If I had been with a partner that I like, if I felt good with him.

Hey populace!
So, I know it’s been more than a month. A lot has happened here in Salvador, and other parts of Brazil, including me falling in love with it. In less of an exotifying way and more of a practical, I-had-to-learn-how-to-live-here way, with a dash of my-own-research helped. And my research project took up my life and is now 140 pages and not done in that I haven’t finished editing, but we’ll figure that out when I get back to the United States. So I’ll talk about the research that consumed my life and prevented me from writing here ample times, on to talking about movies, fun stuff in the apartment, apartment growth, things you should know about the world, the end of the program, and daddy time in the next post. Which is by far the most ridiculous and best time.
My research was originally on Common Factors between HIV infection and Teenage Pregnancy/Supporting Systems in Salvador, Brazil (in post You’re so IN LOVE!), which was to say that I wanted to research both HIV infection in teens and teenage pregnancy as a problem, along with partners of womyn and not just the womyn themselves that suffered HIV infection or teenage pregnancy. Basically, I wanted to be this revolutionary that finally spoke to the male perspective of these “problems” and did not base my research at all on womyn but rather on a holistic perspective of how these “problems” affect those in power, i.e. men, white people, rich people, and those who generally live a lot more stress-free than others. This stemmed from an old-time view I hold that, in order to change things, you have to appeal to those in power so that they can change societal structure enough to help the situations of those who have no power. Aside from the problem of this creating a dichotomy that’s far too clear-cut in who has power and who doesn’t (in reality, it’s a gradation scale and the problem lies in the gap and not in the idea of “power” itself, becoming a popularly dirty word in public health when in reality it’s an assertion of existence and not inandofitself bad unless it hurts others), this idea is also problematic because those “in power” should not be the ones to help “those who have none.” In what universe should the rich pity the poor? This is an extension of charity, one of the main points of Paul Farmer in Pathologies of Power. Once we include charity in government as a regular function, we also stabilize and continuously fuel the idea that those less fortunate are simply “less fortunate” without rhyme or reason, and should be “helped” out of the “goodness of our hearts,” us being the ones who have more. Not only does that separate the condition of having less than one needs to survive from societal structure and problems that those who have enough to survive cause (i.e., how many people think that prostitution puts prostitutes in bad situations and is a lowly job therefore causing these situations, wherein prostitutes get beaten and sometimes raped and threatened for their lives? How many actually support the legalization of prostitution so that government can make regulations on prostitution and assure prostitutes pay, making us, the citizenry, more aware of their rights and consumers of prostitution treat prostitutes better, and allowing us to finally acknowledge that they have a job that’s credible and frequently taken advantage of and we should call them commercial sex workers? But I digress), but it also allows us (those with more “power”) to benefit by feeling high and mighty off of problems that we ourselves consistently cause by “donating to the poor.” Essentially, fuck that shit. Excuse my language.
What I did instead was radically change my research path to research HIV infection and Unwanted Pregnancy in Adolescent Females in Salvador, Brazil. This means that I intended not to study HIV infection or teenage pregnancy as problems because these are situations in adolescence that are very sensitive and mean many different things to womyn at all different ages, but especially when they are in adolescence, a time during which they are undergoing severe developmental changes that include the development of their ability to make decisions for themselves and learn their own sexuality and connection with their bodies as a relationship that allows them a larger amount of freedom as any other they previously have had in their lives. One’s sexuality should be an exercise of choice and pursuit of personal pleasure, not only physically and sexually through sexual actions but also through the joy of knowing one’s body and loving oneself for one’s sex, sexual desire, ability to choose what one wants through sex, and ability to make associations with others that are positive concerning one’s embodiment and awareness of one’s sexual desire and being. As the adolescent learns of this large new field of ideas through which to explore their own bodies, and learns to make decisions for themselves, now under a slightly looser grip of their parents’ and schools’ control, they make mistakes. Basically, they fuck up. And that’s okay, because that’s apart of the learning process. The problem is that parents don’t want that to happen and neither do schools, which makes sense because they don’t want adolescents to get HIV, or get pregnant, or get a number of STDs, but most importantly, get hurt. Sexuality can be very vulnerable and in the process of discovering oneself, one can get hurt through the mistakes they make, by partners, their own confusion and misunderstanding or lack of understanding of what they truly want in sexual interactions, and peers with strange and/or unhealthy ideals of sexuality which they feel they must follow in order to be liked and feel like they’re doing something right. So, what do parents and schools do? Use scare tactics and don’t teach adolescents anything. And what do adolescents do? Dumb shit. Think about what you did when you were 13-19. DUMB. SHIT. Most of the time unless you had comfortable, open conversation about sex. Even if you did have safer sex and used condoms /and birth control pills, you were more than likely to have done it out of fear. And how can you use condoms /and birth control pills out of an uninformed—rather, paralyzed—intent, and call that “safer” than feeling emotionally safe as well? You see the point. Dumb. Shit.
