Before I start, I want to add the disclaimer that these are some reflections I, personally, have had here in Argentina. My little reflections are 100% shaped by my identities - I am white, able-bodied, cis, female, etc. Therefore, these aren't necessarily universal for all Fulbrighters here but are thoughts I have had and discussed with a few others.
Thought #1
For me, parts of this experience have very closely mirrored parts of my experience thus far in graduate school. Clearly, I don't mean workwise because, at this point, I'm pretty sure you all know that I am working significantly less here. I mean in regard to communicating the experience. Grad school is a silly little all-encompassing, unique experience. I had never known it was possible to simultaneously feel incredibly incompetent but yet wildly competent until I started grad school. Those feelings, though, are really hard to express with people who are not or have not had similar experiences. Of course, I can share bits and pieces, and the people outside of my grad school bubble can try to understand. However, more than anything, it probably just ends up sounding like I am in an abusive relationship. It's really impossible to describe what it feels like when your advisor (hi Renée) says, "Good job" or when the TA meeting goes absolutely horribly but there are only two weeks left in the semester so you just have to hold on or when your advisor (hi again) said they liked an idea last week but this week they don't or when you have to choose between your own classwork, the grading you're behind on, and the analysis you said you'd have done or when a group member asks for your opinion on their next steps on a project. Grad school is really a "you had to be there" experience.
Well, so is this Fulbright. I think experiences like the Fulbright and grad school are hard to communicate because as someone going through the experience, I have an idea of how I would want someone to respond to what I share. Therefore, it can be disappointing or disheartening when someone doesn't respond in the way you had hoped. It is, of course, unreasonable to expect someone to respond exactly as you want them to. I'm not arguing that. It can be frustrating, though. For example, when you want to share how proud you were of yourself for speaking up in your mediation class, although the other person can congratulate you, they cannot truly relate to the absolute struggle it took to get to that point. They haven't experienced the embarrassment that after years of Spanish, you still stumble over your words. They don't quite know what it feels like to know that as soon as you speak, people will know you are a foreigner. They weren't there the first day when you didn't really know what the culture of the class was, so you awkwardly had to keep peeking to see what everyone else was doing. They probably aren't aware that, here, it seems to be more common to be more open about your feelings, but that's just not something you're comfortable with quite yet. While this was just an example, so many moments here, both big and small, have been preceded by other feelings, stressful encounters, mistakes, and the mere pressure to exist.
While in the process of writing this post, I found this TikTok below. I think it does a really good job of describing what it's like/how can feel when abroad in a country where you are not completely fluent in the language. It can be difficult to express feelings and experiences like this to someone who has never had this experience before. Like grad school, it may be because it just sounds super depressing and a little exaggerated. Like, why would I put myself through this? However, it's just one of the realities you face while being abroad for an extended period of time that you just learn to get used to. Of course, it's not anyone's fault that they don't have these experiences, but the lack of them can sometimes be noticeable and create a barrier for me when talking to people.
Now, I'm not saying that anyone reading this has done a poor job at reacting to the stories that I share. That would be a tad passive aggressive. This is just me sharing.
Thought #2
It's super weird trying to make friends and form relationships when time is limited. When you think about it, in reality, quite a lot of our relationships are temporary, but I think it's pretty abnormal to have the expiration date stamped on the back of the relationship. While being here, however, I can't help but think of the "expiration date," let's say, of my time here. To be fair, this is a little dramatic. I do acknowledge that leaving Argentina does not mean I'll never speak to any of these people ever again. Hopefully, you get what I'm trying to say, though. I am out here intruding into people's lives, forcing them to let me participate in their daily and weekly routines all with the looming end-of-grant date. That really makes you think about the value and even the point of relationships, right? I have people fully accepting me into their lives by inviting me out, making sure I'm okay, learning how to make food for me all while aware of the fact that it's temporary. You can't help thinking, why? Why do they care if I am taken care of? Why do they want me to join them for merienda if I won't be able to in December? How do you navigate temporary relationships when you are actually aware that they are temporary? I mean this in both ways, too: Why should I seek out relationships, and why should the people I seek out accept me?
I'm probably a little too caught up in this, but I can't help but be hyper-aware of it. I'm just hanging out over here interrupting everyone's lives for no reason other than to selfishly feel connected.
Thought #3
This may be an answer to the previous thought, but: if they cared, they would....This may apply to a bajillion things, but, right now, at this very instance, I'm talking about my experience as a vegan. Granted, being vegan is a lifestyle choice for me, so it's preeeeeeetty low on the totem pole when we think about reasons people may treat me poorly. With that being said, it gets old quickly when people make a huge deal about this lifestyle choice. I have very little patience when people are rude about what I eat and/or when people refuse to make small accommodations to items so that I have something to eat and/or when people consistently make unnecessary comments about how "vegan food" is so different (because I promise you my "vegan" potato is no different than your "not vegan" potato).
