Oh Social Media, How I Love-Hate You!

Now that I'm home for the holidays, I've had a whole lotta time to catch up with friends, get through my to-do list, listen to podcasts I've been putting off, watch movies I've wanted to see, etc. I've also been on Instagram and Facebook a whole lot, and am constantly reminded of why I "shut down" my Facebook account a few years ago (that stuff never goes away, does it?!) 

Anyone who knows me know that I'm as honest and direct as they come. I have a very low tolerance for the BS. My time is much too precious for that. This past weekend I realized that Facebook and Instagram (I'm not a Twitter-er) are nothing but a highlight reel of people's lives. I have a friend whose FB/IG life is NOTHING like her real life. And I get it, who wants to post their struggles, weaknesses, mistakes or limitations on the big, bad world wide web? Nevertheless, I think that people take to FB or IG in this sort of "My Life is Better than Yours" competition that's truly sad. What's more, FB/IG has become the go-to platform to verify facts and put the stamp of "realness" on life events. Has FB/IG become the social media version of Wikipedia? 

On the other hand, I've also seen how folks use FB/IG to promote their businesses, ideas, movements, and to simply keep in touch with people near and far. I can't say that these social platforms are the devil. This simply isn't true. I think they are a powerful vehicle to brand yourself and market whatever product you are pushing. There are definitely huge perks to being on these social sites. 

It's just a shame to see how some folks use social media to become delusional. Stop comparing yourself to someone's highlight reel. You'll never measure up.

Just my two cents. 

(PS - this is not as a result of someone saying something or doing something to me on a social media site. This is purely my opinion based on things I've seen)

Dancers Don't Make Money

My roommate came to me yesterday and told me that one of her best students from the dance class she teaches is going to drop out of the program. When she approached him to find out why, he said it was personal and couldn't share. Then, as is so common here, a student's classmate approached my roommate and told her that the reason why he had to drop out was because his mom said he couldn't make any money as a dancer. She had him drop out of the dance class and start taking music classes at our center because "you can make money as a musician, not as a dancer."

This story made me think about when I was in college and would travel here or speak to someone that lived here. While people seemed pleased with the fact that I attended an Ivy League institution, they definitely were baffled by my  Latin American Studies major. I often had to explain that the major was a critical look at Latin America from a sociological, anthropological, historical, and political point of view. My explanation was almost always followed by "what are you going to do with that?" I then had to explain that in the US, your major didn't necessarily have to correlate with your career choice. Employers, save for a few industries, looked at well-roundedness, skill set, applicable experiences, etc. From the confused looked on their faces, I knew they didn't understand what I was saying....and after my roommate's story from yesterday, I understand why.

Dominicans who are lucky enough to attend and finish college and/or graduate school usually go into architecture, engineering (for my Dominicanos out there, how many ingenieros do you know?), accountancy, law, medicine, or information technology.  As of late, psychology and teaching have become a fan favorite. For as long as I could remember, I would come back to the island and hear of a cousin or family friend who had just finished school and majored in one of the abovementioned fields. I always wondered why this was the case. Didn't people want to study classics like Plato or Aristotle or critically examine The Holy Bible? Clearly, I received a liberal higher education lol. But regardless, I have always wondered why majors were so "limited" here.

Now I know understand that what I viewed as "limited" is in fact not so, but a function of the environment. In a place like the Dominican Republic where earning a decent living is a matter of life or death, folks can't afford, literally, to spend time pondering and reflecting on the works of Machiavelli. If they are going to spend time on schooling, it has to be directly correlated to their earning potential. Point period. No ifs, ands, or buts. This also explains why, when I informed my mom of my major, the first question out of her mouth was "what are you going to do with that?" (Thankfully, I am lucky enough to have a mom that supports my decisions no matter what, even when she doesn't entirely understand them.)

Upon reflection, I think about my students and how I've had such a hard time getting them to think critically or even understand what critical thinking is. For my 12 and 13-year-olds, asking questions, whether it is to clarify a misunderstanding or question an idea or thought, is a completely foreign concept. When I first arrived here and learned about the education system, I was a shock because I grew up hearing my family members boast about the Dominican education system and how it produced some of the smartest people in the world. Thinking about it, this was when Balaguer, who was a scholar and prolific author, was president. Once Balaguer passed in 1996 and Leonel became president, the Dominican Republic became synonymous with tourism and foreign investments. I can't say that the Dominican education system has gone to h-e-double hockey sticks because of Leonel but there is something to be said about the change in political and economic landscape in this country and our education system. Is there a correlation between how we're grooming (or not) our young minds and how Dominicans earn a living? Is the education system molding reflective, critical thinkers who will be change-makers in their communities or are we letting minds go to waste by fostering rote skill memorization that could be used in hotels and resorts? 