Basically, HIV and unwanted pregnancy, in the process of all of this, can seem like the end of one’s life which hasn’t gotten a lot of fuel going yet also (adolescence is only the beginning to a big, beautiful life, obvi); a blessing in disguise as pregnancy can yield a kid and maybe you suppose that that wouldn’t be the end of your life or maybe, as one interviewee told me, her act straightened up big time when she found out she got HIV at the age of 19 and now she feels much healthier; or something in-between. They’re not problems if you’re responsible upon reception of the news and lead the rest of your life not making the same mistakes. So I did not research HIV infection and pregnancy in adolescence as problems. I researched them as situations that might be the result of a lack of holistically sexual health in late adolescents. Oh, yeah. I also only studied female adolescents, ages 15-19 in whom either unwanted pregnancy or HIV infection occurred.
How did I research? Awkwardly. Since I had been shadowing at that clinic in Santo Antonio de Jesus (in post Her family didn’t know she was a gay.), it was a swift transition into awkward ethical situations wherein I haphazardly had an introduction into peoples’ most intimate, confusing parts of their lives, told them my name, whipped out a tape recorder, and nervously stumbled out onto my little-known Portuguese in order to both take narratives (the first half of my interviews) and Q&A (the second half). It was especially awkward because my advisor was the womyn who had given a presentation with bad acoustics and in a sweaty room to my ridiculous group of students in this program that wasn’t a program (i.e., SIT), and she’s nice, but had nothing to do and has never really done anything with SIT except for give them sweaty, straight-forward presentations on what she does, which is lead everything at IBCM (Instituto Benficiente Conceição Macedo), an NGO that helps families living with HIV or AIDS and offers the daycare center to the kids, either with or without but living with family members who have HIV or AIDS, that made me really confused before (in post Breakdowns and Rescue Songs). She got paid by SIT to see me for two weeks and do the following: push me out into the waiting area of the center, where the secretary, Paula, who kind of hated me because she thought I could not speak any language and was dumb and confused, would either ask “Voce tem quantos meses? E quantos anos?” (You’re how many months along? And how old are you?) or “Quando voce decobriu?” (When did you discover [you had HIV/AIDS]?) And after that, she would turn to me and go, “Perfeito! Va e entreviste!” (Perfect, huh? Go and interview [them]!) Hence started the most effing awkward interviews of my life.
I asked questions ranging from those probing at individual circumstance and personal life, like questions about body image, past sexual relationship and questions about their safety, and personal narrative, to more general questions about whether or not they thought that female adolescents in Salvador were sexually healthy (4 of 6 said no) and what resources could help them be more healthy (ranging from more sexual health lectures and even better health campaigns than the ones that already run rampant in Salvador, to the most common and powerful suggestion that parents need to talk to their adolescents about sex more, regardless of the common shame they seem to have, influenced by both religion and, moreso, fear of their kids messing up and getting hurt). I wanted to do something that research really hasn’t done before in adolescents sexual health: ask the teens what they think. And not only ask them, but ask the ones who have been the most affected by their own sexual mistakes. Then, get a better view of their situations through narrative, and get to know if they’re negatively affected by violence that threatens both their general, and therefore, sexual wellbeing because they do not feel the capacity to defend themselves. Or they didn’t have the information that could have helped them not make a mistake. In the case of one womyn who I interviewed and was actually married and had planned her pregnancy, what she thought motivated her to make the early decision that she did to have a kid. I wanted to both know what they thought works against the informed sexual health of other female adolescents and then probe into what affected them through their stories. It was pretty amazing.
