Machismo

Gender Roles in a Machismo Society

Many Latin American countries are characterized by the strong machismo sentimentalities of their societies. Though Costa Rica ranks higher than most other Latin American countries, it has not escaped completely from its history with machismo. Despite sweeping political reforms to include women in policy making and in the branches of the government, certain strict gender roles still linger in the Tico mentality. 

Walking down the street alone, as a woman, solicits all manner of catcalls and come-ons. Leering and blatant flirting are as prevalent in the rural areas as they are in the cities. Most Ticas have learned to ignore the harassment, but some foreigners tend to struggle with the insistent behavior. Unlike in the United States where a law suit can be filed in response to harassment, local women tend to accept the hisses and whistles with little complaint.

Compared to many of the Ticas, I am fiercely feminist. The whistles and gestures cause me to grind my teeth as I shuffle down the main road back home. When I complained to my host mother, Xinia, she shook her head and explained that it was they way the world worked and there was nothing to be done about it. Xinia is wife to Orlando Gomez and the mother of three daughters. Like many of the women living in rural Sarapiquí, she is a dedicated house wife and is very accepting of her position in the house. Either she or one of her daughters prepares dinner every night and cleans up afterwards. Orlando neither fills his plate nor takes it to the sink. There is no begrudgement in the household about his lack of involvement.

The origins of the machismo attitude are as varied and complex as human history itself and thus, Costa Rica’s efforts to counteract the sentiments have been just as varied. The internet is awash with travel advice for women, Citing a stiff upper lip as the best way to deal with harassment and common sense the best way to avoid dangerous situations, but beyond the atmosphere for tourists, the government of Costa Rica has taken large steps in combating its historically machista society. In 1984 the government ratified the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women

 to help eliminate sexist stereotypes and practices which perpetuated gender inequality within the school system. In 1990 the Act for promoting the Equality of Women legally bound the central government and educational institutions to giving both males and females equal access to the same type and quality of education.

Beyond the educational system, lawmakers in Costa Rica have guaranteed that women will have a place in the government. Currently, 39% of the legislative assembly is women, a number which easily trumps the 18% of women currently serving in the United States Congress. Quota laws fist implemented in the late 1990s have evolved beyond simple legislation into an launching block for female politicians. A 1999 law ruled that women should have a minimum of 40% of electable seats in the legislative assembly. A new law, to be inaugurated in the next election year of 2014, will require women to hold at least 50% of the seats.

With a female president and 39% of the legislative body being women, it might be hard to reconcile the machista attitude of Costa Rica, but a history of rural life and Catholicism combined with Spanish colonialism possibly prepped the Ticos for such behavior. However one chooses to view it, it can easily be said the the government is striving to provide equality to its citizens. But despite how hard the government might try, it cannot change the minds of its people. In order for equality to reign, the people must come to the idea on their own.

Be Here.

I know it's been a while since I've updated and I apologize for that. I'm sure can all sympathize with how crazy life gets sometimes.

So we've all been here for over a month, and I think everyone has finally settled down. Everyone's personalities are starting to show, and we have a cluster of strange and wonderful people here. I'm sure we're going to (and probably already have) get on each other's nerves, but in the long-run I think we got lucky. For ten strangers who thought a semester in Costa Rica would be a great experience- we seem to be working very well together. Things could have gone very wrong very quickly, but I think that it takes a certain kind of personality, or at least some tick- to leave home for a semester and go somewhere entirely new. Because this country is very different from home- and without that tick, I don't think any of us would make it.

After a month away, there are a few things I've come to miss. I miss a few things very profoundly, and I miss a lot of stupid things.

I'd have to put familiarity at the top of the list of things that I miss. There's something very comfortable about knowing a place or a person. Here, the people, the place, the food- it's all new. I am not afraid of the newness, but it is exhausting. You don't have to work with things that you know. You don't have to figure them out, to learn them, adjust to them. My home is not my home, my friends here are not the friends that I have known for years. They're strangers that I've known for a month.

Do not misunderstand, I am still enjoying myself. I just ache a little (sometimes a lot) for my mom's hands, my papa's mustache on my cheek, for my roommate's morning fumblings, the clinking of my dogs's collars.

I don't miss many things. I don't miss my iPhone. I don't miss my bed. I don't miss my desk or my shower or my car. I miss my kitchen. I miss remembering things with my friends.

I miss leftovers. I miss judo. I miss English.

Among the stupid things do I miss, my kitchen, pause-able TV, and flushing toilet paper probably top the list.