One of the biggest lessons I learned as Teach for America corps member was to be aware of my locus of control. As someone who is a natural problem-solver, with a type-A personality, I am prone to wanting to fix every problem I encounter. I really wish I could change how education is often viewed and consequently, how teachers are trained and students taught. I so desperately want my students to be able to argue and defend a point of view using appropriate vocabulary and ideas instead of focusing on the skills they will need to earn a living. Of course, I am not so naive to think that this is solely an education problem...but that's where my locus of control is. While I can't change the Dominican education system in 10 months, I can surely have an impact, even if it's in a small way. 

"We must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference, ignore the small daily differences we can make which, over time, add up to big differences that we often cannot foresee" - Marian Wright Edelman

Super Overdue - My Trip to Haiti, Las Fiestas Patronales, and Montecristi

A few weeks ago, I visited Haiti as we (we as in DREAM staff and volunteers) participated in the Border of Lights' annual event. BOL (borderoflights.org) is a "collective that comes together to commemorate, collaborate and continue the legacy of hope and justice." They bring a lot of awareness to the issues plaguing Dominicans and Haitians in both countries, especially those surrounding human rights (if you have been living under a rock and do not know what is happening in this country as far as stripping folks of their statehood, read here.We got up nice and early (6:45am - thank God I'm a morning person!) and traveled to the border town of Dajabon.

Funny aside - when I told my mom I was going, she was like "Mira! Make sure you take your mosquitero!" Naturally, I'm like, "Mom, how can I take my mosquitero to a hotel?" She says, "Make it work! It's Dajabon and the mosquitoes there are on steroids!" LMBO

Anyway,we arrive in Dajabon and the first thing I notice is that it is DUS-TY! It's super fast paced, there's a million and one things going on. After we drop our things in our hotel, we have lunch. Later, one of my colleagues and I are set to faciliate on the BOL's workshops so we are chatting it up with one of the conference leaders. I step outside and who do I bump into? Julia Alvarez! Yup, the one and only! Ever since I read "How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents" in high school, I've been hooked on her work. I do a double-take because she has aged quite a bit and doesn't quite look like the pictures on the back covers of her books, but I'm sure it's her. I ask our Executive Director to confirm and indeed, it is Julia! Thankfully, I got to chat with her quite a bit and she is so incredibly smart and insightful. Naturally, I had to snag a pic!

After the day's activities, we went down to Massacre River/Dajabon River/Parsley River which is literally a river that divides the DR and Haiti. In 1937 (and a few times after), DR's dictator, Trujillo, ordered the massacre of tens of thousands of Haitians and most of them happened in this river as many were crossing into the DR. Everyone in attendance lit a candle to commemorate those that perished and still suffer the ramifications of the deep-rooted racism in the DR.

Look closely. Those are Haitans waiting to cross over. It was SO many of them.

Coincidently, that weekend was also the Fiestas Patronales (patronage festivals). According to Wikipedia, A fiesta patronal is usually dedicated to a saint or virgin, who is the patron of whichever city holds the fiesta. Usually, town members adorn the town streets with colorful decorations and other things. In some larger cities, there may be several fiestas, one fiesta for each neighborhood, usually about the patron saint for the local parish. All this means is party + booze. We went to a mass, of course, but after that it was a par-tay! A local artist, Vaquero, came out to perform and we had a blast. I accidently drank Brugal and can't remember the rest of the night. Oh well.
In the morning, it was time to go to Haiti. I was so excited. We all loaded our trucks (we were about 35 in all) and set for Ouanaminthe, Haiti, which is a border on the Haitian side. I wasn't ready for the stuff I saw at the border. First of all, the day before, Julia (Alvarez, I mean. She's my boo, now!) and her crew had gone to customs in Dajabon to clear us for the next morning. When we get there, the "boss" in charge was giving us excuses about not knowing that we were coming etc etc. He was being a total prick. A lot of us had cameras and he took an issue with that saying that we had to right to photograph him blah blah blah. After a lot of back and forth, Julia and her crew asked for our passports (I was PETRIFIED OF LOSING MY PASSPORT!!) and she took them to customs and had them stamped. She also paid whatever the fee was for us to leave the country (I think this was what she was trying to avoid by going the day before. Tons of volunteer and aid groups go to Haiti this way). We waited for TWO HOURS before being able to cross over into Haiti.