I interviewed 6 womyn. They had all been pregnant or were currently pregnant in late adolescence, 3 of them were currently pregnant, and the other 3 had been pregnant but also had either HIV or, in the case of one womyn who was 23, had had AIDS since birth from vertical transmission from her parents who both died of AIDS when she was 9. I interviewed one 16-yo who became pregnant despite using birth control pills just as prescribed (“they were too weak”), one 19-yo who became pregnant because she forgot to use a condom once with her long-time boyfriend and also forgot to use her birth control pills one or two days in a row (she’s had to move out of her house to resolve some of the tension her evangelical parents have over her early pregnancy outside of marriage), one 19-yo who’s married and planned her pregnancy (and is cocky about it); one 19-yo who has 2 children out of not using condoms and discovered she had HIV in pre-natal exams for the second (had first child at 12-yo and it was planned, weird interview); one 23-yo with 4 children who had AIDS from birth and has stopped using condoms with her current partner who does not know her status (lives in a shantytown and had her first child out of rape from her brother-in-law who would consistently beat her during her pregnancy and caused her to have the latest sexual debut of all of my interviewees, out of fear of further abuse); and one 24-yo with 2 children and HIV (did not plan either of her pregnancies and had condoms burst/did not use them and had unsupportive and at-times abusive partners, but is now married to a man who’s HIV-negative, takes her to her appointments for her condition and knows about it, and she believes that her HIV has saved her and was a “solution,” not a “problem.”) You can’t generalize these stories. They each speak to a different sexual identity shaped by external and internal factors that can give a lot of insight to public health peoples to better shape campaigning efforts and help womyn, through employment opportunities, more appreciation in society taught from birth for womyn, and more educational incentive, to both practice safer sex through their own right, responsibility, and ability, and be able to practice safer sex through better societal conditions and less relentless abusive partners or negative sexual situations.
If you want more information from me on all that, lemme know. My paper is DONE! I can send it to you. Hope that all made sense.
SO, how did that end up being 140 pages? Literature review, 40 pages. Research, circa 50. Extra BS for SIT, table of contents, etc., the rest. If you actually want to read it, I would love dedicated critique and advice. Lemme know at Akinyi_Shapiro@brown.edu or Hotrevolution@gmail.com, and I’ll send it to you. Both e-mails go to the same place and I check it pretty frequently and will respond.
I worked on my research for at least 3 hours at the beginning per day, up to 10 hours per day toward the end. And probably did irreparable damage to my back working at my laptop. As I am now. But it’s worth it to be connected to the real world.
Good things happened during research. And weird things. I’m pretty sure a worker at IBCM who would walk me back and forth from the center to the bus stop (it’s in a dangerous neighbourhood called Pernambues) had a little crush on me. And would speak to me in small-talk Portuguese because, like Paula, he thought I was a tad slow. Once he told me his name was “Jose” but people called him “Ze,” he told me I could shorten my name from “Akinyi” to “kin-YEE.” And I said that, “Yes, I could…but I won’t.” Another womyn who knew me from a large square in Pelourinho (in post First Post in Bahia!), would hold her breasts in front of our coworkers at the center and grasp them and talk about what big breasts I have and how it was because I am “American” and “the men like it here.” Do me a favour. If you’re American and reading this right now, grasp your breasts and be proud. This crazy womyn apparently thinks you’re all Pamela Anderson.
They also gave me lunch and the cook would always tell me that I should “just try” the meat. It is “so good.” It made me laugh so I didn’t want to punch anyone in the face. She was friendly.

During my research, I went crazy. I slowly evolved into a hunchback who would cook for herself and not go to the beach. Really, though. This hunchback went to the beach in view of her apartment window only 3 or so times. She jogged for about a week before giving up, which was along the beach, but no cigar. What did she do to entertain herself?
