Journal, March 25

Usually in my bi-weekly reflections, I focus on a specific experience – an event that I attended, or a project that I worked on. But for my last bi-weekly report, I would instead like to focus on an important undercurrent of all of my experiences here in Peru: privilege. Privilege can be defined as an unearned advantage that one has as a result of being identified with a certain group. From the opportunity to come to Peru and work at CEDEMUNEP in the first place, to the opportunity to leave and take up a new cause at the end of my internship in April, I have experienced a cornucopia of privileges this year as a result of being a white, heterosexual, able-bodied, dual Canadian and U.S. citizen who grew up in a functional, educated, middle class family in the Global North. Back at the University of Waterloo, where many of these categories were considered to be the norm, I did not so often think of myself in these terms. But in the context of my work at CEDEMUNEP, my privilege has been harder to ignore. The very goal of my work here—development—is deeply entwined with the social, economic, and cultural ideals of privileged groups. And I have confronted daily the realities of black women living in poverty in a developing country—a quadruple disadvantage.

I do not exaggerate the plight of Afro-Peruvian women in order to victimize them; nor do I want to romanticize their lives and paint them as being happy despite their poverty.  They have great ambitions for their lives, families, and communities, and they are moving and shaking society with their powerfully strategic campaigns. Being honest about the enormity of their challenges makes their success all the more impressive.  It has been an honor and a privilege to work alongside them this year and support their vision for their people.

My social advantage has both helped and hindered this process.  It has definitely hindered personal interaction. I can recall countless awkward instances with my co-workers: pulling up to my gated community in a taxi, explaining that a hired cook made my food, hesitating to share my travel stories when I realized that they might never have the opportunity to visit these places in her own country. But more than creating a sense of awkwardness, my identification with different social groups and my resulting privilege have made it impossible for me to ever fully identify with their struggle. The failure or success of their movement has few direct implications for my life. However, I don’t think that this has to prevent us from working together. Who would say that the work of anti-discrimination is just for minorities?  Each and every one of us can work for change in our own spheres of influence, and I can certainly use my privilege to my advantage in this respect. However, I think my greater role is to help the women of CEDEMUNEP to expand their influence—not to “give voice to the voiceless,” but rather to help them find their voices (plural, because they are diverse), and amplify them! Perhaps Ivan Illich was right when he said that “the only thing you can legitimately volunteer for in Latin America might be voluntary powerlessness.” Humility might not win you any awards at an International Development conference, but it is what is desperately needed.

One of my principal questions going into this field placement was: “What does the concept of development mean to people in the Global South?” This is still a question, and it will continue to be until I have met each person in the “Global South.” But I’ve come to realize that, more important than holding all of the answers, is holding the question and remembering to let others lead their own development project, even when society would put me out front.