So. Remember when I said I drank Brugal the night before? Yea, well, I wasn't feel too hot the next day. When we got to Haiti, we participated in a park clean-up and youth development activities at an orphanage. I,unfortunately, couldn't participate because I was feeling so sick. I spent the afternoon in a nun's bedroom sleeping... :-/ When we left Haiti, we picked up our things and headed back to Cabarete via Montecristi:

El Morro, Montecristi

This beach was so incredibly beautiful. I hadn't been here in about 10 years. So nice, peaceful and completely unadulterated. 

We got to Cabarete super late and I was hungry, tired and upset that I got caught in the rain. All in all, it was an AMAZING trip and I would do it all over again if I had to. Minus getting sick, of course.

OMG! I totally forgot to tell you about the Dajabon Market! We went there the first day we got to Dajabon. It's a market that is only open on Fridays, I believe, and it's Haitian and Dominican vendors alike selling anything and everything you can POSSIBLY think of. And the heat! OH MY, THE HEAT! It was incredible. There was so many things going on at the same time. I didn't have my camera with me so I couldn't take pictures but if you ever have a chance to go to Dajabon and are up for an adventure, this is surely it!

Only in DR

I should have totally written this weeks ago, but between my birthday weekend, going to the beach, and just chillin', I totes forgot! Hahaha!

I've always known about Dominican "car washes." They are a legitimate place to wash your car....BUT! It also sort of becomes an outdoor club. Think chairs, tables, booze, and tons of dancing. When I arrived in Cabarete, the locals began to talk to me about "la bomba." I had no idea what they were talking about....a gas station as in una bomba de gasolina LMAO. I wanted to die. But of course, I went the following weekend. 


 (here's the gas station on one side)


(and here is the party on the other side)

We were having a blast! The Executive Director of the org I'm volunteering for came out as well as most of local staff members. It was awesome....until we find ourselves in the middle of the corre-corre (translates to "run-run" lol, but it means everyone was running for cover). I didn't think but just ran for covering behind a motorcycle. Turns out that someone had broken a bottle on someone else and a fight broke out. Literally, like 2 minutes after the bottle shattered on the floor, the music came back on and the DJ said all was well with the world. I thought to myself that this was an everyday occurrence around these parts and didn't mind staying but other folks wanted to leave. So we headed back to Cabarete (we were 2 towns over in Sabaneta de Yasica) and went to the only club in town called Ojo. All in all, it was a great night. #onlyindr

Not Dominican Enough

A Dominican Person (ADP): de donde tu eres? (Where are you from?)

Me:  Dominicana (Dominican)

ADP: Perot u naciste aqui? (But, were you born here?)

Me: no, me crie alla pero venia todos los veranos (No, I was born there – everyone here knows that “there” is the US – but I used to come during my summers.)

ADP: gives me the side eye and feignly smiles.

And then I’d do anything –thicken my accent, use sayings that are typical in island – to be accepted. To be seen as one of them. To be….Dominican?

I should be used to the above exchange by now for as long as I can remember, I’ve always been asked where I was born to validate “where I was from” when visiting.  But somehow, now that I know and am conscious that this island will be my home for the next year, it matters all of a sudden. It makes me wonder whether I was subconsciously okay with being a “foreigner” though, at least I thought, if I had the opportunity, I’d shout from every mountain top that I was Dominicana.  I do know that it’s important to me to be seen as a genuine community member – be it as a resident of Cabarete or Dominican – because I am a Dominican-American volunteer at a NGO in the Dominican Republic….make sense?  I get the sense that people like me don’t “come back home” to do this type of work so, I’m not going to lie, it makes me feel a bit special J But egos aside, it is important for me for students’ family members to see me as someone who they can relate to at some level and not just another volunteer that will come and go after a few weeks.

“Where are you from?”

I hate this question. It’s a racial micro-aggression that suggests that you are an outsider, a foreigner.  Aside from that, it’s a packed question that can’t always be answered in a word or sentence. Before living in the DR, I always said I was Dominican and most people never questioned it back in the US. I never felt the need to explain it. In fact, I didn’t care if people understood because all that was important to me were that folks knew my true heritage. I mean, I’m super proud of being Dominicana, why not flaunt it? And yes, there’s a lot to be said about negating my American-ness. Topic for another day J  Here, I feel that once folks perceive that you are not native and then claim to be, they need proof of said claim. Given DR’s history and current state of Haitian-Dominican relations, I guess I can understand.  As most folks know, Dominicans and Haitians don’t have the best relationship: we share an island, Haiti occupied DR for 22 years and later, a dictator took over and made it his personal business to persecute Haitians, negate all of our African ancestry (despite he himself being part Haitian) and mess with the Dominican psyche to the point where we can still feel it’s ramifications 70 years later (i.e. when I would come for the summers, my mom would slather a ton of sunscreen on me. Not because she feared the affects of sun damage, but rather, because she didn’t want me to look like Haitian.) The discrimination and racism towards Haitans is so deep, it’s systemic which yes, it happens in the US but Dominicans are blunt about it.