Before I got to into it, it was Miss Alex’s birthday. So the hunchback started making food for herself and Alex and occasionally others. What did I make? Everything from stir-fried vegetables with wonderful, garlicky pasta, to salads with cashews and good things, to vegetable curry (which she is now a master at), to amazing eggplant with rice, to learning how to prepare dried beans and rice (there’s a first time for everything), and various things with pumpkins and their seeds (pumpkin is quite cheap here and is a ridiculous word in Portuguese. I think it’s ‘Aborbora.’ Try saying it aloud. It’s silly).
And for Alex’s birthday, I bought a dress for myself for the first time in awhile and went shopping with her. And there were movies.
I saw 3 movies until the end of the program. The first was Deixa Ela Entrar (Let the Right One In, a Swedish movie with English subtitles, though I saw it with Portuguese subtitles). It’s a really frightening movie about a 12-yo boy who’s constantly bullied at school and make friends with a vampire his age who lives next-door. I can’t really tell you much more than that. You have to see it. But it’s really depressing. At least for me. First, I could understand most of the subtitles (GO PORTUGUESE!); second, a kid essentially throws his life away for acceptance. This was somewhat poignant as I went crazy in my program without Alex, trying to not seem like what I felt I seemed like to everyone else: a bitch who doesn’t see the “bright” side. Which I found out was bullshit. And that I’m not going to run off with some vampire because I get a little bullied. Maybe not that dramatic, but still.
The second was right after I finished my paper, in a drunken attempt to salvage some of my dignity and sanity. Dignity further lost to Lua Nova (New Moon, yes, Twilight, and yes, I liked it, so don’t make me bring it up again). There’s really nothing more to say to this than, it was a great movie to drain my mental energy into after non-stop thinking for a month and basically writing a thesis. I was far too tipsy. This was not good. The main characters began to look attractive after half an hour of me not thinking. And, snapping out of my drunken haze, I recognized my folly and could not stop. It was like a virus, a slow addiction grabbing my hypothalamus and pulling it into awful fiction where vampires don’t die in light but sparkle. I was pleased but hated myself at the same time. Don’t see it. Please, please, please, don’t see it. Also, movie was completely dubbed in Portuguese and came out really quickly after it did in the US (like 1 week later). I understood all of it, because interviews made my Portuguese really kick up. All of my program assistants and my academic director noticed, I think even more than they expected with all of us at the "beginners’" level. I felt special, but sad that it ended up with me understanding “New Moon.” Don’t see it, please.
The third and last was A Princesa e O Sapo (The Princess and the Frog). I saw it right after I presented my research to my group (joke), and the night was magical. With a margarita and French fries and fruit in my system, I ran to the movies only to find that it was also completely dubbed, including the songs, which also rhymed, and I could really understand it all. So, this movie was both problematic and really good. I haven’t read any reviews on it. But, I’d say, it’s important to me because I’m a black womyn and I finally have a black Disney princess. Still, if you’ve seen it (SPOILER! You will hate me if you haven’t seen it yet), let’s talk about some problems.
1. Even though I was trying to enjoy myself, man’s hair is straight. And not I-have-Native-American-blood-from-xyz-ancestor straight. I mean, the-makers-of-this-movie-made-other-black-characters-in-it-have-kinky-hair-but-not-the-prince-because-he’s-pretty straight. That’s both racist and ridiculous. Check out the picture if you don’t believe me.
Man’s hair is straight/white. Why does Tiana (the princess) have curly hair?
2. Um, voodoo and evil black men. This is problematic without me going further, but Disney, I know you don’t care about the exotification of black people. But really? Really?
3. Man is singing zippedee-doo-da when he’s gotten free from some white fishermen. First off, okay, minstrelsy wasn’t cool with Kenan and Kell and it’s not okay here. Stop it. Second, Song of the South? Really? You changed production of this movie so many times: from the name of the black princess being Maddy to Tiana, because “Maddy” souded too “slavish”; from her being a maid to a cook because her being a maid was too “racist” and “stereotypical”. And you have man singing Song of the South?

I’m just sayin’.
