Sexual Politics and Gender Roles... make my head hurt.

Guys. I´m sorry, but I have to tell you about this aspect of life because it is so. fing. pervasive.

In the study abroad handbook, that Madison gave us, they forgot to put this section in. Which would have helped a great deal. All it said was something like, "The country you´re moving to may have different social rules for what men and women are expected to act like and what is viewed as proper and improper. So you should be careful when interacting with your host family and new friends." Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?! I´m about to tell you.

As always, these are all generalizations. So. yeah.

Boys. Boys here, are UNBELIEVEABLY persistent, straightforward, overly confident, and generally annoying. DO NOT. do not. give out your phone number. Unless you want them calling you ALL the time. Even when they agree that they will not call you, they still do.
Here´s an anecdote about what happened to me this weekend: My and two other girls went out with three guys. I started talking to one, who promptly, 3 minutes into the conversation, suggested that I go along with him to Chiclayo (north, on the coast I believe) to be his date for his cousin´s wedding. He would fly us there and I would meet his family and we´d have a grand old time. Later that night, we started talking about marriage. Yes. marriage, and the underlying implication... I was a great candidate for a wife! Oh. my. god.
Boys think that American girls are generally a. White b. Wealthy. c. Permiscuous and d. Attend La Católica. And why do you think boys here think that? It couldn´t have to do with Hollywood and MTV... could it? I don´t think so. hahaha.
Boys are also free to sleep with as many girls as the please. Much like the United States. Except here, it is manifested more as an obligation than an underlying social expectation.

Girls. Girls had better be monogamous and in a commited relationship if they are going to do so much as kiss a boy. And you know what we call girls who get around here? Perras. Which would translate to slut, not bitch. Girls do not kiss boys that they are not seeing. And also, you know how in the United States, there is this sort of trial period, between getting to know someone and officially dating, when you are more or less free to do as you please with no strings attached (or so we say)? That trial period is a genuinely foreign concept here, non-existent. It´s all or nothing. Obviously there are girls that don´t adhere to these standards, but not once in my time here have I found a Peruvian who is alright and accepting of a lifestyle like that. It´s always like, "Oh.... yeah... no, that´s not ok here..."

In other news, abortion laws here are ridiculous. Now, I know this is a touchy subject, but I think we all realize that there will be women killing their unborn children whether it is legal or not which is why I am so grateful, that women can go about it in a safe, healthy, clean, not sketchy way. Last week I found out that:

"Abortion in Peru is currently illegal except in case of the threat to the life or health of the woman. ^[1] A woman that consents to an abortion can be sentenced to up to 2 years in prison. A person that performs an illegal abortion can be sentenced to 1 to 6 years in prison.^[2]

Abortion has been generally illegal in Peru since 1924" (wikipedia... hahaha)

Mariah told me that, in her human sexuality class, her professor was telling stories: this woman was raped and she had to have the baby. There was also another woman who was going to have a baby with no brain and they made her have it. They are strict as hell here. I was a little distressed when I found all this out. And later that day I went to my history class and started talking to a girl about all this stuff. When I asked if she knew anyone who had gotten an abortion, she said, yeah.... her friend was seeing someone and got pregnant and found someone to do the procedure, and it all ended up fine. But it was hard to find someone to do it safely, since everything is under the table and informal and unregulated. Which means, even underage catholic girls have abortions too.

Thankfully, today as I was walking around campus, there where people dressed up as clowns (no joke) handing out pro-life propaganda. Like they need anymore support! They are on a catholic campus with the support of their conservative government that valorizes the non-separation of church and state, in a country with some of the most restrictive abortion laws in South America. Pro-Life, Peruvian Payasos. sweet.

Now, I´m just going to say... if guys are trying to have sex with as many girls as possible. And girls are supposed to do just the opposite. And if guys do not know how to take no for an answer, and girls have almost no public or social network for taking care of their sexual health (when it pertains to non-committed relationships at least), what happens when girls feel pressured, or just want, to sleep with these so god-damned persistent, machisto Peruvians? and what happens when they get pregnant? Well, they get to a) Have an under the table abortion b) Have the baby and be ostracized by the society that perpetuates such a ridiculous set of social rules or c) Marry the dad and, inevitably, live happily ever after. From my own personal experience and observations, choice c usually seems to work out the best.... ha.ha.

Nuestra Señora, Protectora de las Fuerzas Armadas

Ok.