The amount of people who have never intentionally made a vegan before but have done so to make sure I have something to eat is large, very large. Apparently, one of my love languages is people going out of their way to make sure I have food. In a country in which asados are a huge part of the culture, people have made me cookies, pizzas, muffins, rosquitas, etc.
So, I'll repeat myself...if they cared, they would.
Thought #4
To preface, this section contains some of my political beliefs. I'm not here to argue, so if you aren't a least a little left-leaning and you don't want to be annoyed by my beliefs, you may want to skip this section.
As a Fulbrighter, I am, technically, a U.S. representative. I'll be honest...this is a lot harder than I anticipated. For starters, I am 100% not qualified to be a representative of the U.S. as a country. I'm talking major imposter syndrome here. I am so little, and the U.S. is so big and has a population with so many people of such diverse backgrounds. There is soooo much of the U.S. that I don't know. How can I even begin to do it justice? Fortunately, I have learned to be okay with the discomfort of this thought. I, personally, think that this discomfort is actually a good thing. It would be pretty problematic if I came here and started confidently spewing information about the U.S. as if I, a privileged white female United Statesian, held all U.S. knowledge.
Additionally, it can be really difficult to be a "representative" of a country and acknowledge the great privilege I have of being from the U.S. when I am consistently watching my own rights and other peoples' rights get taken away or simply not even exist. I'll be honest that even now, I'm still trying to perfect this balancing act. It can be really easy to forget about and disregard my privilege when I watched the Supreme Court overturn Roe v. Wade and when I talk about a country that will let it's people die because they can't afford healthcare and when I hear about yet another mass shooting and when a car backfiring scares me because I automatically think it's a gun and when I know I'm going to struggle to afford living there when I go back and when the government find new ways to discriminate against and hold back Black, Indigenous, and People of Color.
Now I'm not here to ask you to feel sorry for me because this is tricky. I'm just sharing thoughts I've had while being here. In reality, this dissonance has been good. It has forced me to reflect on my position in the world as someone from the U.S. and what that means in a context broader than a university in Iowa or a restaurant in Virginia. I have and always will have the privilege of having been randomly plopped into the land mass of the United States. There's nothing I can do about that. What I can do, though, is educate myself on, for example, how the U.S. has intervened in Argentine affairs. I can also find ways to show pieces of the U.S. that aren't just in movies, TV shows, and books. I can find ways to amplify and discuss voices of people who aren't like me. As a "representative" of the U.S. (I use quotations because the word feels way too formal otherwise), I think it's really important for me to acknowledge that I don't and cannot represent everyone in the U.S. Although I can share my own personal opinions and factual pieces of information about the healthcare system in the U.S. (for example), I can't, let's say, speak to what it is like to not have health insurance. Again, that's okay, but I have to acknowledge that.
In conclusion, it's been hard, but a good, challenging hard.
Thought #5
It's a lot easier to grow as a person when you are completely and, almost painfully, alone. Shouldn't moving to Iowa have been enough to discover that? Yeahhhh but no. Not quite. While I may have been in a new place with new people, I was still in my comfort zone: I was still in school. I can talk all day about how grad school is drastically different than undergrad, but, at the end of the day, it's pretty darn similar. We're all just a bunch of little humans running around looking for validation in one way or another while being incredibly overworked. Grad school has similar vibes but just with more work involved. Therefore, I think it was crucial for me to have an opportunity beyond this to just explore and discover. This sounds super hippie dippie. I know. For real, though, it's really hard to grow as a human when you continue to put yourself in environments in which you feel comfortable.
With that in mind, I am almost kind of grateful that COVID pushed this off for a year. Grad school changes you. Grad school ages you. Naturally, I matured a little. So, personally, I don't think I would've gotten quite as much out of this experience if I had only one semester of grad school under my belt. Not surprisingly, having to make my own way in a new state was great practice for the Fulbright. I also got to strengthen my ties with some of my grad school pals, which has been helpful while being here. And, realistically, if I can survive a few semesters of grad school, I can do anything.
I swear I had a bunch of other thoughts that I wanted to share, but nothing is coming to me. Nothing at all. I'll continue to share when things come to mind as I have some fun in my last month of my Fulbright.
Stay tuned because I plan to share what I've been doing in the last few months since I haven't been traveling!!
Here are some pictures to keep you busy while you wait:
Here, an injured bird is being placed in a tree to die peacefully.
Look at the moon!!
Recently, I've been walking north rather than south on my walks. There are a lot less people with just as much water and pretty views.
Yani is currently partying in Buenos Aires without me, but here we are eating lunch before she left.
I love these flowers.
Yani's mate...
I drink mate on the daily now.
I had an aggressive cold the other week, so I got some paracetamol to help me out.
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