Otherwise, good movie. The ending song by Ne-Yo is legitimately gorgeous. The part where the second star joins the moon (you’ll see if you haven’t already) made me cry. You’ll like it. I do, though, have a sneaking suspicion that the movie was much more story-like in Portuguese, because I didn’t pick up on every single word and, just like a child, it painted a sweeping storyline for me which I joyously followed. On the whole, getting a movie poster for my room. On the specific, redrawing man’s hair so that he’s black.
What else did the hunchback do with her time when she could finally emerge from the shadows? She wore dressy clothes. For the first time in my life, I felt motivated in a workspace to wear semi-professional clothes, which, in Brazil, entails long pants (it’s hot, so take that in context), pretty shirts, and manners. Kini wore her manners. Along with that, I would hang my head out my window and look at something like this:
See that white apartment building peaking out of the trees? Yep, that’s me. And the air smelt like love every day. I really thank G-d that I had to write a thesis at the same time as I was living on the beach. Otherwise, the hunchback would have stayed in the shadows of her thesis for the rest of her life and never smiled again.
Aside from that, there were 2 restaurants that made my life meaningful. Tudo Azul (All Blue) and Fogo Azul (Blue flame). I think Tudo Azul came first. Anyways, both owners speak English, so SCORE. I had forgotten how incredibly reassuring it is to speak to someone with the confidence that you will be completely understood the first time. Saying something like, “Do you have mango juice?,” is far more exhilarating in Portuguese, but makes you feel far more stupid if you get it wrong. And at Fogo Azul, they would make me vegan eggplant Parmesan (remove the Parmesan, put in garlic, give Kini rice), which was amazing. They’re this really nice black couple, one from New York and the other from Los Angeles. And all of the black people who have ever spoken English in their entire lives go there if they’re in Salvador. It kind of gave off this soul-food-in-NY vibe that I’d been missing. And once, they gave me the “Awesome Customer Discount” of a free Caipirinha. They’re basically the Brazillian drink, and I was set on them for life. No, really. They met my father. Also, I met people there that I would really talk to. About nice things, like where they’re going, why they’re here, their life story, and everything else required in an introduction from The Iliad. I learned all this nice stuff about people and then we parted ways. It was really therapeutic because it was either them or my computer, and as much as I like macs, they don’t smile back at you.
It was at around the second week of my research that I discovered cuba libres and açaí. Cuba libres, for those of you that don’t know, are rum-and-cokes with 2 slices of lime. They are divine. And my saying, which started in Santo Antonio de Jesus, is that, by the end of the drink, you really want Cuba to be “libre.” Maybe it already is. But still, the crushing under the first lime slice of the proletariat under the second crushing of the bourgeoisie's imagination, that kind of thing can do something to you after an hour or so. There was also: açaí.
This is kind of like pinha, the fruit that I will forever enjoy for you when I’m in Brazil or other lovely tropical places (apparently called Custard Apple in English?). Açaí is the purple stuff with bananas on top of it and granola to its left just itching to jump inside of it. It’s cold, and kind of has the consistency of sorbet, except it’s so much more. It’s kind of like when it’s cold outside and your parents just got you a warm blanket, made you hot chocolate, are making you your favourite type of cookies and your favourite TV show comes on and they kiss you on your forehead and go, “Have I ever loved you so much? Here’s $50 for being you, kid.”
Açaí is good. It got serious. The womyn who was always working there got to know me. And I would have nervous breakdowns. Like, after my first interview, I came home after my hour-long busride each way, after having worked myself up incredibly for a womyn who was far nicer than she had to be with my Portuguese, and took off my pants. Both of my roommates were in the living room. One is a man. I took of my pants when they said hello and asked if one of them wanted to go to the beach. I didn’t say what happened. And then we made daiquiris. Because Kini had begun to go insane. The interviews were really stressful, not to mention transcribing 45 minute to 1.5 hour interviews in Portuguese. And after some, like the 16-yo who said that she hoped her partner would pull through and help her with her child but said she was afraid for the future, I just went home and cried. But first, I would get açaí. And the womyn who worked there would ask me what I wanted smiling. And I would say the afrodisiaco (aphrodisiac, with peanuts and cashews ground up and other wonderful things like guava juice). And she would save me again and again and again.
