A Lesson in Patience
Two weeks ago, I had an illuminating conversation with two of the younger members of our workspace about their childhoods, their futures and their dreams (though I should add that the language barrier sometimes made this conversation more farce than philosophy). It was jolting to realize that—despite being so close in age to these two young women—our plans and priorities were so different. I’ve always known about the large cultural divide between my experiences and expectations and those of young women in many other parts of the world, yet seeing it firsthand made it all the more jarring.
Both women told me that they would probably have arranged marriages within a year and children within a few more. When I brought up love marriages, they protested the idea (and perhaps I’ve watched too many Bollywood movies, but I was honestly surprised by the vehemence of their protest).
When I asked about what they wished they could do, both told me that if there weren’t any barriers (both familial and cultural), they would move to the city and find jobs there. Even within this lofty dream, they aspired to be phone operators and tailors, and when I brought up going to college or working in a government/ higher-paying job, both simply laughed. It’s not that a government or high-salary job is the be-all-end-all for everybody, it’s simply saddening to see that both girls seemed to think that they could only dream of marrying software engineers rather than becoming ones themselves.
I had originally planned to post just the first part of this blog entry, but something about it felt unfinished to me. I’ve had this post sitting on my computer as I’ve tried to process what’s been so unsettling about it for me that I couldn’t publish it. I’m glad that I waited, as I realize that the first half of this post is incredibly pessimistic and short-sighted. This conversation and my reaction to it is a microcosm for a problem that affects many people who work in social justice programs, especially those in developing countries: the difficulty of negotiating one’s expectations with the reality in these areas. Living in Kodaghalli and getting to know the local men and women for the past two weeks has slowly helped me understand just how big of a step it was for these two young women to even want to leave their village and find jobs away from their families. That does not mean that I necessarily recommend lowering expectations—I will continue to emphasize the necessity of a college education to as many of my students as I can, as it can be a key factor in upward mobility—so much as placing them in context. Going to college or finding jobs outside of their village may not yet be an option for these young women, but the fact that they’re even discussing it means that new norms and goals are already being established in the village; this, in turn, will lay a foundation for other young women to venture out of Kodaghalli and perhaps even bring back some of the skills that they have learned. It may take years, but norms are changing, which is perhaps the most difficult-to-achieve but lasting impact I feel Ubuntu can have.
