Embracing Whiteness

A strange cocktail of European genes has given me a rather unusual set of physical characteristics. I'm very short, I have brown, curly hair, blue eyes and I'm EXTREMELY white. Not the romantic, peaches & cream complexion kinda white; I'm the white-as-a-wall-to-the-point-of-transparent kind of pale. If I get cold, those nearby can literally count my veins. It's borderline disturbing. On top of that, I have a mess of freckles all over my body. Despite vain attempts to get tan (or even pinkish, for that matter), my skin simply burns, peels and returns to it's stubborn state of pasty. As a teenager, it was my most embarassing feature--- which unfortunately included my whole body. Over the years, I've experimented with every kind of skin-color altering avenue. Self-tanning creams, sprays, tanning booths and, most recently, airbrush spray tans. Why do I mention all this? Well, because in the U.S. I'm just "really white". Here in Brazil, I'm a total freakshow.

Brazil's history of racial mixture is evident on the faces of every person I pass in street every day. As a scholar of race, I know that, in reality, Brazilians range from ebony black to my color white. However, the vast majority fall into a middle, brownish category. It's beautiful to see. Dark hair, dark eyes and varying shades of moreno (brown) make the stereotypical Brazilian "type" an international symbol of sex appeal. I am intensely jealous. We are currently in the summer season (preparing for Carnival) and showing skin is definitely in. Short shorts, tank tops, flip flops and breezy summer dresses are all around. Unfortunately, I am forced to suffer in the heat of the day with long pants and closed-toed shoes for fear of exposing my stare-inducing whiteness.

You think I'm exaggerating? I literally get stared at every day because of the color of my skin. Not polite, quick glances....long, intense, full-body-scanning stares. I'm weird....I do not belong and that's obvious. It starts to wear on you after a while. At first, I didn't realize it was SUCH a big deal. Then, it slowly dawned on me. Oh.....that's why no one wants to sit beside me on the bus or the subway...I'm too white.

This is not to say that being white is completely awful. It truly does have surprising advantages. Since I speak Portuguese fluently, I'm often treated like a VIP, I get to speak with high-level individuals that I'm sure the average Brazilian would have trouble contacting and I'm constantly given "passes" and considerations that I know darker-skinned Brazilians would be denied-- despite being a poor student. I can walk into any hotel, expensive apartment building, ritzy restaurant, exclusive club and no one will ask me who I am, what I'm doing there or if I have ID. It's assumed. However, the reverse is also true. I'm often perceived to be an oddity, a source of judgement, racist, a source of income and a spoiled, privileged brat.

I'm not quite sure what to make of all this yet. In the U.S., to be honest, the color of my skin never really crossed my mind. It's not the "free ticket" to privilege that it is here and it's also not something that made me feel ostracized. I think-- to a small degree-- I have learned a bit about what it must have been like to be African-American in the U.S. in the past. I'm the majority in the U.S. but here, I'm a very distinct minority. A minority that has very clearly-defined stereotypes and incites very specific reactions from the majority. Movies, advertising and everyone I see around me do not reflect my physical reality nor my cultural identity. My "type" is not beautiful or desirable. It's truly been a fascinating way to experience and discover race and racism. Race was simply a social phenomena that I studied as an intellectual in the U.S.--- here, it's a part of my daily life. I'm trying to "embrace my whiteness", so to speak. I am attempting to be okay with myself, despite the way I'm seen by those around me. At times, I curse my genetics; wishing desperately to be brown or black or green or anything but white. Those other colors, of course, are not mine and never will be. Race is a tricky concept in any country and here in Brazil there is no shortage of complications-- as I've been learning.

Until next time...

Long Distance Love

Spending a holiday in a foreign country is a strange experience. Valentine's Day, despite being an internationally-celebrated day, falls on different days in other countries. Although today (Feb. 14th) isValentine's Day in the U.S., in Brazil it's June 12th. So, today I celebrated by myself....in my head. It makes you feel a little bit crazy to walk into a department store and not see little red hearts, boxes of chocolates and love-inspired greeting cards everywhere.

On top of that, it was the first holiday (and a rather important one for couples) the husband and I are spending apart. I'm not gonna lie-- it sucked. A lot. We tried to compensate. He sent me roses at my apartment, I sent him a card and some personalized candy, but it just wasn't the same. It wasn't even close. Because, well, let's face it-- it's a holiday about LOVE and the long distance version of love is a poor substitute for the day-to-day kind. Days like today really make me question what the hell I'm doing here and if it's really worth it. Being utterly and completely alone on Valentine's Day (when I have a perfectly good valentine) has really

brought out the girl in me. I am totally depressed.

I have never been the kind of girl who got homesick. I love my parents but I was excited to go away to college, move out, study abroad and re-locate to state over 500 miles away. I didn't ever miss the boyfriends I had during those years. I would have fun, check in and never think twice about it. The "missing" never interfered with being away from the familiar. When I met my husband, it destroyed me. I'm a sad, little bag of homesickness now. This whole situation is new territory for me. I've never felt this miserable while in the midst of an adventure. I'm now a sappy, overly-romantic cheeseball who cries during movies, while listening to songs and....at pretty much anything remotely emotional. My body literally feels achy because I miss him so much. I tried to rationalize it all away with all the good reasons for me being here, how it won't last forever, how it really isn't THAT big a deal (it's just a day), etc. No good. My brain was talking but the rest of me wasn't listening. I used to look down on "girly-girls" who talked like that; those girls were silly, stupid and pathetic for not "having a life" outside of some guy. And now I'm one of them. Ain't life something?

