Reasons to Shave My Head Pt II: Observations & Reflections

It has been approximately four months since I cut off ten (or so) inches of wavy, brown, relaxed femininity, and it has been about two days since I cut off three inches of erect, aggressive, unfamiliar attention. Of course, by the former, "femininitiy," I mean the head of hair I arrived in Chile with, and by the latter, "attention," I mean the unexpected mohawk (or was it a faux-hawk?) that came into the picture months later. Though it may seem silly, I've already noticed several changes in peoples reactions to me as a human being. Please note, however, that I do not really know what people are truly thinking about my appearance. I only draw conclusions based on social ques.

Not long after adopting the mohawk look in November of 2009, I had already begun to notice significant differences in the way I was treated. In Santiago, people still stared at me, but the looks seemed to change ever so slightly. Men on the metro wouldn't look wide eyed, for what felt like minutes at a time. Strangers wouldn't half smile at my friendly brown face. Instead, people would look, and quickly avert their eyes as if they were scared that I might catch them. Only children, and people my age had the courage to point and say, "rock and roll!" or, "hey, I like your hair." In my daily exchanges with vendors, I felt as though they were slightly intimidated by me. It soon became clear that my aggressive hair style amplified my assertions. I found this amusing, because I have never been treated like an aggressive person. It's empowering.

New York City was a bit of a different story. I certainly got looks (though they were subtle) but I also got a lot more compliments from strangers. Most of these strangers were men - black men. I found their attention fascinating. "That's a cool hair style" or "I like that look" always came in a complimentary, and friendly tone. This is the same (or similar) demographic that - nine months prior - would have said things like "Hey ma, how you doin'?" and certainly not in a friendly tone. It was more like the intonation one would use to speak to someone that one found sexually attractive. Do I know that the black guys who complimented me on my hair would be the same black guys who would holler at me in the street? No, of course not. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they were a completely different mix of people. We'll never know. Point is, I felt like men, and people in general, treated me as a gender neutral character. Which, in some circles, was seen as really cool, and in others it meant that men talked to me more like a friend, and less like a docile creature with a vagina.

Back in Chile, after two months vacation in NYC, and still with the mohawk, I became hyper aware of the ways in which people looked at me. I told my mother that it felt as though people were thinking "where is she from? What is she doing here?" "What a horrible hair style" "How could she look like that?" or "Wow a black punk!" My wonderful mother (who also happens to work as a therapist) reminded me that I was just projecting my own thoughts on to these strangers. So I confronted my projections, and didn't allow my appearance to take over my looking glass self. I really have had to toughen up in the last few months because standing out can be very disarming.

Now I am newly disarmed: I've chucked the mohawk and have a short little Afro. My host mom said that I look more like a little girl, but pretty (which she never said with the other look), and the old man at the kiosk on the corner said that I look prettier now than I did before. What is most interesting, is the male response on the street. I think I've gotten more whistles and whatnot in the last two days than I did in the last four months. And that's really only a slight exaggeration. I feel as though I've reentered the realm of sexualization - and it's good to be back (I'm only partly joking. Or am I? ...What do you think?)

It's hilarious how much three, or five, or ten inches of dead follicles can do. I went from an average, feminine looking girl, to an aggressive, cool, rock and roll kid, to a, perhaps, slightly edgy, vaguely attractive female. It's been quite the ride. I never thought I'd be brave enough to take it. What I find most exciting is that my external remodeling has not been a full reflection of my internal refinements. Though the two clearly affect each other, I enjoy their distinctions and my new found ability to appear as various caricatures, personalities, or stereotypes, and still feel like my complete self.

Dancing

In the last few days I have been anxiously deciding what I want to devote my time to this semester. Last semester I spent a large chunk of time staring at sociological texts in Spanish, wondering why I had so much trouble reading in my mother tongue. As I have learned in this study abroad adventure, reading, writing, and speaking are three very different aspects of a language. It is slightly astounding that I can speak so well, and read so poorly.