1. If you want to post a comment, you have to sign in with your gmail account and then you can post all you want... can you believe those google douchebags... making you get a gmail account?! In fact, I think there is a good chance that they have the rights to everything I've typed here.

2. I´m just fine. Don't worry about the hazing inncident. It sucked for sure, but obviously I'm still here, and have probably been in more compromising situations.

3. Today there was a battle of the bands here. I was in high school again. There were the dready kids, the alternative kids, the kids smokin ciggz, the normal ones, the ones with little self confidence, and the rest. I didn´t stay to watch, because, surprise, I´ve had enough American music to last me 20 whole years of my life. Thankfully, there was a little Michael Jackson before the live performances commenced.

3. Then, after a great deal of indecision and flakiness on the part of all my group members for my ethnography project, I headed over to the center of Lima to watch the festivities for La Virgen de las Mercedes (which is what we´re studying for the project). We were all going to go, but then it just so happened, that I, the lone non-spanish speaker, was the only one to go. One person showed up later. But it was irrelevant. And also, the festivities weren't really a big deal. It was a type of parade that started in this church about 4 blocks away from the Plaza de Armas. And the parade was this giant statue/figure (like 15 feet tall maybe) surrounded by a whole bunch of members of the armed forces, some of the officials from the Catholic church, and then the normal Catholic celebrants, walking down the street, showing homage to the virgen, mercy-giver and redemptress of captives. But really, she is just the patron saint of the armed forces. So essentially I went to a parade celebrating the ties between the catholic church and Peru´s armed forces. Cool. I´m always down for celebrating two oppresive institutions both at the same time. score.

Collective Humiliation.

So last night I thought it would be a good idea to go and take part in the initiation of the students who are just beginning their anthropology majors (here, you have to take two years of courses in letras generales to get you ready, before you start taking classes in your major).

It was ridiculous, in a very very very unpleasant way. It was like the kind of stuff that was in the media several years ago about hazing in fraternities and sororities. I swear to god. To make a long story relatively short, they blindfolded us, tied our hands behind our backs, and for like, two hours, dumped all of this shit on us- eggs and food and paint and fish and sand and dirt- and it was night time and it was cold and then they dumped buckets of water on us and then made us do all this other ridiculous stuff. ughsgcjshcj;wva/o;j;vf. We smelled absolutely disgusting and were freezing the entire time. (Thankfully, there was a little Michael Jackson being played) Oliamos a mierda, de verdad. And then, they took us, all of us, in a bus, like the ones I take to school, to this other house, like 15 or 20 minutes away and then did some more stuff and then it was all over and we drank beers and listened to music and everyone, all of the anthro students, were nice to us and gave us hugs and conversation and cigarettes. But seriously, this was like the worst thing that has happened to me in quite a while. Oh. man. I would say it's worse than riding my bike around in a snow storm for 10 hours. Not even kidding.
The thing is, I guess it was worth it. But you know... I don't really know about the people from La Catolica. Whatever.

Something really weird is that all I could think about like the whole time was el Sendero Luminoso (The marxist guerrillas that terrorized the people in the mountains and jungle during the 80s and 90s) y los Senderistas (the people that belong to the group). I mean, it's not like these people really hurt us physically, but when you are cold and wet and absolutely a mess and smell horrible and are being screamed at and demeaned, you feel pretty bad, right? I mean, the people doing this were having fun (which I thought was crazy since I don't really like humiliating other people at all) and were laughing and just being relentlessly cruel.
And there I was, sitting hands tied behind my back, blindfold on, lying on the cold, dirty, disgusting cement thinking... "I can't believe this happened(-s)/is happening to people in real life. Like, real torture and humiliation. That is f-ed up as hell. That is crazy. This is crazy. This is horrible. They are horrible." And all of that brought out some of the most hateful, bitter, unforgiving feelings and desires that I have ever felt in my life. I don't think I've ever really wanted to physically inflict pain on someone until last night. I wanted to insult them and hurt them, the people doing all of this nonsense, so badly.

I mean, I'm sure all of you can think of a time when you have been humiliated and how horrible you felt and it sucks really really bad. Being humiliated is my all time least favorite feeling. I hate it. I just can't believe the profound sense of pain and hurt and sadness and anger and hopelessness and every bad feeling in the world that results when people turn into heartless perpetrators of some of the most violent, pointless, disgusting crimes ever against innocent people. I just... uhhhhh..... I don't know. I don't get it. But I do but I don't. Everything is so crazy and hopeless, it seems.