I feel like I should be tougher. I'm an adult, a grown woman, an academic, a professional, an educated person, a logical thinker!!! Not that I want to resist feeling it, I just never anticipated how overwhelming and incapacitating missing the one you love could be. Going through the motions of each day feels exhausting. I've found some great things and I'm making good progress with my work but...I just don't care. That shocks me. NOTHING else matters to me. It's lovely and confusing at the same time. Knowing that you can love someone so much-- FEEL so much-- is incredible; however, feeling like I can't function without constant infusions like an IV drip has revealed a whole new, extremely vulnerable, side of me that I wasn't prepared to deal with on this trip. Against my will, my time here is rapidly becoming a psychological adventure as well as an educational one.

Until next time...

Tough Love

(Above: "The Brazilian Circus- Here, YOU are the clown!")

My relationship with Brazil is like any other; it has ups and downs. The last three weeks have been the most challenging I've ever faced here. While adjusting to life in a new country is inevitably hard, it just seems like EVERYTHING has been going wrong at the same time. First, my flight got cancelled and re-scheduled. Then, after arriving, I went to get cash from the ATM but it kept saying "invalid PIN number". I had to virtually max out all my credit cards while waiting for my bank to re-set my PIN number and for my first grant disbursement to go through.

Things just went downhill from there: my cellphone wouldn't work, I couldn't find the right adapter to charge my laptop, I got knocked down by a burly dude while trying to board the subway, I got lost and missed an interview with someone, I got treated like a nuisance at EVERY establishment I entered (even when I spent a lot of money), I got tongue-tied trying to order at a restaurant, I couldn't figure out the paperwork to change my VISA, I was faced with the daunting task of acquiring a Brazilian ID, my landlord flagrantly broke our rental agreement knowing I have no way to fight back, etc. My poor husband has been bearing the brunt of my overseas misfortune. He's the one that had to go into the bank and plead on my behalf, he's the one who had to send an urgent Western Union so I wouldn't go completely broke and he's the one who has had to listen to me rant over Skype about all my problems. I've been so wrapped up in keeping my head above water and trying to stay sane that I've really taken his help for granted lately. I'm trying to make it up to him now.

The Western Union issue has been a perfect example of how huge my adjustment to Brazilian life will be. It was such a simple thing but became so ridiculously complicated that I nursed a burning hatred for Brazil, Brazilians and everything about my stay here for several days. I haven't felt calm and objective enough to blog about what happened until now. Brazilians have an odd and infuriating tendency to be selectively rigid about rules. Bureaucratic processes in Brazil are insanely difficult, expensive and confusing. Even a simple thing like cashing a W.U. money transfer took me 2 whole days! I went to the first bank (which was listed on their webpage as a W.U. client) and was told, after taking a number and waiting for an hour,that they "don't do that". Ok, fine. I went to the second bank and waited another hour only to be told that they "just started" doing those and "didn't know how yet" so, weren't willing to try. Getting angry. Third bank went like this --

"We can't cash that unless you have an account with us".

"But I'm a foreigner. I can't have an account with you. Money transfers are for INTERNATIONAL currency exchanges....that's why they were invented! You don't NEED an account!"

"I'm sorry. If you want to open an account with us then we can help you."

"How long would that take?"

"About a week or so."

"A WEEK? Forget it." (stomp, stomp, stomp)

Finally, I went to a Western Union office in Copacabana; figuring, surely THEY can cash this. I get there, show my passport, give them the transfer number and am told "this isn't you". WHAT?? They wouldn't cash the transfer because my "middle name" was missing and they couldn't verify that I was who I said I was. By this point, I've had it. My feet hurt, I'm totally drenched in sweat, I'm out of money and I'm raging. I got into an argument with the dude at the window and he promptly turned me away, advising me to add my middle name to the transfer account. I promptly called him a nasty name, advised him to go someplace unpleasant and stormed out. Not proud of myself but, after a whole day of craziness and idiotic excuses, I lost it.

Immediately after getting home, I called my husband and let loose-- re-telling the whole story and including every expletive known to man. He obligingly went to the local office and added my middle name so I could try again the next day. Long story short, I finally got money but it was a battle. Having to struggle for every single thing is easily my least favorite part of life in Brazil. By comparison, the U.S. seems so efficient, customer-friendly and reliable. No country is perfect, of course, but these last few weeks have been a crash course in Brazilian imperfections.

The honeymoon phase of my relationship with this country has undoubtedly ended. I'm having a hard time remembering all the things that I love about it. Surely, over time, I will come back around but, for now, I'm working through all the "tough love" I've been dealt. Intellectually, I already knew all these things about Brazil and Latin America-- the intricate bureaucracy, the dog-eat-dog mentality and rough and tumble nature of city life here.

That's the most annoying part, I think. I walked into the party knowing who would be there and yet was still surprised when I was right! If anything, these experiences have re-inforced my belief that all academics-- or anyone with a genuine interest in understanding another culture-- needs to physically live in it. It's easy to read in a book that Latin America has suffered and continually suffers from a lack of infrastructure and rampant legal impunity. It's entirely different to drive on streets with massive potholes that will never be fixed or to get your purse stolen and have no legal recourse whatsoever. When you FEEL these things personally, they aren't easily forgotten. Lesson learned. Now, I just need to re-learn the beauty of the way things are here. It's not impossible but will surely take a bit longer than before. And, of course, it could always be worse (knock on wood).

Until next time...