Child Birth in an Unequal Society

I recently saw statistics showing the leading countries in gender equality. Surprisingly enough, Nicaragua appeared 6th on the list behind Iceland, Scandinavian countries, and Denmark. The U.S. came in as the 20th country on the list. Seeing this list I began to question gender equality in this country and in my own as well.

Here is the link to the Global Gender Gap realeased by the World Economic Forum:
http://mic.com/articles/102560/how-well-does-your-country-treat-women-check-this-interactive-map

What is clear to me about Nicaragua's supposed small gender equality gap is that this study looked closely at the situation in Managua. It cannot be denied that the Sandinista party has done well in appointing female leaders. These include important positions such as the National Police Chief along with many departmental and city chiefs, the national Minister of Education along with an entire institution led by women, and smaller positions filling the mayors' offices around the country. Women have been appointed and elected, they hold an important part in the politics of Nicaragua.

But let's talk about the gender gap in Nicaragua. How many women are actually working? This number drops significantly after a woman has children. How are women treated on a daily basis both in the workplace and in the home? Even a working woman is expected to complete all of the household chores outside of her work hours while the man simply needs to work his shift and return home at the hour that he pleases. Young girls are heard saying that they simply want to be mothers, and that does not mean in the future but that they are searching for a man when they are as young as 12 or 13 years hold. Women are expected to give a man a family, but the responsibilities will be solely theirs, with the exception of discipline in many cases. With many more logistical opportunities for men to continue their education (because young boys are not expected to help with housework or watching their siblings), this country does not deserve 6th place on that map.

I recently had the opportunity to visit an aunt in my host family who gave birth. My host mom (her sister-in-law) took her to the hospital and took care of her overnight. A group of family members (made up of mostly women except the driver) visited her that night in the hospital. We entered two by two into a room full of women, those who recently gave birth and those who were caring for the newborns and recent mothers. There was not a man in site. The baby was beautiful, perfectly calm and to my surprise, nameless! The dad was working outside of town and so she needed to wait to consult with him. I know very little about the birthing process in the U.S., but I do know that my own mother was angry with my father on the day of my birth for taking the bus and not having his car. I can't even imagine the father being absent at the birth of his own son or daughter. There were so many questions I had about this process both in the U.S. and in Nicaragua.

And so I have been informally interviewing people all week. As far as I know, three days have passed and the baby still does not have a name. Now I understand all of the confusions on birth certificates and formal documents of children in Nicaragua. Many children don't even know how to write their name correctly as it was put on their birth certificate. But many women have told me that that's just how it is in Nicaragua. Babies receive a name a few days after their birth perhaps because of lack of communication between the couple. (My thoughts are that I can't believe that 9 months aren't enough to resolve that, but who knows...) Women have also told me that although men were previously banned from the birthing room, they are now allowed in should they so choose. The woman may choose one person to accompany her in the birthing process, but men are still largely absent. It is a woman's process, I have been told. It is a tradition, whether the mother goes to the hospital or has her babies in her house, that she is surrounded by only female family members.

This to me feels like an ancient tradition. I feel enraged for these women that these men are so detached from their babies. As with many difficult subjects that I face in Nicaragua, I chose to discuss what I know as customary in the U.S. as well as what I will/would do in that situation. I have exclamed to almost any woman who will listen that whenever in the far off future I do have children, my partner will be right there by my bedside watching his baby be born. Having a child is not and never has been a process of one person. Why should any part of that process be left only to the woman?

The worst part of these situations that test my beliefs are hearing "that's just the way it is." I often get an affirmation that the way we do things in the U.S. would be nice, but that's not how it is in Nicaragua. Their reality is much different from mine and making them see that change is possible may be the biggest challenge I or anyone else will ever face.

The U.S. has a long way to go in closing the gender gap. I know there are too many cases of men detached from their children in our own country as well. Many women in the U.S. at least know that life does not have to be so unequal. Sometimes we view these statistics as fact without considering how people behind these numbers based on economics live. It is moments like these that make me thankful for the country that I come from and extremely distraught to know that many women will never know what even those possibilities of equality look like.