Anyway, this semester, I've decided to dedicate time to what my 14 years of private, progressive education taught me to dedicate time to: development of the self as a well rounded human being. And what this means for me at this point in my life, is refining my strengths and confronting my insecurities via physical activity, "life planning," and deeply studying my passions. Whether or not I accomplish these things is a whole different story. But the first step is trusting that I can develop my intellectual and spiritual self unconventionally. Am I making sense?

So, back to reality... today I did some wonderful physical activity in the form of salsa dancing. My fellow Tufts-in-Chile student, Ben, found this bar/club/thing that has salsa lessons twice a week, which is truly wonderful. I've always thought of myself as a pretty mediocre dancer, but I've learned a lot from dancing with Ben (who is a great dancer), from the teacher, and from watching the masters. The best part is that I feel quite comfortable (even though the teacher is super intense), and Ben is a really fun dance partner. Unfortunately, dancing can be more than just fun, especially with older men. Why men who are obviously over 40 think that I am of appropriate dating age is...interesting. Since they are clearly my only prospects, I'll soon be marrying rich and you can all come live with me in Dubai.

Summer Time (and the livin ain't easy)

What is it like to be back? Many people, myself included, have asked this question in the last few days. Well, for starters, I was eager to return to Santiago in early to mid February, when most of my friends were gone, my family was getting ready to move to New Jersey, and the North East winter was getting to my bones. Just the thought of returning to a hot summer excited my frozen feet. As I've written, I was in Santiago for one full day before taking off for Peru. In my pre-semester travels my friends and I learned about the earthquake, and were forced to prolong our journey. Though I had fun, I was tired of eating at restaurants with the same menus, and anxious to eat Alejandra's good ol' home cooking.
This has actually been one of the nicest parts about being back in Santiago. I have gotten over my desire to eat every snack that I see on the street, and I don't really enjoy Chilean restaurant food as much as I would like. This is ultimately a win-win situation because I usually end up eating at home, knowing that the food will be tasty and healthy, and I save some money (and kilos) as well. It's also nice to spend more time with Alejandra, for I've become a lot more comfortable in her home.

Another thing I enjoy about being back here is that I know what to expect when I leave the house. I know how and where to stand on the bus so that I'm not in the way, or falling all over the place; I know when it is time to get on the overcrowded metro, and that even if my entire body is pressed up against another person, they will not be offended or sexually harassed, and vice versa; I know how to direct the taxi drivers to my house late at night; I know that plenty of people will give me the most transparent looks I've ever gotten from strangers - looks that an actor would only find appropriate for the stage, leaving subtly for the camera; and I know what to wear, how to carry myself, and how to speak when I want to fit in like a Latin American or stand out like the gringa that I am.

One obvious new thing about Santiago is the earthquake aftermath. Yesterday, I went to the Universidad Catolica party for extranjeros. To enter the Choripanada (Choripan = piece of bread with a big sausage stuffed in it) we had to donate a non perishable food item and a hygiene item for the victims of the earthquake in the south. It is common to see news, commercials, and campaigns that discuss the earthquake and its victims. In addition to seeing the healing process, I have literally felt the aftermath of the quake.
Since arriving in Santiago, there have been a number of aftershocks ranging from a scale of 5.0 - 6.9. Today we felt two strong quakes that forced Alejandra and I to leave the apartment only to see other families standing in the hallway. One scared young boy came down stairs and cried, "Es un terremoto?" His worried voice reminded me of the fearful memory that these smaller aftershocks bring up for many people who felt the first big one.
To me, the tremors feel like the New York City subway passing beneath an old building. They don't really scare me, but rather, awaken a deep respect and awe that I have for nature. It truly fascinates me that I can actually feel our plant move. Like the horrifyingly beautiful power of the ocean, I become intrigued, worried, and excited by the uncontrollable strength of the only home that all human beings share. It feels as unifying as it does terrifying, awakening a wonderful mix of emotions that help me understand why people would create the concept of god.

And so to all of us who share this earth, assalumu alaikum.

