Brave

Last night I went with some friends to Bangalore’s first Tedx (https://www.ted.com/tedx). The videos of the speakers we watched were good and the discussion amongst the group wasn’t bad. But it took a little longer for me to really formulate thoughts on the ideas that were brought to my attention, and even a little longer for me to make them relatable to what I have experienced. This is sort of what I came up with:

            Before I actually took some flights and dipped out on US soil, back when I was working towards my goal of being able to afford a gap year, in guts and bucks, I spent a lot of time explaining to people what I was saving for, why I was going and that I would, eventually, end up in college. I got mixed responses on the whole idea, but when I mentioned where I was going the responses were generally the same. When I said Hawaii for three months it was usually along the lines of “Oh Hawaii! That’ll be so nice”. And then England to visit family was “Great that you get to see family!”. And then India. When I told people I was going to India the response I got was more or less like this: “India. Wow, that’s really brave”. And people would tell me I was being brave before I even told them what I was planning to do in India. I could have been a five-star hotel evaluator, or the guest of an oil tycoon, or staying with a wealthy friend on the beach in Goa. But when I said I was planning on spending three months in India, I’m pretty sure people’s thoughts strayed more towards starving children, or rape, or AIDS, or infectious disease control, or poverty, or poor waste management, or malaria, or gender discrimination or any other general third world problem. And people thought India and foreigner going to work there and they thought about those things. True, I am pretty unqualified to be a hotel tester or participate in multi-billion dollar non-renewable energy franchises, but I’m also pretty unqualified to be working with the people I work with now. The truth is that India is not just a place for Julia Roberts to find her spiritual awakening and enlightenment about eating and loving and praying or air-conditioned lobbies of ritzy buildings built on foreign capital. But neither is it only made up of starving, diseased masses with no running water who beat their wives. The truth is that India is a little bit of both those images, but mostly it’s so much more in between. So I want to reject a little of that bravery that I was apparently awarded just because it seemed like I was going somewhere that only brave folks stray to.

            I could say I was brave for taking a gap year, but that’s not really how I feel when I think about what I’ve been doing. I’ve been taking this year, because first and foremost, I wanted to. But I think the parts of this year where I really feel bravery was involved are probably pretty different from what you might expect. Three months in Hawaii, that bit, that sounds like paradise and relaxation and the full warm embrace of the aloha spirit. But Hawaii for me feels like a time where I’m most proud of myself for my courage. I showed up on that island a complete emotional wreck because I had just experienced what it’s really like to leave someone for the first time. I got to that paradise and that marked the time when all the talk and anticipation excitement for taking a gap year was going to be put to the test. When my convictions that I had made the right decision and didn’t want to go straight to college would be challenged in the highest court: real life. I had to face up to the parts of me that I wanted to change; I’ve never been that good at easing into situations and making friends with people my own age. I had to let go of my anal side, the OCD and just be in the mud and the chaos and the Aloha. And it was an amazing time, full of incredible experiences and really unusual and wonderful friends. But it wasn’t easy. And I had to grow up a lot. And be brave. But I didn’t just make leaps and conquer on my own; I couldn’t have been brave like I was without the love and support I got from Claire. So even when I feel I was bravest this year, I wasn’t alone.

            And so the expectation has been incongruent to the experience, even for me. India, though I’m only three weeks in, has been pretty, well, easy so far. I spent my first weekend with a family I know and am comfortable with. I moved into the Annex, where I have friends who live down the hall from me. And I work with these friends as well. I live in a closed campus, with trees and flowers and solar panels and waste management. I work on a laptop almost everyday. I have electricity in my room and hot water most of the time. I don’t drink from the tap but I collected a bunch of plastic bottles and I fill them up at a water filter 100 feet from my door. I’ve seen one cockroach in my room in comparison to the millions on Maui. And there are no cane spiders. I get up everyday and nearly everyone I engage with at work is someone I aspire to be like. I’m doing work that is so incredibly interesting to me that at 19 I can envision it becoming my career. And the what I’m interested in and feel strongly about isn’t neat and tidy and nice; really terrible things happen to women and it’s never fair and it’s never easy to stomach or to just put out of my head. And I have empathy and it makes me sad sometimes. But the people I’m learning from everyday, they inspire, and that’s enough to make it, a gift even, to be here.  I don’t like how sometimes I feel an invisible oppressive force bear down upon me when I walk around because I’m a young woman. I don’t like how I have to worry about being out at night or traveling alone. I don’t like how everyone is constantly trying to rip me off. I don’t like how I have to cover myself from ankle to wrist to neck if I don’t want to feel eyes following me. Honestly, I don’t like not having wifi. But what I don’t like weighs nothing in comparison to what I want. So being here, it hasn’t been that brave. It’s just what I want. Because third world doesn’t mean tragedy, death, disease and famine all the time. It means that someone somewhere decided that a nation had work to do before it could be like where they came from. So I didn’t come to India to ride painted elephants or bask in beautiful colors nor did I come to immerse myself in my guilt about my white privilege upbringing. I came because I was given an opportunity to be a part of something that I think is interesting and that I believe in. And if I’m lucky, I’ll see some elephants, get painted during Holi, become truly grateful for the resources I have, and learn anything the people and country have to teach me.