How to Be A Part of the #BlackLivesMatter Movement While Serving Abroad… And Other Stuff

I haven’t blogged in a while for a number of reasons.

One. I lost my iPhone months ago and figured, who would want to see a Peace Corps blog with no pictures? My new phone works for the basics, but I’m not going to be able to document any awe-inspiring visuals of my new life any time soon.

Two. I really didn’t have anything I wanted to say. Yes, I have incredible day-to-day experiences with amazing people and have enjoyed this first month in my new home in my delightful village of Chicumbane. But, to be honest, I haven’t done anything. Yet…

This first month of Peace Corps at site has been (and will likely continue to be) purely a learning experience for me. I am learning language, culture, local hospital organization, my non-profit’s goals and more. I am not changing the world. I’m allowing Mozambique to shape me by paying attention as life reveals my calling and purpose as a volunteer.

Among the obvious challenges (no running water, being far from home and familiar things, missing loved ones, etc.), I’ve actually found the most difficult thing to cope with here being the racial crisis the United States is currently experiencing.

The deaths murders of both Philando Castile and Alton Sterling occurred during Phase 2 of my training period as a volunteer. During this time, we visited our sites for two and a half weeks and introduced ourselves to our new communities. Castile and Sterling’s murders hit me like a truck, and left me in my host family’s guest bedroom crying and following news on social media (my easiest and fastest medium for information these days) for a couple of days.

How could it be possible that things are getting worse? How could some people have the audacity to mock my community’s pain with #AllLivesMatter hashtags? How could I not be in Atlanta marching and protesting with my city?

I started two different blog posts on #BlackLivesMatter and never finished them. Just because I never felt I had anything to add to the conversation. Yes, we are angry. Yes, we are now speaking on things and making folks aware who may have never thought of police brutality and injustices about minorities a day in their lives. Not unless they were in a social studies class or watching Remember the Titans, that is.

But now that we are in a space where many more American citizens understand the current problem, when is it time to move on to the next stage?

The stage of action. The stage of protest, of fighting for our rights. Of collectively using our money to make a statement and to force the support of the people in power who can actually make the changes

How can I speak out on my rage and ideas for change all the way over here? I have a duty to focus and to be present here as a volunteer. I can’t lie in bed everyday a person of color person is shot dead. That would add up to a lot of sick days. And I definitely cannot organize and try to find solutions for back home. I’m not back home. I’m in Mozambique. This is my home now.

And so, I unintentionally started giving my contribution to the #BlackLivesMatter movement in the following ways:

1. I am honest about what it means to be a Black American

I had a really difficult time at first figuring out how to represent the Unites States as an American and a Black young woman. I didn’t want for my trauma and temporary emotions to begin to paint an ugly picture of the country of my birth. The country that allowed me the opportunity to even be here and have such life altering experiences. So, I am honest but fair. I indulge in the conversations with those who ask “Why does America hate Black people?” as truthfully as I can. I give historical context. I show photos of protests. And I point out that all colors and backgrounds appear in those photos.

2. I acknowledge and check my American Privilege

Being an African American in Mozambique is a blessing and a curse. I am ridiculed for being at a low language level here. If I look like you why can’t I talk like you, right? I am virtually ignored by Mozambicans whenever I am out and about with White volunteers; at least, until they find out I’m African American. And then, comes the privilege. I’m keenly aware of it, because I’ve never before known what it means to have privilege. But here, once my true identity is exposed, I get front seats on chapas (public transportation), personally escorted to places I ask directions to, am served food first at all communal events, etc. The list goes on and on. I feel like a guest who has outstayed her welcome, but is glad to let things stay the way they are little longer since I’m being fed and am pretty damn comfortable. As 14-year-old Royce Mann honestly stated in his poem White Boy Privilege, “Being privileged is awesome!”

3. Focus on the work of giving others the opportunity to rise

Now that we’ve acknowledged our privilege, what happens now? As said, I know both sides of the coin. White Privilege has become a buzz-word for liberals who want to sound socially aware and to give context for their empathy. However, me being aware is not enough. Now that I see how being a Black American girl is in fact going to get me ahead here, my job is to find ways in which those who are ignored, abused, and treated unjustly in Mozambique can be empowered. My job is to talk with the community leaders, find other young people with my same goals and interests in mind, and to do everything in our power to bring about equality for the young girls, women, disabled, elderly, poor, and uneducated who experience oppression in my new social reality.

I’ll say it again for clarification. I am not here to save the world. I have a lot of ideas and am waiting to learn my community more before I look into implementing them. I also still have several people to meet and connect with who will be the ones to continue these projects once I am gone. In the future I hope to share those projects and inspire someone else to find their strengths, creativity, and belief that they can catalyze change. We are all so capable to move beyond our social media protests. And, perhaps together, we can begin to change the world for real.