The Power of Vulnerability

This week I participated in a training initiative by Peace Corps Headquarters. The training was focused on inclusion and diversity and how our staff could do more to support our diverse volunteers.

I got to share a part of myself that I've had to hide in Armenia - a part of myself that includes a certain amount of risk here. Myself and 5 other volunteers were selected to share with all of PC Armenia staff, from custodians to drivers to the three American staff who head our post.

This was a moment of intense vulnerability for me. As I was facing this large group of people, the vast majority of whom come from a culture where people like me live in fear, I decided to hold nothing back. I shared, I opened myself up to questions, I allowed for misunderstanding, and gave my fellow Peace Corps Armenia people space to learn and be a bit vulnerable themselves.

My 5 fellow volunteers shared just as much of themselves. They talked about the experiences they've had in a country that is 98% homogeneous. I am white. I am the whitest of white. My ancestors include a spattering mix of European nationalities, all of which have their own specialized history of racism and prejudice. Sadly, I am what most of the world and especially Armenia see when they think "America." I don't have to defend my nationality, disclose my ethnicity, or ever answer the question, "Where are you REALLY from?" Hearing the intense experiences many of my fellow PCV's go through just because they don't fit this pasty, inauthentic view of America was a humbling and ghastly experience to say the least. Add to that the context of what's happening in our home country right now, and I was literally speechless at the vulnerability and enduring strength I got to see from my friends. 

(I really, really want to include a side-rant here about people who believe Americans with diverse heritage, latinx Americans, and black Americans are somehow "less American", especially since I see diverse PCVs selflessly representing the best of America every day, especially since they go through more tribulation and challenges overseas because they face this view not only in their home country, but also in many places abroad, especially since they face all of this CONSTANTLY, with no reprieve, and still freely give of themselves to increase trust and understanding across the world... But I'll avoid the full-on rant and leave it at this brief comment.)

This conference had a huge impact on me for multiple reasons. Firstly, I'm so happy that an organization I believe in is making strides to be better at producing equity and providing resources to those who need it. I also felt closer to those five other volunteers in this past week than I can properly describe. We all shared a deep part of ourselves with each other - our weakest and our strongest moments. That in itself made this week invaluable. The last reason is in our vulnerability, our PC Armenia staff was able to see beyond cultural differences, beyond what they don't understand, and just see people.

I think the best of Armenia comes out in its seeing of people. Do you owe money? No problem, I see you as a person and understand you're struggling. Do you need a break? Okay, I'll cover, I'm gonna need one soon, too. Does that tatik (grandma) need some extra time, extra help, extra space or an added stop for the hectic buses? No worries. The driver will wait, the younger people will give up their seats, the crowd will hold her bags, help her on and off, and the driver will stop where she needs. People care about people here.

So I feel I made an impact. Maybe that impact is really small in the long run, but many Armenians who object to who I am based off their culture, got to see a person - a kind of person most of them have never met before and definitely a person they haven't talked openly with. In exchange for my vulnerability, I received an overwhelming amount of support that I was in no way expecting. The amount of hugs and words like, "I want you to know I support you," was amazing. I really believe I even helped to move some minds a little further from fear and hate and a little closer to understanding. That, my friends, is the power of vulnerability.

Last note - PC Armenia knows the importance of being confidential with my identity. It is still important for me to keep certain parts of myself hidden from the population at large here. Please respect that in your comments, as this is a public blog. Thank you.

This feels insignificant right now, but here's a little update...

A week or so ago, my old boss and one of my best friends told me how much she missed working with me at camp this summer, and how much camp changed for her because I wasn't there. So many complex feelings ran through my head when I heard this. Part of me felt guilty for not figuring out how to more effectively prepare the person who took my job. A big part of me felt sad and mourned the first camp season in my entire life that I didn't get to see my revered peaceful place.  I am not too proud to admit that the part of me that selfishly wanted more responsibility at camp and never got it, was the tiniest bit comfortable with the fact that I was missed. 

I also yearned to see my friend and many other important people that I've never gone this long without seeing. I was perturbed with myself for not dedicating enough time to try to talk to my old staff this summer. I was frustrated with my lack of time, or maybe just time management, to talk to everyone I want to. However, I think the biggest feeling was this burdensome, inevitable sense of everything changing, substantially, outside of my control.

Since getting to Armenia, I have had so many conversations with people back home that I never would have imagined having in the past. I'm not sure what has prompted a lot of these changes, but I find myself saying things I wouldn't have said before. Maybe I am just missing home and feel like I need to remind people they matter to me. Maybe I'm being more open because it's more important now. Or maybe Armenia's blunt, straight-forward manner is changing me.

My friends are getting married. My family relationships are different. Old coworkers are moving on or getting promotions. Even my cat developed completely new habits. And I'm over here surprising people with changes of my own, not even realizing how it's all happening.

Tomorrow marks 5 months to the day since I jumped on a plane for the Peace Corps. This is also the first week that this new life I have has felt routine. For the first time, I've been waking up in the morning without having a small moment of wondering where I am and what I'm doing. I've been walking my 2.5 miles every day without thinking about what I miss at home or what I would be doing if I was there. I've been making decisions without thinking, "Okay Emily, you're in Armenia," before hand. 

Everything is changing, and Armenia is starting to feel like a home.

What a bittersweet feeling... I need this change in order to make it for the next 22 months. I like the fact that I don't feel like I'm constantly having system shocks anymore. In some ways though, I also don't want this change. I'm not Armenian, and there are so many things happening at home right now that remind me of that. Being overseas right now means I am the face of what's happening in America to a lot of people. There are so many questions every day about my opinions, and it is difficult to find the right answers. I don't want to give the wrong idea about America and I don't want to go on rants only about what America is to me, but I also want to have real conversations with the people I see every day. I'm sure finding the balance will be a process throughout the next two years, and maybe that new, cautious feeling would have helped me with this. It's too late for that now. I'm here for the long haul, and my brain has finally accepted that, whether I wanted it to or not.

So many times something happens and I think to myself, hey, you should write about that. Unfortunately, by the time I can actually sit down and write about something, the only thing I can think of is shutting my brain off and de-stressing. I hope I get better at making the time to write, so maybe next time you all can have some more substance instead of just my usual emotions explosion on a page. Until then, I'll try to keep my barely filtered brain-rants to a relatively short length at least. 

My final thoughts for today - feeling and noticing big, abstract changes as they are happening is a really weird sensation. Thanks for all of you who have stuck with me through them so far, and please feel free to enjoy part of this journey with me and make some changes on your own (and tell me about them!). It could be fun. I don't know if it's mostly good or bad yet, but at the very least, it's interesting.