These little bits of homesickness crept up on me like a sunset. Inching little by little towards the horizon- into my awareness- until suddenly the sun has disappeared- I am struck with how little I have here and how much I left at home.

The entire group now has jokes revolving around our experience. I am sure that when the time comes to leave, I will not want to go. For now, I am trying my best to roll with the punches. I am not letting my longing for home intrude upon how much I am enjoying this experience. For now, I am trying my best to be here- and love it.

This was my gift to my family for St. Valentine's day. 

My name carved into the cactus that guards our house

My beautiful green bedroom!

Not quite sure what this is, but it was pretty!

The oldest cathedral in Cartago, "Our Lady of the Angels Basilica". 

Alyssa's 21st!

My host mom and I about to go on our canopy tour.

My family minus the oldest sister, Camila.

My 21st! My face was later dunked into the cake.

Hot springs with Sam and her sister

This is where the women usually make bread in the mornings.

Something pretty in the Tallamanca Mtn Range.

Something pretty in the Tallamanca Mtn Range.

A Journey to Change

There is a phrase, and it goes a little like this:

The hardest things in life are often the most rewarding.

I am hoping that by the end of my journey in Costa Rica I will have a new appreciation for this truism. 

I have been very lucky in that I never wanted for anything necessary. Often, I don’t even want for unnecessary things. I have always had food, clean water, and a place to sleep- the necessities of life. On top of these commodities, I have also never been in need of clothing, entertainment, or affection. My mother and father are fortunate and persistent enough to have stable jobs and a comfortable combined income. They have never neglected or abused me.

I have been very lucky, but because of these things, I have never truly worked hard to earn something. Yes, I finished high school and am pursuing a college degree, but even those things have come to me relatively easy and without too much tedious work. At the best, I am a quick learner. At the worst, I am lazy and unmotivated. 

The things I have worked on the hardest in my life are my drawings, and I cannot describe to you the satisfaction of toiling for countless hours on minute details to be rewarded with a stunning piece of work. Usually, I am even too lazy to trouble myself with detailed work. Perpetually I am falling short of truly working hard; however, sometimes those terribly hard things can be taken one step at a time.

Acts of valor and perseverance need not be grand gestures of bravery or toil (not to belittle in any way these acts for they are immeasurably admirable). Sometimes the smallest actions betray a larger sense of dedication or bravado. Perhaps my views are this way in order to justify, in some manner, my laziness, but I hold them none-the-less.

Manifestations of such quality appear without much ado and don’t leave much of an impression, but they shape who we are. For example, perhaps you don’t run ten miles every day or perhaps you can’t manage to do a single pushup, but you take the stairs or  walk you dog or play outside with your kids. Maybe you haven’t rescued a baby from a burning building, but you adopted an old cat from the pound or you offered your seat to someone on the bus. These seemingly insignificant or unmemorable behaviors build one on top of another and create that same sense of reward and benefit.

This is how I feel I have been living my life. I can’t run a single lap without hyperventilating, but I walk a mile almost every day either to or from Tirimbina. Often, I walk both to and from Tirimbina. I haven’t done any acts of heroism, but I pick up the trash I see on campus, I thank ever person who has helped me in some way. When I am afraid to do something (assuming this something isn’t potentially fatal), I try to take two steps forward and do it anyway.

I didn’t speak about it, but in the last days leading up to my departure, I was terrified. I already missed my family, my friends, my bed- but I left with my chin parallel to the ground. I didn’t have any clue how this experience was going to unravel, but I am so glad that I didn’t back down. It is muggy and uncomfortable, I sometimes ache to hug someone familiar, but if given the chance to change anything I would decline. I would not trade four months of this sky and this sweaty adventure for four months of familiarity and comfort.

I struggle often with myself. Finding value in my experiences and my contributions (or lack thereof) leaves me feeling vacant and useless. I have done so little with my life so far, so I like to live my life in steps. I can’t save the world, but I can save water, electricity, paper. I can’t feed every empty stomach, but I can change the way I consume resources, pay more attention to the corporations I support, actively seek change.

Coming on this trip has been the most challenging step I’ve taken in my life. It is hard. My legs ache from walking. I have, quite literally, scratched my bug bites to the point of bleeding. I miss stupid things like movies (in English) and rewindable TV. I am reminded every day how limited my Spanish vocabulary is, how poor my grammar must sound. Every person, sight, meal- is different, strange (even the hotdogs aren’t the same), but I’m here. I’ve done it. I’m learning and growing and (hopefully) becoming a person that can change the terrible things in the world. And that- is a different kind of reward.