“You are not a Republican… are you?”

It is no secret that field work attracts like-minded individuals: Kindred spirits who unite over carpe diem attitudes and their commitment to protecting the environment, indigenous people, the uninsured, and the world’s ‘less fortunate’ at large. Among the younger professionals, these traits are often associated with the left side of any political spectrum. As such, any critique of Democratic administrations’ human rights policy -be that humanitarian intervention in the 1990s or present-day food aid delivery- or any defense of Republican era human rights approaches, such as President George W. Bush’s steps towards a global AIDS policy, provokes a “You are not a Republican, are you?” response. In a field in which tolerance and open-mindedness are the cornerstone of service, there can sometimes be a surprising marginalization of other perspectives, stemming from a largely uniform system of beliefs and the judgment that consequently flows from them.

Those Greeks… are they religious?

After naming Greek ancient philosophers, a passenger asked me: “Those Greeks… are they religious?” Most Greeks are nominally part of the Christian Orthodox church. The ‘in name only’ nature of the faith for some can be touchy. Strong manifestations of belief have followed me from Egypt, where work paused momentarily for the Muslim calls to prayer, to Uganda, where God was omnipresent in namesakes: “God Loves You Grocery and Secretarial Services” was a local convenience store. In the United States, the diversity of religious belief, acknowledgment of atheism and agnosticism, and commitment to not offending or alienating participants meant religion in its denominational form did not enter conflict management workshops often. In Latin America, where many of my program beneficiaries are believers of the same faith, where fewer agnostics and atheists abound, where religion is often a given, a unifier and a source of hope, I am still learning how to engage with my participants’ welcoming of God into the discussions without, on the one hand, transforming my work sessions into a church service and, on the other hand, dismissing participants’ valued convictions.

More questions

These conversational hot potatoes require careful navigation and often make me approach my work, or a new acquaintance, gingerly. They are simultaneously thought-provoking, fascinating opportunities to reflect on the complexities of one’s own beliefs: What is my relationship to God and how can private religious beliefs productively translate into discussions in the public forum? Where do my principles fit on the political spectrum? And how do I delicately, considerately and honestly have these conversations with individuals with different points of view without avoiding the crux, offending, or misrepresenting beliefs?

For a similar treatment of the difficult questions, read Tiago Genoveze’s post on La Vida Idealist. For more of Roxanne’s reflections, visit her blog.

Houston Airport

I have been stuck for two months now, not knowing how to write this post. I am currently in the States, having come home to network and fundraise for the organization that I am working for in Nicaragua. It has been a successful and invigorating two months, but as I sit here in the airport, literally hours away from returning to my “home away from home” (aka Latin America) I am struck by a mix of contradictory emotions, including wanting to both stay and go at the very same time.

Anyone who has lived in and been touched by the Latin American culture will know exactly what I’m talking about. The pull that this part of the world has on us is inexplicable. It doesn’t leave our systems and no matter how many times we may get frustrated with the realities of living in it, there is something that always calls us back. My problem is that despite feeling like it will always be a part of me, I am not, and never will be, entirely a part of it. And despite feeling like I can appreciate the complexities of the culture (the beauty, the love and the tragedies), I will also always have the perspective (some might call it the ‘luxury’) of being a native-born Norteamericana.

For the past couple months friends have been asking me if I am having reverse culture shock. And to be honest, I wasn’t. Until, of course I walked into Whole Foods. I was overwhelmed. I wanted everything. And then I immediately felt guilty for wanting everything. And the more time I spent in there, the more crazed I felt: all the colors, the number of product choices, the piles and piles of perfect produce. This is why Americans are crazy, I thought. We have way too many choices, and we are denied nothing. These are the moments when those of us who have traveled through the developing world understand why others often resent our way of life. It is ridiculous. But on the other hand I can’t deny that I like having choices.

These dramatic differences in culture are what make my dual life both appealing and problematic at the same time. I can understand and enjoy the best of both worlds. I can also be empathetic towards people who don’t. But it is bit like I have one foot in the door and one out, never being truly settled in either place. I am having a hard time balancing my two realities while carving out my spot in the world. The U.S. is my home home, but it doesn’t quite feel like it anymore. I am en route to Nicaragua and in some ways I cannot wait to get there. But despite really loving my job, my new friends and my adoptive families, there are so many things that I will always miss from my life here, including all the options and the piles of perfect produce at Whole Foods. Friends and family, who have always been a part of my U.S. life, will never really be a part of my Nicaraguan life, and vice versa. And therefore, neither will ever genuinely understand me. At times this can feel awfully lonely.

It is difficult to know how to reconcile this double life. I would like to be able to end this post with the confidence that someday my two worlds will mesh. In fact, I don’t know that they will. But what I can say is that I do believe that the people I have met, the emotions I have felt, the lessons I have learned and the personal growth I have experienced through it all, make every minute of discomfort and confusion worth it.

Now, to be clear, I agree that there are many problems back home.  I, by no means, harbor a blind patriotism that is ignorant of the progress we still need to make domestically and abroad.  But it’s not all bad.  Spending a year as an AmeriCorps VISTA volunteer opened my eyes to the incredible energy and dedication the American people have to keeping their communities alive and vibrant.

And these same people are dedicated to being good world citizens.  I have a number of friends who have gone abroad to volunteer their time and skills to impoverished countries, genuinely trying to make an impact.  The majority of my fellow bloggers on this site are U.S. citizens, and I believe each of them is sincerely trying to make a difference in his or her country of current residence.  Aren’t these individuals great examples of the good that comes from the United States?  I would never want to bad mouth a country that has genuinely good people fanning out all over the globe trying to make the world more just.

So my question is: how do we become good ambassadors?  How do we make sure that all those fantastic people out there, doing incredible work, are proud to say they are U.S. citizens?  Because I for one want to take credit for all the good that is being done by these people, these people and these people.

Lauren Foukes is currently teaching English and helping local businesses in Ecuador.  For more about her experiences, check out her personal blog.