Advice from my Grandma

For spring break, I went home to spend some time with my family.  In particular, I have been spending more time with my grandma, who has lived more than fifty years of her life in Vietnam before she fled with millions of other Vietnamese people.  Over the years, she has gone back to Vietnam twice.

Throughout the week, I have been getting some advice about my upcoming trip to Vietnam.  Be cautious when eating street food because you might get sick (strangely, my family sold street food too!).  Be sure to bring all your medicine because Vietnam probably will not have all the prescriptions I need.  Do not bring too much money with you in case that it gets stolen.  Make sure you travel with people you can trust.

But, here are some other things that she said: If see you see people having a hard time selling food on the street, give them a few dollars; it will really help them.  You should bring some American candy and chocolates with you, and give it to people.  They don’t have this kind of quality candy there and will be happy to receive some.  Are there any clothes that you don’t wear now that you can give to them?

All these things made me really think of the kind of privilege that I will have when I travel to Vietnam for my practice experience.  This conversation sounded a lot of like conversations that we have add in GPP 105.   My grandma was essentially telling me that when I go to Vietnam, I will be looked at as a person of privilege.  An American.  An outsider. 

And that’s okay.

I know that the advice that I got came from a place of love.  Be smart.  But, at the same time, do what you can.

Over her time in America, my grandma would send whatever she can every year (her social security) to her family and friends still in Vietnam.  She has definitely sent some of my old clothes, and every time she comes back from her trip to Vietnam, her suitcase is basically empty.  She has given it all to the people there.

And no, what she does will probably not resolve the problem of poverty in Vietnam.  There is always critique of giving people what they need creating dependency.  And maybe it is wrong to think of Vietnam as a place of need (because they should be accountable for their own welfare), but that does not mean that giving people something warm to wear is not helpful at the present time.

I admire the heart that my grandma has.  Honestly, I cannot imagine myself giving up all that I have to people I do not know.  But, I definitely hope that during this practice experience, I will learn to be a little more selfless and do the best that I can.

Going off on a little tangent, I would like to share a video from the World Bank on poverty in Vietnam:

Is There Responsibility in Photography ?

Recently, I have become made aware of a trend of poverty related photography collections. There are layers to the discomfort I feel when it comes to this sort of photography. First, I believe that the individuals being depicted are being exploited for the opportunistic motives of fame, money, or etc. on behalf of the photographer. In addition to the exploitation of the subjects in the photos, many times the excruciating photos stir up emotions and yet do nothing to help this individuals whatsoever.  The only way collection serves any efforts to uplift these individuals from their place in poverty is by making others aware of that their extent of poverty exists.

Furthermore, capturing images of poverty is not a new element of photography. However, in previous years many time the photographer capturing the images was a by product of the surrounding community when it was in the United States. Today, there has been a new trend for what has been coined by some as "white-guy photography." No, this does not just mean that a white man is the photographer. Instead, "white guy photography," refers to the tendency for white individual leaving their life of privilege to move to/ or visit those impoverished areas only to capture these images. While I understand capturing images from a trip or practice experience from another country, I don't know if I support the for-profit use of these exploitive photos. Many times, I have come across the biographies of photographers or summaries about how the poverty image collections come to fruition and all of these "white guy photography" collections have almost identical descriptions. Many of these collections start off as an after affect from a "white guy," leaving his happily content life of well-paying employment for some reason or another to find "his calling" and ends up in photography telling someone else's story, for their own personal benefit.

My concern in this is the lack of assistance these collections gives back to the subjects of the pictures, the poor. This is where the exploitation comes into play. While the photographers are doing their part in making the greater public aware that such depths of poverty exist, the lack of any action plan affiliated with helping the subject is disheartening. I do admit that spreading awareness of this poverty is beneficial, since there are some individuals that would never see it otherwise. However, I am not convinced that their work is sufficient. I understand the social documentary aspect, but I just think that in this day and age that incorporating some sort of assistance is more than possible. Maybe I am expecting a bit much?


