About Me
.JPG){kind=small}
- A Gringa
- Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
- "La Gringa en Honduras" has become "A Gringa No Brasil". All of my posts about Peace Corps and Central America are still here, but I've changed the name and design for my new locale - Rio de Janeiro!
What's New
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
While I was in the Dominican Republic Honduras
All PCVs are made aware of and warned about this during training, but no matter what precautions you take, it’s impossible to avoid becoming a piece of town gossip. A friend of mine walked into my office the other day, and after the usual pleasantries, he told me that people think I’m creída, presumida, and fresa. Essentially saying I’m stuck up. (For those of you who remember some of your Spanish, you’re not losing your memory, fresa means strawberry in most Spanish speaking countries, but it has a double meaning here.) It’s not the first time that I had heard that from someone in my community, and obviously, I was a little put off by it. However, I realized that the few people who have told me this were all male.
Now I’m going to sidetrack a little bit. Honduran men, in general, are offensive. Machismo runs rampant in this country, lending itself to a lot of piropos. Piropo in the nicest sense of the word means “compliment”, but usually (and especially in the context of Honduras
I get piropos every day, at any time of day, but especially if I go for a run. If it were cool enough to run in pants, I would, just to avoid the extra harassment that I get from wearing shorts. Because of all this, I don’t have a lot of interaction with men in my town unless they’re coworkers, friends that I’ve met through other women, or members of my host family. I’m sorry, but yelling “Hey sexy!” across the park isn’t going to persuade me to walk over and start a conversation with you, and making exaggerated kissing noises at my office window won’t encourage me to ask you out on a date.
My theory is that most men in my town feel snubbed and rejected, leading them to call me stuck up and egotistical. This idea was held up by my host mom and neighbor a while back when me and my lack of boyfriends came up in conversation. They were surprised and happy that I hadn’t gone around flirting and dating a bunch of guys in town like they had seen in the past. This led to chisme about past volunteers they’ve known, and there were more than a few implications that some of them were easy. So I guess I’m a little disappointed that some people think I’m creída, but I’d rather have the men calling me that than have the women calling me a slut.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Yes, choose creida :)
You know what you are. I know what you are. We know who you are.
But understanding a person is like reading a book- everyone gets a different message.
Hondurans read- people, not books- in their uniquely Honduran way. For us gringos, what does that mean?
A well intentioned young-woman trying to tread lightly in a small village. She wants people to like her. She wants the respect she deserves. She wants friends.
Oh, you mean that girl who thinks she's too good for us? The one that ALWAYS hangs out with the same people and never has time for anyone else?
A single guy in a small village looking for someone to talk to that won't tell him he's going to hell. Someone that wants to go out and have fun once in a while. Maybe even go into town for a beer, or something as simple as go swimming in the river.
"One of those girl's is going to end up pregnant. I heard he lined 'em all up and made each one of them kiss him."
Why the hell is it so hard for them to understand us?
Maybe we're to blame. We're the ones going into their villages, into their country, with our gringo ways and expecting them to understand us. Are they supposed to judge us by different standards because we're gringos?
But we go out of our way and try our best to fit in. We choose not to have relationships because of the gossip. Or not to drink a harmless beer or a glass of red wine with our dinner.
That doesn't mean we don't want those things. On the contrary, their absence makes us want them even more.
So what do we decide to do? We know we can't go on like this for two years. We can't hide who we are. If we try, we'll fail. We'll end up falling into something much more dangerous than the consequences of Honduran gossip.
In the end, we know that we just have to say "f'em". I am who I am and if you think I'm stuck up, a slut, a Tiger Woods wannabe, or just a really weird gringo then you obviously don't know me. You obviously haven't even tried to get to know me.
Be you. Be who you want to be. If they read you wrong and don't get the intended message, try some new lines. Rephrase it.
But don't change the meaning. Your book- our books- are just too damn good for that.
Post a Comment