This week it was my turn to write the blog post for the CIEE blog. Here's what I submitted:
I won’t speak for everyone, but personally I chose
to study in Botswana in order to “immerse” myself in a new culture, to
experience a lifestyle much different than my own back in the States. I
imagined a process of assimilation, and the myriad local friends I would make. I
imagined people would be eager to share their culture and their learning spaces
with me, just as I would be with them back home.
I
knew I would stand out, but I didn't realize how much it would matter.
Whether
we like it or not, Americans symbolize something; white Americans symbolize
something else; white American women symbolize yet another conglomeration of
ideas. American media is largely to blame, which many young Batswana
voraciously consume. During various social encounters, I realized that my
actual attributes were often overshadowed by assumptions, and that I would have
to persistently usurp these ideas in order to truly get to know a local
student. In only a few cases were my attempts successful.
A
friend of mine told me that dating or otherwise “getting with” a white and/or
foreign student is a status symbol, which partly explains why a vastly
disproportionate number of men approached me for “friendship.” Early on I also
noticed a trend among my passing exchanges with female students: even when I
smiled and tried to be friendly, some women would simply glare at me. My friend
told me that the dating scene among people our age is highly competitive and
possessive, and because of the privilege of being white and American, I was perceived
as a threat. Young women feel, as my friend put it, that “when you guys are
here, [the guys] forget about us.” Privileges related to race, class, and
nation of origin all intertwine to influence the ways Batswana think about
Americans and judge desirability. Foreign/Western
media is extremely influential, as is the more general phenomenon of cultural imperialism evident in
Botswana as well as other low-and-middle income nations.
Many
American students express discomfort about being referenced as “makgoa”—literally,
“white people.” In a conversation with one of my friends, I expressed a similar
confusion and frustration: casually singling someone out based on race is
completely unacceptable in most contexts in the U.S. He laughed, and told me
not to worry about it; the term isn't necessarily an insult, in fact he said it carries the
connotation of “boss.”
So
while it’s tempting to explain less-than-friendly treatment of American
students as “racism,” I think such an explanation is myopic and reactionary. Racism is institutionalized oppression that
often manifests in micro-interactions, which in turn reinforce
institutionalized oppression in a vicious cycle. White people quite simply are
not victims of racism in Botswana—or anywhere I would argue. We might resent
the stereotypes, the misconceptions, etc., but when it comes down to it, white
foreigners still figure prominently in Botswana’s private sector and of course
in globalized American (and European) media.
I believe a more nuanced explanation of tense
interactions with Batswana would be that Batswana have varying reactions to our
privilege, and the oblivion of many of those who possess it. Many members of
the study abroad group have expressed annoyance with local friends or
acquaintances asking for money. Many of us insist that we are not “rich” as
Batswana imagine based on stereotypes of the U.S. And while I am often quick to
point out to my local friends that there are many poor people in the U.S., I know that I am
not one of them, nor are any of my American peers.
While
in Gaborone, Americans may be heard exclaiming about their cravings for sushi
or lattés, or discussing their latest adventure on the coast of Mozambique. In
contrast, I have met people in Botswana who have never been out of the country,
who have never seen the ocean, who have never even been to the northern region
of the country to behold the Okavango Delta. I know students who are still
struggling financially despite the fact that tuition is free and stipends are
provided for living expenses.
Before
my most recent trip with fellow CIEE students, a local friend said to me:
“enjoy my Africa.” My heart sank. I understood. I realized why many local
students find Americans unapproachable. I realized why some students are hesitant or embarrassed to share aspects of Setswana culture, and instead try to fit in with us. The world over, consumerism and “the American dream” have directly exploited the global South. The U.S. and other world powers have created a climate of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” in terms of global capitalism. And as critical as we may be of our country, countless people want to be there. Africa has a
legacy of being treated as a commodity: for human beings and raw materials, for
tourism, for stories told back in the comfort of high-income lifestyles.We
have the power and privilege to travel all over the world, to commodify the process of “experiencing another culture,” reducing said cultures to trendy products we can consume. From the comfort of
American citizenship, middle- and upper- class incomes and English language
proficiency, it seems that nothing is off-limits as potential material to make young
Americans’ lives more “interesting”—or at least make our lives seem more interesting on social media or
coffee dates back in the U.S.
As
young exchange students, we have not created the world in which stark
disparities exist between many American students and Batswana students. But with
our privilege we have the responsibility
to understand and redress these disparities. I believe a true “global
citizen” does more than exclaim over a love of “ethnic cuisine” or regale
friends and family with stories from exotic locations. I believe he or she
understands the interconnectedness inherent in residing on this planet, guided
by forces historical and contemporary, and actively seeks awareness of his or
her place within that reality. This aspect of travel may be less glamorous, and
less easy to convey over Facebook, but I believe that’s what makes it all the
more important.
I
would encourage everyone to watch a TED talk by novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
called “The Danger of a Single Story,” which can be found here:
I
would also highly recommend a book by William Powers titled Blue Clay People. I just finished it,
and (although Powers sometimes frustrated me) I feel it has a lot of great concepts to consider for those who want to
work in low and middle income countries in the future.
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