My Biggest Challenge...

I have been debating about writing this here - whether I wanted to share this, whether I should share it. I fianlly decided to do it. What it comes down to is this, my struggles are as big a part of this as the wildly cool things. If I am going to accurately portray this experience for my many fans, then I need to share everything.

As most of you know, I am a strong, independant woman. My parents worked very hard to help Kara, Kate, and me become confident, self-assured women who can do anything for ourselves, with little help. We are respectful. open, and friendly. We can talk to anyone and we look everyone in the eye. The world is an open book for us. We can live on our own, buy anything we want, and go anywhere we want.

How surreal for me, then, to be living in a place where the opposite is the norm. Everyday, I am faced with making choices that are contrary to my instincts. At home, I walked down the street with my head held high. looking at everyone I passed and smiling. Here, as I walk down the street, I keep my head down, very careful not to draw attention. I can speak to other women and smile at them - although the smile is something somewhat foreign to them. But, I can't look at men or speak to them, and I definitely can not smile. If I were to do these things, it would be viewed as an invitation for more.

I am fiercely independent - sometimes to a fault. At home, I could take care of myself. I didn't need help or protection. I have never asked a man to walk me home - until I got here. One evening, my cluster was meeting to do some work. Afterwards, we got ice cream. Sasha and Whitney headed home together, in the opposite direction of where I needed to go, leaving me with Erik and David. I would have been strolled off on my own, until I looked around and saw nothing but men - hanging out, squatting on the corners, spitting sunflower seeds. It took a lot, but I humbled myself and asked one of the boys to walk me home. I could handle anything on my own, but the image of protection was necessary. Since then, I have lost the shame in asking for an escort. Anytime I head out after about 7 pm, I ask one of the boys to walk me home.

I am lucky - because I have dark hair and dark eyes, I blend a little better and don't get as much unwanted attention as some of my friends. Oh, I still get the stares, the teeth sucking, and the calls of "hello, hello." But when I compare that to my friend who was asked how much she is, simply because she has light hair and blue eyes, I think I get off pretty easy.

One of my favorite things to do in the states was to go to a coffee shop and sit and read a book. First of all, there are no coffee shops here. Setting that fact aside, as a woman, I cannot go to a restaurant - or really anywhere - alone. There are chay-hannas (tea houses) all over the places, but they are absolutely off limits to women. Here, in the AZ, women socialize in the home. There is no such thing as going out to eat with girlfriends.

I, like many among my family and friends, have a great appreciation for alcoholic beverages. A nice glass of wine after a tough day or a cold beer on a hot summer day. Well, that is a vice I have had to give up here. Women don't drink here. Older women can buy vodka or beer or whatever for their husbands, but if one of us were to walk into a store and buy alcohol, it would be quite innappropriate - and shameful. At dinner at a friend's house recently, her host father was pouring shot after shot of vodka for the American men, while we girls quietly sipped our tea. I honestly didn't want to be doing shots of vodka, but is was so frustrating to sit and watch, not even being asked if we wanted to participate, simply because of our gender.

I am finding different ways to handle this particular stress. One of my program managers, Gulnara, gave me some really good advice. She helped me to remember that this is just temporary. I remind myself of that a lot. I have discovered that when I get annoyed, walking down the street, I start to hum the song my mom used to sing when she was losing patience with my sisters and me. Inevitably, I think of my mom and my dad, and how proud everyone at home is of me, and I'm ok again.

It is interesting - I struggle with this on a daily basis - I think most of the Americans do. There are times when I feel like a shell of myself. But then there is this - this week I had two seperate conversations - one with my mom, and one with a friend from home. They both said that I sounded happier and more like myself than I have in years. And the thing is, that is true. As hard as the hardest parts can be, I am more at peace with myself and what I am doing than I have been in years. And that is good.