If you look at the part of the Dominican constitution that deals with nationality, it clearly states that someone is Dominican if and only if they are born here AND their parents are Dominican. People like me can also become Dominican citizens (which I am in the process of doing! Woohoo!) but it doesn’t matter where I was born. I just need a parent who is Dominican. While they “recognize” those that were born here but whose parents are of another nationality (read: Haiti), you better believe that getting your cedula (ID) will be difficult and if you do get one, it’s a different color. There’s just no escaping the label here.

Note: the reason why I specify Haiti above is because all this nationality BS happens with Haitians for the most part. Folks from other parts of the world are not knocking down DR’s door to become Dominican citizens….unless you’re European, your euros go far here and own a business).

I get it. Xenophobia is ingrained and runs deep here. Even though I’m not ignorant to the facts, it still sucks that I have to prove my Dominican-ness even though I feel as Dominican as anyone here. I guess that’s just how the cookie crumbles. 

2.5. 17. 14. 32 - What's the Deal with These Numbers, Anyway?

*Latin American countries' commitment to education as a percetnage of GNP remains stable at 5%, but the Dominican Republic's investment is less than 2.5%

*According to the DR Ministry of Education, the families I am going to work with have a illiteracy rate well above 17%.

*The first grade dropout rate int he Dominican Republic is 14%.

*Around 32% of the Dominican population lives on $2 USD or less per day.

Today was my first day of orientation. Besides getting my little, old-school Alcatel dumb phone with a DR number (I feel so terrible saying that but, it is the appropriate term, no?!) and opening my Dominican bank account, I learned a lot about the community in which I will be working and.....my country. 

Turns out that Cabarete isn't a typical town. Many years ago, there was the beach and a town in the Loma (hill). Literally. There was one family that lived out here and they were by the last name Perez and that's it. It was just them. They mainly lived off of agriculture. Then, one day, some French-Canadian dude came to visit and realized the beach was awesome for wind-surfing (kite-surfing comes later) and came to live here....should I finish the story? lol. As you've probably already figured out, tourism boomed, hotels started lining up the beaches and fortunately for SOME Dominicans, jobs became available. The folks that were prepared for those jobs, however, came from more developed cities like Santiago, Puerto Plata and even Santo Domingo in the south. They started to settle into what's now known as Cabarete which is all fine and dandy until you think....what about when those folks start procreating? What schools will they go to? How will they get the job training that they need to be able to work in their own town? Exactly. It's ridic.com.

My organization came about from a service trip. That has blossomed into a wonderful organization that is, literally, providing the foundation for something remarkable. Aside from running Montessori schools for 3-7 year olds (Montessori is a different type of teaching that involves multi-grade classrooms and allows students to make sense of the world around them on their own terms, as opposed as having the teacher define those parameters), the organization runs a multitude of programs from job-placement to sexual education to sports. Any Cabarete-an (haha) from the ages of 3-24 can find something to do with the organization. Pretty amazing. 

Aside from being a very overwhelming day, full of information that my brain has probably already forgotten, it was a very sobering day. It was hard to hear the numbers and realize that my little sister and brother are growing up in a real messed up system. It was very powerful, however, in validating my decision to come here. My reasons for returning home keeps growing every day but the #1 reason stays the same: it was already written.

Here it goes...

I've been toying with the idea of starting a blog for the last 4 years when I started teaching. But then....well, teaching happened. If you know anything about being a teacher and teaching, you know that your everyday is sleep, wake up at the crack of dawn, teach some children, deal with some BS, go home, eat, sleep, repeat. I didn't know that at the time. Anyway, fast forward 4 years and here we are!

In the next couple of weeks, I will  be moving to the Dominican Republic for a year to not only spend QT with my fam, but also to work for an amazing, education-based non-profit in the northern coast of the island. I've always wanted to "take some time off" and while I'll still be "working," it is surely time off of the craziness called my life :)

In this blog, I will be documenting my year of (hopefully!) rejuvenation, re-energizing, and enlightenment. I suppose there will be other rants, too, about being natural in the DR (ay Dios, I don't know if I'm ready to seriously tell people off), staying fit in a place where white rice and fried chicken are a staple, speaking Spanish 95% of the day, and not having dumplings readily accessible. I seriously don't know what I'm stepping into but, join me for the ride!

J