I found an interesting article that elaborates on the power of photography to change our views on poverty:

PHOTOGRAPHY CHANGES OUR AWARENESS OF POVERTY


Below are three examples:

Humans of New York Project
A Citigroup Trader Took These Pictures Of New York Prostitutes
East NY and Brownsville

Mindy Budgor, Rich American Woman, Becomes Maasai’s First Woman Warrior

Thirty three-year-old, Caucasian, middleclass Mindy Budgor is the first female Maasai warrior, marking a historic moment in Africa and beyond on her own! She’s even written a book about her exhausting, yet inspiring experience called, “Warrior Princess: My Quest to Become the First Female Maasai Warrior,” which was published in late 2013 that doesn't at all reek of imperialism, privilege, or cultural incompetency. She hadn't always set out to be a Maasai warrior. After attending undergrad at the University of Chicago, building and selling a business, and getting a job that “kept me in Gucci,” then 27-year-old Budgor was ready to find herself. Realizing that all of the glitz and glamour her life consisted of was not all the world had to offer, she set out to find a purpose and a meaning to her life. Unlike many other Americans, she discovered that there could be no better way to accomplish this then head over to Africa to help build a health clinic there. Budgor found herself in the Maasai Mara, a reserve in southwestern Kenya, where the Maasai people lived.

The Maasai consist of semi-nomadic tribes who live in Kenya and Tanzania who began migrating South from Northwest Kenya in the 15^th century. The Maasai have many rites of passage and ceremonies, including circumcision and emanyatta, where a man might live for up to ten years learning how to be a morran (warrior). In her Today Show interview, Budgor recounts a conversation with a Maasai warrior and is baffled when he asserts that women are not strong enough or brave enough to be warriors. She then comments to her interviewers, “Gosh, I’ve got to fly around the world to hear the same thing again?” Although similar patriarchal behavior has been heavily demonstrated in Budgor’s own nation, it seemed fitting that she prove men wrong in a completely different country and become Maasai’s first woman warrior by flying back to her home in the States, training for six weeks to prepare herself to be a warrior, and then flying back to Kenya. 

Returning to Kenya, Budgor showed even more courage and grit than ever before in the face of huge obstacles. Budgor was told no by a local chief with whom she had worked during her stint with the health clinic. Budgor did not know the local language and needed a translator during the entire duration of her stay. Budgor wanted to change centuries of tradition by participating in a sacred rite of passage that women have never been allowed into. Moreover, she needed to be the mouthpiece for all Maasai women and change the status quo and show the Maasai men and women that women were equal to men (but that neither were equal to Americans). Somehow, despite these numerous red warning flags, Budgor succeeded and had a Maasai warrior lead her through the rite of passage—shortened from three to seven years to a grueling two and a half months. She recounts all of these difficulties, saying that she could bring “nothing but the bare essentials” which included “a bottle of Chanel Dragon red nail polish and a set of pearl earrings.” World renowned media sources such as Glamour magazine have featured excerpts of Budgor’s memoir in their publications. Although the journey was difficult, Budgor says that during the experience, “I felt beautiful. I felt strong. I felt proud.” The experience was certainly empowering for Budgor, though whether or not that feeling is shared with the rest of the Maasai people remains a mystery.

Later, when asked about what advice she would give to readers, she says, “Dig deep. Find your passion. Never let no get in your way. If you hit a roadblock, bulldoze it.”

Whether that roadblock is not having your Chanel Dragon red nail polish during a hunting trip in Kenya or having to change the longstanding traditions of a tribal community to prove a point, without hesitation or thought of consequence, you should always overcome it.

Because who knows? Maybe you, too, are the next female warrior.

Read the Glamour excerpt of Mindy’s book here:

http://www.glamour.com/inspired/2013/09/meet-mindy-budgor-the-worlds-first-female-maasai-warrior?currentPage=1

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Sidenote: While I will not be going abroad, I saw Mindy’s book and the huge response to it, both good and bad, as something really interesting and relevant for us to discuss, especially in addressing our roles as volunteers. Although we may see Mindy’s actions as thoughtless, self-aggrandizing, and completely oblivious to the culture and people that she was “immersing” herself in, I believe that Mindy had good intentions about what she was trying to do. We all have good intentions, too, and maybe without having gone to Berkeley or taken GPP 115 I could’ve done the same thing. And if we can learn anything from Mindy—though it might not be the message that she was trying to get across—it might be that we need more than good intentions, whether that is trying to understand those who you will be working with or being conscious of your own background and privilege.