I also made people take me out on dates. Two, to be exact. My crazy friend Christina knew some girl named Jorgia from Couchsurfers. Couchsurfers, if you’re not in the know, is a network of people wherein you can stay on someone’s couch for free when you travel somewhere. It’s awesome. They don’t pay for your food or anything, but it’s an exchange that allows people to travel more easily and cheaply, which you should be able to do if you genuinely want to explore this wonderful world of ours. And you can host others in return at your own place. Look into it. They even have divisions for queer people. Doooo it. Anyways, I asked this Jorgia if we could meet up and was surprised that she had written to me in both English and Portuguese. She invited me to a party, which I nervously went to with one of my roommates, and, after talking to enough people, found out that the party was both a Christmas party (weird for Jew) and that nearly everyone spoke English at least as well as I speak Portuguese. Then, I found out that it was a present-swapping, Couchsurfer Christmas party. And that was weird. Everyone was too friendly and all about meeting people and small talk. But also free food. Which we gladly took and then, after an hour, waited outside for a bus for another half hour and let me experience what it’s like on a barren street to have people think that your male roommate is your pimp and you’re a sex worker. Over 5 times. At least the food was free.
On the other date, I got taken out by a Fulbright and a Fogarty scholar here in Salvador to Rio Vermelho. Again, they paid for my busfare there and taxi back, acarajé (a Bahian food, fried and wonderful), and over 20 large bottles of beer for us to share over 6 hours, from 8pm to 2am. The night before my paper was due. And they spoke English. Downside: the Fogarty scholar was pretty much the most unpleasant guy I’ve ever met and made me cry talking about politics. It was really bad. I felt uncomfortable after about 2 hours but the Fulbright was nice so I stayed. I just got pretty attacked for not having a solid political stance and being moderate, because I told the Fogarty to believe in what he wants to but with a wide perspective. Yes, I mocked him a bit. No, it wasn’t okay to end up cursing and yelling at me about how I “don’t know shit” and how, “If it was between China and the US, China’s fucked up, and I’d be a proud patriot behind the US any day.” Negative. And I dressed up all for naught. But whatevs, again, free food.
The other date I had in Salvador was with the Dia de Consciência Negra, a day on November 20 with extends to an entire week here in Brazil, totally dedicated to black “awareness.” It’s really interesting.
What’s interesting about the day of black awareness is that it’s commemorated on a day of commemoration for Zumbi. Zumbi was a former king in Angola before he was transported as a slave to Brazil and then, in Brazil, after dutch rule had just ended, he organized a slave revolt and got captured by the current ruling party, and was decapitated by them. Thus, the day of black awareness is poignantly celebrated on the same day as his murder by government. And it’s interesting, therefore that government officials come to speak.
I went with a roommate who had her project more specifically on black empowerment in Salvador, and heard a “Zumbi” chant starting from one of the blocos (celebration floats) that literally gave me shivers. It was strange. I wanted to take a night off from work and go see something miraculous, inspiring, hopeful for being black in a city that’s the largest black city outside of Lagos, Nigeria. Especially in a place where, though black people make up over 83% of the population, white people dominate all overseeing employment. I wanted to hear something to hope for and make me feel like apart of a community dedicated to something even more powerful than what we already are. But what I got was a drunken celebration of sorts with radio-morphed voices chanting ‘Zumbi’ and crowded streets harassing my roommate because of how pretty she is. Which is all fine. It’s just not black awareness and creativity.