Anyways, that's enough of that.

Everybody here wants to be American. all I can think about sometimes is that Violent Femmes song "American Music" whenever I'm with all these Peruvians who sing American songs and wear shirts with American bands on them and do drugs like Americans do and go to shitty fast food restaurants and smoke Marb Reds and blah blah blah. Jeeeeeeeeeez.

One more thing. I went to the initiation thing with these girls from Cuzco. They are on an exchange program here too. They are great. On the bus ride to this place, before everything started, they told me at the exact same time, "It's different in Cuzco." And by that, they are implying un monton de cosas. a bunch of things. I think people in Cuzco are more chill, welcoming, don't feel so self-important, and other things. I can't wait to go to Cuzco. I really can't. I feel like maybe, it's Peru's equivalent of California... the promised land... ahahah.... for us radical, leftist, amoral liberals.

And finally, if being a "crazy liberal radical" means being concerned about the pain that people who aren't Americans are subjected to- oftentimes, as a result of America's politics- then, por favor, sign me up.

So... this is why we have it made.

Ok. There are some really really interesting things about this society that I think are very important to take into consideration when thinking about why wealth is more than just the dollar amount that shows up on your electronic bank statement.

1. People live here with their families until they get married, generally, or establish a legitimate, career after graduating from college. You live with your parents until your late 20s most of the time. Late 20s...! Because, it is SO incredibly difficult to survive on your own.

2. Today, one of my classmates told me that the lowest hourly wage you can get paid is 4 soles an hour. That is less than $1.50. However, he for example, makes 10 soles per hour which is about $3.50.

3. People tend to ask me how I got the money to get myself here, to Peru. And I told them, I saved up a lot of my money from the scholarships I got and then I continued to work so that I could save up more money and go to school. And they told me, "Here, that would never happen. The scholarships don't exist and wages are so inadequate and maintaining a job (that will pay for your necesities) and school at the same time is pretty much impossible." And what's more, if they wanted to come to the U.S. the exchange for them sucks! 3 to 1. And our immigration system... well, as Sam once told me, immigration is a complicated issue. Actually getting the visa and paying for all that nonsense... Oh man. It seems impossible, even from my perspective.

4. Getting into college. Is a whole different story.

Anyways, I've realized that living all by myself (in the United States), essentially, is rather difficult, as most all of you know. And also, it can be kind of sad and overwhelming in it's own way, but at least I have that choice of independence if I want it.
Here, that choice doesn't exist most of the time. Even if you wanted to work your ass off to live independently, the odds against you are stacked so high, that it is really an insurmountable task.
There's a good chance you have: a job, a bank account, a currency with an exchange rate in your favor, some way to get the health care you need if worse comes to worse, a high school education, access to at least a technical college, a good comand of the English language, internet access, citizenship in a country whose foreign policy decisions dictate what happens in the rest of the world, and the possibility of living alone.

Todo demora (everything takes a long time), Prudencia (Prudence) y Michael Jackson

The day Michael Jackson died, I knew something big was happening, and I knew it was going to be a lot of fun. After his death and in the United States, I myself at concerts with bands playing his songs live and everybody absolutely LOVING it. I found myself watching a Michael Jackson documentary with my very Lutheran mom and my Jewish friend Sam. I found myself conversing, live on the radio, with sixth-graders about who he was, what kind of music he made, and what, eactly, was the real cause of his death.
However, what I didn't realize was that Michael Jackson's death was going to be an international phenomenon that had the potential of uniting people from different continents all over the world. The last two weekends that I've gone out, I always manage to hear at least two Michael Jackson songs, and it's fabulous, because 1. All the Americans love Michael Jackson and don't need to know how to dance to dance to his music 2. All the Peruvians love it becuase it's American and in English and it's awesome and 3. Michael Jackson is great.
La moraleja de la historia es that frome here on out, Michael Jackson' birthday is going to be an internationally celebrated holiday (according to the calendar in my planner) until the day I die. In fact, if I'm lucky, the date of my death will coincide with his, so that all of my friends and family can have the biggest, most awesome funeral celebration ever. Also, everyone here is familiar with Thriller.