Hello March

There seems to be too much to say about the last... month? I don't know where to begin, so here's a short list of some things that have happened:

1. After fully (or mostly) adjusting back to the United States, to being in New York City, to the freezing cold, to living at home, and to seeing my lovely NYC friends, my family moved to New Jersey. Now, this happened only two days before it was time for me to leave for Chile, so I didn't have to do much adjusting to the Jersey ways. I do, however, feel completely uprooted. New York City is one of the few 'things' that I really identify with, and I no longer have a permanent address there. Sad as this sounds, I think that I've secretly wished for this for a long time. As someone who's identity has become 'not knowing who you are,' parting ways with anything reminiscent of your 'true self' has become a sport, for it seems like the perfect way to 'figure yourself out.' And so I am freed yet again.

2. I turned twenty (one) and I already miss the days of not being to drink or rent cars in the good old US of A. I really never understood the excitement around turning 21. Things get better, but they also get worse, so what's the rush? My birthday was spent consuming way too much sugar, eating delicious Cuban food, and relaxing with my family.

3. Back to Chile! By February 16th I was ready to go back to the Southern hemisphere, but more importantly, the SUMMER. It was snowing when I left, and about 26 degrees centigrade when I arrived. I spent one day with my wonderful friend Mim before I went to Peru and she went back to Australia. Parting was difficult but well anticipated. We said goodbye to Mim, and then Ben, Christy, and I boarded our flight to the Arica, the town closest to the Peru/Chile boarder. Minutes after sitting in my aisle seat, I pulled out my notebook and began writing. I wrote that my friendship with Mim had brought on a sense of inner peace. Though I thought this was somewhat out of character for me, I still felt that it was honest comment. Despite all of my anxiety, some reflective part of my being had found calmness in a situation that I thought would bring on fear. Perhaps the traveling has really gotten to me; taught me how to truly hold the time spent with people, rather than dwell on it in time spent apart.

4. Peru! Peru was wonderful. We spent a couple of days in Arequipa and a couple more days in Cusco. We went on all kinds of tours, went horseback riding (only to get caught in the rain), saw ruins (though Macchu Piccu was closed), saw protests, marveled at old buildings, bought stuff (typical), had what felt like a potential near death experience on an icy road in the Peruvian mountains (cheap bus + night time + ice + mountains + crying babies + car crash that holds you up for two hours in the middle of the night = slightly alarming), ate good foods, went dancing, etc.

Arequipa:


Yep, that's guinea pig (and rice and toast):


Cuscus:


protest:


5. San Pedro de Atacama. After I successfully made it out and back into Chile without some important documents (I feel like they let Americans do anything) we went to the Atacama desert in the North of Chile. On the morning of our arrival we received word of the earthquake in the south of Chile. Christy recently reminded me that we - instead of immediately contacting our families - went on a tour of Valle de la Luna and waited until night time to inform people of our safety. My mom told me that many of my friends and family in the US were terribly worried - probably more worried than I have ever been about the earthquake situation here in Chile. I guess that's what happens when you aren't connect to global news. Fortunately, everyone that I know in Chile is safe - a little traumatized, but safe.
Still in San Pedro, the three of us went on some beautiful tours of the desert.

Desert:




6. Calama. After several emails back and forth with parents and Tufts administrators, Ben, Christy, and I were feeling reluctant about going back to Santiago as early as planned. We were not worried about going back, but, understandably, everyone else was. Either way, we were planning to fly out of Calama, a small city near San Pedro with a lot of miners. We immediately went to the LAN Chile office and asked about our flight. It was delayed until later in the week. So we checked ourselves into a little hotel and got comfortable. We were warned that there wasn't much to do in Calama and that it wasn't a safe city. Aside from being anxious to return to Santiago, I actually enjoyed relaxing in Calama. The three of us had some great conversations, did some reading, watched some fun movies, and drank lots of fruit juice.

7. I am now in the comfort of my temporary Chilean home. I have been enjoying Alejandra's cooking and the company of my fellow year long Tufts in Chile folk. Classes at the reserved and prestigious Universidad Catolica begin on Monday, and classes at the wild and prestigious Universidad de Chile start the following Monday.