The "Other"

I’m nearly approaching my one year anniversary in site. Looking backwards the time has flown, and yet these past few months have been difficult for the entire group. What do we have to show after one year? What have we accomplished? What are we doing here? Are we really making a difference? Am I really integrated into my community? 

I have a great host family, a wonderful community of teachers, staff, and students who support me. Frequently people tell me that I have converted into a full Nica, I am no longer a gringa. But there is a harsh reality in the fact that I will always be different on some level, I will always be the “other.”

My neighborhood is my safe haven. People rarely stare me down anymore (unless they’re men making stupid comments or catcalls but even those include my name or “Profe”), I feel comfortable and greet people on the street because they all know that I am a teacher at the school. This has become my piece of Nicaragua where I fit. This town in general is my home, but outside of my neighborhood is less inviting as I do still get stares and recognize less faces. However, in general I feel that people know my role here and have become comfortable with seeing me around.

Then I enter into the rest of Nicaragua where I am simply seen as a dumb tourist with a lot of money. People stare me down expecting my Spanish to be poor and asking me for money in dollars. I am just like any other, despite the amount of work I have put into the schools here, despite my efforts to be culturally appropriate, despite how many customs and beliefs I have left behind in order to convert myself into a Nica. I feel like a Nica, but I will never be one. Even among my host family it is hard to deal with economic conversations. I may be another family member, but to them I’m that rich niece/sister/aunt who has had many opportunities in her life. This is true of my background, but when you’re paid a Nicaraguan salary it is difficult to live up to those expectations.

It often feels like a slap in the face. No matter how hard I try, I will never blend in. The consequences of that here are people looking at me like I carry around loads of money. Questions are never ending about where I come from and if I can speak in English, if my parents send me money and how perfect the U.S. must be. There are days when I think, I would just love to make a friend who didn’t make me feel like a new toy or an alien they never thought existed. I would like a genuine friend just because we like each other’s company.

And here’s where the complaining stops. It’s hard to be different. It’s hard to not be able to escape that fact. It’s hard to be the odd one out, the one that no one understands and has to answer 12,000 questions around every corner. But then I think, boo hoo to the white girl. I get this attention because of the privileged background that I carry. I get this attention because of my fair skin seen as beautiful; because of my birthplace and the opportunities that has given me in life. I am judged as the ideal person to be robbed because of the possessions I supposedly carry with me. For the first time in my life I am different in a town that I call home.

This is my first lived experience where I am beginning to understand what it means to be judged by the color of your skin. Of course I am judged in a completely different manner than my friends who are discriminated against in the U.S., but I now have a basic understanding of what that means. I am now annoyed by questions about my culture constantly being thrown at me, as I have heard from my friends back home. I never completely understood why some of my friends became so frustrated when people asked them if they grew up speaking another language or what kinds of foods their mom cooks. But it is because upon meeting someone we all just desperately want to be seen as humans, as equals. Those questions point out the differences instead of forming friendships through similarities. They make one feel like the “other.”

I am also very tired of being watched constantly. I am aware that I stand out, that people either think my skin is beautiful, are simply curious, or are wondering where I keep my money. But how does it feel to be watched because someone is afraid you may steal something from the store? How does it feel to be stared at because you’re a person of color dating a white person? How does it feel to grow up in an environment where you always stand out, a community that is 97% white for example? How does it feel to be a part of a college community that allows hate crimes to happen without much (if any) ramifications or acknowledgement of victims’ struggles?

We see the world in color. I have little hope that these issues will ever fully disappear. But it is good not only to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, but to have your own experience that helps you understand other’s perspectives. I certainly don’t have all of the answers, but I keep learning and I believe that is all that we can hope for. I believe that this will be the closest I will ever get to feeling the pain of my friends who have lived through racial discrimination in both big and small contexts. I will never be able to crawl out of this white skin or change my nationality, but I will keep learning and reflecting in order to live differently, in order to be a better person, friend, and teacher.