviors in the village because of what is acceptable according to Rwandan culture and what roles genders here are expected to fill.

We females don’t leave our houses after dark, and if we happen to be returning home after the sun has gone down, we frequently are given or request an escort. We side-eye any message we get from a Rwandan man after work hours, or hesitate to give out our digits at all. Our knees are always covered, that is if we even feel comfortable showing any part of our legs. At home, we may wear shorts while alone and doing chores, but we always have igitenge (a panel of fabric) on hand to wrap around ourselves for when a visitor inevitably stops by. Some of us put more effort into our appearance than we would in the States; we want to fit into our community and might go the extra mile to always have perfectly styled hair or have a fancier outfit than just jeans and a t-shirt.

If we are invited to go out with co-workers at the end of the work day, we check to make sure there is another female in the group, preferably also unmarried. Since it’s not culturally acceptable for a single woman to be drinking at bars, we are hesitant to drink in public at site, regardless of the fact that we are foreigners. Some of us may feel comfortable enjoying a glass of wine or a bottle of beer in the safety of our own home. However, most of us are careful when disposing the boxes or bottles, taking them to the nearest regional town, including even the bottle caps.

Male PCVs often don’t have to change their behavior quite as drastically. It is acceptable for them to walk around after dark. Many even feel comfortable going out for a beer at a bar or buying a small bottle of gin at a village boutique. They don’t have to be so cautious when a community member asks for their phone number. If they wear a pair of shorts that show off their knees, it’s not as shocking to Rwandans.

However, that’s not to say that they don’t also deal with a change in expectations. Some Rwandans are surprised to learn that male PCVs know how to cook or do their own laundry. They may even get several offers to have an umukozi (somone who cleans, cooks, and does laundry) at their house. Their clothes must be wrinkle-free and look clean. Unless they are of the Protestant Church, it is expected that men drink beer or gin, which is challenging for PCVs who choose not to drink.

As PCVs, we are guests here in Rwanda. Thus, we make changes to our behavior to fit these expectations rather than assuming our communities will alter their customs to accommodate our culture. It is something that we agreed to when we accepted our invitations to serve. Gender roles and expectations are ingrained in society to the point where we may not even notice them and having them challenged can sometimes be upsetting or offensive. Therefore, this is an area where we need to practice extra caution in order to be sensitive to our communities.


However, the second goal of Peace Corps is to share American culture with host countries as a part of cultural exchange. Because of this, and because our own gender roles are ingrained in us, we may choose certain expectations or behaviors to challenge. Some females may where pants rather than a skirt or they may feel comfortable occasionally going to a bar. Men may decline all offers for an umukozi and do their own household chores. It all depends on what is important to us as an individual and what we feel our communities would be responsive to. After all, they have welcomed us into their homes, it’s not our place to disrespect them or expect them to completely change our ways. We have to find the balance between being culturally appropriate and being true to ourselves.

Thursday, January 7, 2016

When Power Dynamics Destroy the Potential of our Boys by April Z



April Zachary
Rubengera Districit
Western Province
“Many more men and boys understand the importance of women’s equality,
and they need to be given permission to let this happen.
Additionally, information given to boys and men on how to promote
gender equality needs to be done in a positive way.
As 0pposed to giving lists of things they “should not do” or 
ways they are “bad,”
information needs to be shared in a way so as
to build up our boys and men, not tear them down.”

Peace Corps Rwanda
A Guide to Gender and Development Activities for All Volunteers


Recently I had the privilege of attending a two day GAD training which was facilitated by Ashley Mills, our Peace Corps Gender Technical Specialist.  I say “facilitated” as opposed to “taught” for a reason.  Ashley did not teach us theory, protocol or even suggested modes of approach to Gender issues within communities. Instead she  lead us, through a series of exercises, into an experiential process where we were able to see how our life experiences, preconceived ideas and cultural biases effect how we approach gender equality.  During one of these exercises I came face to face with childhood experiences that have colored my view of gender based power dynamics through most of my life. And even though I am now clearer about where my perspective comes from, I am still influenced by my experience.

I once had an older brother.  He was five years my senior. His name was Randy, not Randolph…just straight, plain Randy.  I adored him.  When I was about 3 years old, I stood in awe as I watched him climb the big tree that stood in the yard of the cluster of small cottages where we lived. I wanted to do that too and, not too many years later, I would - with his help.  When I was about 5 or 6 years old Randy taught me how to ride a bike. As I clung to the handle bars of that little two wheeler, feet pumping on pedals, he ran along side of me, supporting me, keeping me balanced until I was soaring forward, proud and exhilarated.  He was a good brother.

In the beginning it was mostly just me, my mom and my brother. Looking back now I can see how difficult it must have been for Mom to support 2 children by herself. This was in the 1950’s and early 1960’s.  She was married by age 16, had my brother by age 17, had me by age 21 and was divorced by age 25.  But even before divorce she was pretty much raising us on her own. Our father was an absentee father. Our mother carried the load, taking care of us and working long hours at the A&W drive-thru restaurant for 75 cents per hour.

When I was 8 years old and Randy was 13 our mother remarried. Our step father had a “good job” at UC Davis as a Lab Technician.  I didn’t know it at the time but we were about to receive hands-on-experiential-training in power dynamics. Unfortunately, it would take me about 50 years or more to figure out what I had learned.

Before Dad (they are still married over 50 years later so he truly is my Dad) our lives seemed pretty light-hearted.  It was a tradition to sing loudly while taking drives in the car…mostly Doris Day songs and ballads that Mom taught us.  There was lots of chatter about anything and everything.  Same at home.  When Dad came into our lives a shadow passed over us.  I realize now it was because he was young (28 years old, 4 years younger than Mom), grieving and unhappy. A few years prior his previous wife had died of cancer and his 10 month old son had died in his sleep. He could not bear our chatter or our songs.  If he was not happy, how could he allow the chatter of lively children? My mother was relieved to have the daily necessities of life taken care of.  Because the positive change he brought into our lives was financial security, food always available and a roof always over our heads.  Mom could breath.  I know she felt that we were all safe now. She elevated Dad to king of the house. His word was law.

Randy did not take this change so well.  He was 13 years old, just stretching into his independent phase and bam! Suddenly there were a whole set of new rules. No discussion, no easing into things. It seemed that overnight our lives changed.  And at that time Dad was a weekend drinker. When he drank, my mother and my brother took the brunt of his wrath. I saw my brother change from a generous, kind, spontaneous brother into a distant, angry resentful brother. He must have felt powerless.  Anger was vented upon him, his actions and words were repressed, and in turn he became angry toward me.

Randy ran away at age 16.  Eventually he joined a carnival. When he was 18 years old he died in a head-on vehicle accident. I lost him then, but really I lost him the day our mom married our dad.  Randy’s potential to be a strong, vibrant, caring, kind young man was squashed through repression of his innate beautiful self and through anger.  The power dynamics between him, our stepfather and our mother crushed him. And because he died he never had the chance to find his way back to his true self…that bright, beautiful, kind, protective, supportive boy who had the potential to have grown into a man of true strength.

How do we take away the potential from our boys to become men of true strength?  This is a mystery I am still trying to unravel. Where do we take the misstep of teaching boys, through our own behaviors, attitudes and wounds, that power is an external force that is demonstrated through brute strength, repression of voice, “being the king of the house”, being above menial work, or  through being hands-off with our children? 

How do we inspire our boys to find their true strength? The internal strength that comes from profound self-worth, self-knowledge and the desire to make the world a better place for themselves and their families?