On a different note, we went to Polvos Azules yesterday, which is the big market-esque place where they sell things like: name brand shoes (LOTS of name brand shoes... as in aisles and aisles and aisles of Nike, Reebok, Converse, and Adidas shoes... all for prices that really, are either equivalent to or more expensive than what we find in the U.S), clothing, pirated music and DVDs, video games, clothes, accessories, posters of weird things, and other stuff. Although I was planning on buying some cheap shoes for basketball (which I didn't find), I (of course) ended up buying 5 cds instead (which cost me the equivalent of $5, more or less. I got some reggaeton, Aventura (a group whose singer makes me, and almost all other Peruvian girls melt into a puddle), and Peruvian Rock. And the Peruvia rock is what I want to comment on most.
Many of you know that I love music, and new music, and "good" music very very very much. And I realized that here, I haven't been listening to anything because almost my entire iTunes collection is English. So, I was determined to do something, and start listening to all of the Peruvian Rock I possibly could. I even checked out a book from the library all about it with history, band profiles, lyrics, and everything! I was well on my way.... thennnnnn, I started listening to some songs on youtube (here, pronounced something like, "yooo toooof") and I realized, "wait a second, these songs kind of suck." And I kept listening and I said to myself, "What am I listening to? This is like stuff from the 80s and the unfortunate alternative rock from the 90s that makes me really stupid when I listen to it." BUT, I still really appreciate it because the peruvian rock from the 80s really expresses a profound sense of disillusion that people here felt, in light of the corrupt politics, the violence, the depression, and other very hopeless circumstances facing Peruvians at the time. The only thing is that, here, like in the United States, the Peruvian rock seems to represent a rather white, bourgeois perspective attempting to affect change in an essentially futile way. Ok ok ok. That's just what I think.
There is this band called "We all together" (and it's not a translation) that is from the 60s and they are like the Beatles, but in Spanish. I swear. They even have a song called "Hey Revolution" (which is also not a translation). And I also believe they took part in a similar array of drugs. And finally, I was talking to this hip hop artist yesterday who told me, when I asked him if he liked Reggaeton, that "No, it doesn't have any content"... as in there's no substance to the lyrics. And I responded, "But what about the rhythm, that's why I love reggaeton." And he agreed and was like, "yes, of course" but proceeded to say how hip hop is a movement that expresses something, ideas that are meaningful and substantive and impotant for society to hear and share and consider. And with that, I absolutely agree.

Anyways, last night, I went to Miraflores and Barranco. In Miraflores, we went to the opening of this exhibit in an art galery of two very famous grafitti artists. I thought their art was really good and interesting and awesome. But what was equally as interesting was that all of the artsy, counter culture, hipster-esque, white Peruvians emerged from the cracks in the walls to congregate in one place and partake in this sophisticated yet definitively "underclass" expression of art. In all of my time here, I haven't experienced something so familiar... that's really not true... but I felt like I was in Madison, standing outside of Espresso Royale, talking with fashionable people, smoking cigarrettes, flaunting their cultural capital, and access to social/economic resources. It was great.
(Also, on the bus ride to Miraflores, I decided that I'm really going to get a tatoo. Of course, of what I don't know, but I'm going to. And when I find something meaning(ful/less) enough to get imprinted on me for eternity, I will let you all know how it turns out.
And this brings me to the point about how everything here takes so long. It is like a fact of nature here. I met up with Mariah, and one of our other friends, and one of Mariah's good friends from Milwaukee, who was with some of her Peruvian friends. My plans included, 1. Go to the opening of this exhibit 2. Leave for Barranco 3. Find a place to drink and dance.
First of all, I left from my house (in San Borja) an hour later than I planned. Then, from Mariah's it took us another hour to meet up with here friend from Milwaukee. Then after we were done with all of that counter-culture nonsense at the galery, it took us another hour (after walking up and down sidewalks in a two block radius and asking strangers to take pictures of us) to finally decide to get in a taxi and go to any place in Barranco. But thankfully, three hours after my journey began, I found myself at Trapiche, this bar that serves drinks from la Selva (rainforest/jungle), sharing some very strong pitchers of 1. Supersexy (pronounced sooopairsaykseee) and 2. Cae Solita.
(On a side note, I really like drinking here as a opposed to in Madison for a few very important reasons. First of all, in Madison, you essentially have 3 to 5 hours to get drunk, socialize, approach someone at a bar, make conversation, and go home with them, sober enough to maintain at least part of your self image and dignity- because you start between 10 and 11 and finish at 2 (bar time). Whereas here, you can start early at 10-11 and typically stay out till 4 (bar time). It is a solid 6 hours- a two hour bonus! Second, given the short amount of time to go out and white people's lack of dancing skills, the main objective is to get really drunk and maybe have some type of interesting coversation. Here, I find myself, very very very easily exercising a lot more self restraint in my drinking with very little difficulty. And finally, all of this paced intoxication and dancing allows be to worry a lot less about needing someon to take care of me when I drink)