We walked into a semi-speech area on the street and stood for about an hour in order to hear Lula, the president of Brazil speak about black awareness, after a problematic speech by the CEO of Petrobras (a big Middle Eastern company for gasoline that has essentially dominated gasoline and petroleum in Brazil) about the illegitimacy of the state of Israel in its politic decisions, though that’s another story for another time. Lula gave a fiery speech, passionately calling for the day when hopefully, though he cannot promise it within his term, black youth will be able to realistically aspire to be professionals, like doctors and dentists and lawyers some day. And how important it is to see awareness as the ability to observe the black lack of opportunity in Brazil, and, this year (the day speakers rotate each year) in Salvador, the black capital of Brazil. He pounded his hands on his podium and it was important that he was so animated. But, these were all ideals. I think it’s great that Lula is publicly conscious about black struggle and lack of opportunity, especially despite the fact that he is not black, but he’s a good enough politician to have done even more than he has already. He’s done Bolsa Familia, a program that essentially gives money to the poorest 11 million families in Brazil each month and allows them to either spend it on food and transport for their kids to school or save it up and start new businesses. Positives of his during his term is that he was a poor worker, thus representing that large social class in Brazil, he has already reached the UN goal of halving hunger by 2015 through programs such as Bolsa Familia that they’re already implementing in other places all around the world, including New York City, and their AIDS programs through SUS, their universal health care here, have kept AIDS prevalance rates at bay. But he could do more, and I refuse to accept the “we’re trying” excuse and rhetoric when he, as a well-founded politician, can do better than that. And I left the speech feeling really frustrated. Around me in the speech area, it also seemed evident. There were maybe 200 hundred people around me to hear their president speak. I’m not saying that Lula hasn’t done a lot and isn’t a good guy. I’m just saying that I left the speech thinking that some day, over the rainbow, I’ll have aesthetic standards of beauty in society that will somewhat match black faces in Brazil. And that’s simply. Not. Good enough.
In summation, I got through SIT by dedicating myself to my research, and I have to say, if you’re dedicated to doing research that you think will change something in this ridiculous world, SIT will give you a jump start on Grad school and help you find amazing contacts to help you do what you’re doing. As in, would not have been able to interview the people that I did in the United States without a formal IRB. I got a special one that SIT got for me. And I also wouldn’t have had the ease with which I did my project here. It really was relatively easy to collect the information that I did, and I feel like, in the case that I want to follow through with this research in the future, it would make sense based upon the amazing jump off that I got. Kudos to SIT on that. I just hated the coursework before because it was absolutely pointless. The reading helped me in my project, and seeing a survey of public health professionals who gave semi-lectures was interesting, but the majority of the time, I was left frustrated, upset, and sometimes appalled with their lack of ethics in what they felt license to show us (AIDS patients in hospital beds that we peak at through their slit windows? Really?) and some of the complete disconnectedness between lectures and what we’re supposedly reading. I hate the fact that I wasted my time for 2 months, but loved the Village Study and my research. Because for me, both of those things were relevant to what I am interested in in public health. Screw survey courses and weak language programs that don't properly place people in levels which they are actually at to begin with (my teacher actually called me "rude" to two students in my class, out of 4, after I made a polite suggestion about stepping up the pace in class for all of us)—you learn when you’re dedicated to your work. I’m happy I was dedicated. At the goodbye party, my host-mother, who I had had so many bad experiences with, cried when I left to pick up my daddy from the airport. The womyn who had given me such a hard time when I had not understood that I should bring a separate set of white clothing for the Candomble ceremony, who I ended up having made laugh at a joke and had thought that that was a big accomplishment, sobbed when she walked me out to the other assistant's car and told me to have a happy holidays. I ended up really making some fabulous friends and progress on this trip, despite its setbacks. Or being in some peoples' lives in a generally, more positive way than I had thought I would. I really am happy that I was dedicated and stuck it out in order to see the positives of it all: my program, my life, my social well being.
AND, things you should know about the world, as dictated by me, are to like your life and feel good about it. That’s kind of what I tried to do here and I think what I really took away from my time here. Because half way through, this program didn’t matter to me. My research did. This is where the title of this post comes from:
“Se foi com parceiro que eu gosto, se me sentei bem com ele” (If I had been with a partner that I like, if I felt good with him.)
The 23-yo with 4 kids, AIDS that she doesn’t disclose to anyone, and a partner who she told me would kill her if he found out that she had AIDS and gave him HIV, told me that it’s all about feeling good. And honestly, her life is far from spectacular. She may also frame her standards today off of her past rape and physical abuse. But she has found something that I believe is very important, and that’s the ability to recognize that your happiness comes first. She was the happiest person I interviewed, and despite any struggle I went through here, and any time I really wished I could leave this ridiculous “study abroad” format, I found that the only person that can truly make me happy is myself. I have to let other people more into my life. So I made myself some vegetable curry, went to the movies, and am now happy with my humongous paper. The key is to feel good.