V6 - THINGS WE DO TO EACHOTHER, By Lucy Sung

Things We Do To Each Other
By Lucy Sung

Peace Corps‘ no-fee passport application in hand, I skipped up the steps of the federal building that housed the post office with passport services. Before I went through the doors, I asked the security guard a simple question to confirm if I had the right place.

"Do you know if the post office here has passport services?"

"Are you applying for an American passport or international passport?"

"What?"

"You can‘t do international passports here. You gotta go somewhere else."

"I‘m an American citizen, you naïve, assuming moron. I can‘t believe I‘m about to join a federal agency that represents Americans to foreigners even though there are fools like you."

Well, I wished that‘s what I said. As soon as the word "citizen" left my mouth, I was allowed inside the building, where I found myself feeling confused, angry, and quite frankly, sad.

Now in Rwanda, I find myself explaining to other people not who I am, but what I am. America is already a foreign concept to many people. When I tell Rwandans that I -- in my brown eyed, black hair, round face glory – too, am an American, I blow their minds. I wish I could take their reaction as a compliment, but I cannot with the barrage of words that usually follow.

"Nooo! You are CHINA! Look at your eyes!"

"You lie! She lies!"

Having your identity invalidated hurts. It stings, like pili pili in your eyes.
Of course, not everyone starts to chant "China!" or "Japan!" when they see me. Sometimes, they furrow their eyes in deep concentration before saying, "I think you are Chinese." Occasionally there is someone who says, "I think you are Korean," to which I give a high five (for knowing the country) before going into my spiel. "My parents are South Korean, I was born in American so I have American citizenship. Do you know Peace Corps?..."

Mimi, a fellow Asian American PCV, also experiences similar annoyances: people on the buses do not believe you, they call you "liar," and they continue to harass. Mimi found that it took other PCVs, who happened to be white, to confirm that she is American. "Only then Rwandans would nod and agree. But you can still see they are not completely convinced."

Recently, President Obama released his long-form birth certificate to stop allegations that he is not a U.S. born citizen. I feel like I need my birth certificate and a world map by my side just to make things easier, to make things make sense to those who do not understand. But I am not a machine. I get tired, fed up, and the goals of the Peace Corps take a backseat. I cannot stay angry long, for these unfortunate interactions happen everywhere. I hate speaking so slowly with my students. It is necessary, but it echoes painfully close to the cashiers, landlords, and neighbors who enunciated each word in growing volume to my mother because she spoke English with an accent.

I‘m still trying to mediate my thoughts on how race and my role as a PCV play out. I cringed when I overheard a PCV saying, "We volunteers are all Americans; we are all the same." The beauty of America is that we‘re not all the same – throw away the old school "melting pot" theory. We are a mixed salad with croutons scattered throughout.

"Whatever you do, don‘t engage in discussions on ethnicity."

Over and over again during our trainings, we were reminded by PC staff not to discuss ethnicity with Rwandans. Understandably so – the scars of the genocide still mar our communities as proven by the stories, reburials, and tears shed during Genocide Memorial Week. The abaturage at my site tiptoe around the words "hamburgers" and "tootsie rolls" as if the military will jump out of the bushes and take you away. Putting labels or being put in a label can be dangerous. I am plagued by a question with no clear answer: how can I continue the conversation on diversity in America while avoiding a Rwandan bringing up their past divisions of Hutus, Tutsis, and Twa? How can I talk about being a Korean American (not Korean in America) without it sounding similar to a Rwandan who is Tutsi or Hutu? The ethnic relations are too deeply rooted for me to even try. 
 
It is a challenge that demands being open-minded, understanding, and most of all, respectful. In a country still recovering from the genocide and getting their exposure to other countries through kung fu movies, I must ihangane – be patient. I must remember that no matter how much I master the language, or perfect the cultural expectations of someone my age and gender, I am an outsider. I can only be myself and represent myself. The person who calls me umuzungu or umushinwa does not mean the next person will call me the same. Instead, I focus on the opportunities to share stories and find the similarities that don‘t make us so different from each other.