Well, I actually need to eat breakfast right now, since I've been sitting here typing for far too long, so I'll have to finish all of my cultural comparisons later...

Pobreza y politica

I just got done listening to the last 1/4 of this conference about something having to do with, I don't know, (potential) capabilities of impoverished people and the effects that religion has on (dis)empowering them. Since I only caught a very small part of it, the substance itself wasn't that meaningful. However, what was really weird feeling was that I was sitting in this small auditorium filled with intelectuals from all over the world, who (as a general rule) had a pretty good grasp of the English language- to the extent that everyone articulated complex and educated arguments, comments, and opinions and all were able to share and disagree and comment in a very respectful, captivating way. There were all these people, adults, academics, professionals, taking notes, some on paper, and others on macs, half the people dressed business casual, the other half in everyday clothes... It made me think about the vast and profound gap that exists between the reality of the some, let´s say educated people with access to money, international and instantaneous communication, savings accounts, and a global perspective and the reality of others, for example, people living in a poor neighborhood in a big city with very limited access to the undertsanding of complicated ideas that will shape the world that they are subject to...

Anyways, I also went to this human rights organizations fair where there were a bunch of different groups and NGOs and things along those lines distributing information and pamphlets and such. I got this one Pamphlet, that is roughly translated, entitled as "Lessons so that history doesn´t repeat itself"

Inside it says:

"What happened between 1980 and 2000?
During these years, we peruvians lived during a period of the strongest, most intense, and most extensive violence of all of our history: almost 70,000 deaths, the majority being indigenous poor from the countryside. This figure reflects the horror experienced during the armed internal conflict"

This is, more or less, old news to me, but nonetheless, it is still rather unbelievable how recently such devasting violence impacted the country, and how, for about a decade, people acted like nothing happened.

Ok, well, I´ll have something more interesting and happy to talk about sooon...

Lost at C and no-expectations expectations

So. Here are some updates.

- I went to basketball practice tonight....! And, you may be wondering what kind of A-team La Catolica is repping. Rest assured, I think they are on par (maybe a little better) than my freshman high school team, so I'll fit right in. I'm pretty excited, since I spent a good part of last summer pestering people to play with me. I even bought a basketball that I didn't manage to use once. Mostly though, I'm excited to make friends with girls! That seems to be difficult here.
-I found a Capoeira group here. I am very very very excited about that. The mestre (the head of the group) and one of his long-time students are both Brazilian, from Bahia, and speak Portuguese. Which is fabulous. Since I want to speak Portuguese too. (Today, on the way to school, I was sitting in the very back of the combi and this old man, who is an electrician, started to talk to me. Eventually I found out that 1. He wasn't ill-intentioned and 2. His mom was from Portugal.... whence, we proceeded to talk half Portuguese half Spanish the rest of the ride to his destination).
-I got my first quiz back today! It was horrible. I got a C. I don't think I've gotten a C on anything since grade school.... I came in planning on taking it easy peasy and here I am, adrift, lost at sea, confused about a solid 50% of what's going on in my classes. But, thankfully, I have all weekend to get my act together as best as I can and start using the planner I recently bought.
-This last weekend I went to the center of Lima where you can buy anything. absolutely anything you want...
I bought: A Michael Jackson poster (for $0.35), some shoes, push pins, and other things.
That place is crazy. It's packed! It's like... street after street after street of stores inside and outside, upstairs and downstairs, and everywhere!

In general, things are going fine, but despite my initial efforts to have no expectations about anything, which succeeded tremendously, this is getting harder and harder to adhere to. I find myself getting my hopes up about certain, mostly inconsequential things only to realize that assumptions an anticipation and plans are all so precarious here. Despite that, however, even my smallest successes make me feel like maybe I'm starting to understand the rhythm, or rather, the jerky stop-and-go, grinding pace of life in Lima.