Seven Months Down, Twenty Left.

Disclaimer: Please read in its entirety. I am in no way bashing Peace Corps or my fellow volunteers.

Theme song of the post: “Life Boat” by Raye

   Life Boat.

Let’s just say life got a little out of control.

From my last post until now, I have been all over the place. So let’s start with when everything came to a head, no need for buildup here haha.

In March, we attended Reconnect Workshop, a space designed to “reconnect” not just with other volunteers and staff, but with your purpose; realigning on how to achieve your goals now that you’ve been at site, on your own, for three months.

It was the third-to-last day, and Peace Corps brought in a psychologist to give us coping and adjustment techniques. Within the first five minutes of her introduction, she looked around the room and said,

“I know being white in Lesotho is so hard, how are you guys doing?”

Keep in mind, there are five people of color in our cohort, three Black, one Korean, and one Brazilian. She acknowledged none of us.

I waited a moment, hoping she would say anything that acknowledged us too. She didn’t.

From that moment, I felt overlooked, again and let down by Peace Corps for not better protecting us.

As many of you know, in the last seven months, I’ve been grabbed, almost kissed (against my will), chased, followed, yelled at, catcalled, ignored in deference to white volunteers, simply disrespected and harassed in ways that make a volunteer choose to quit, and go home.

So in that moment, I looked around wondering if any of my white counterparts registered what I did. They didn’t.

And so I had to decide if I would stand alone. Would I wait to see if anyone else was uncomfortable? Did that even matter?

I decided that I could only speak for myself, and the facts of the matter are that I was uncomfortable. So I was decided.

I thought: I would stand alone. I’m telling Peace Corps about this, or I’m talking to the psychologist.

Turns out, I didn’t have to.

The session got cut short and postponed. The next day, when the training manager asked when we wanted to meet again, another Black volunteer raised her hand and voiced the exact same concern I had.

The concern of someone with a degree and a supposed skillset neglecting to acknowledge our struggles, our fears, our lived experiences as volunteers of color as she had done our counterparts.

How were we supposed to trust her “coping” skills if they were only tailored to her perceived audience?

The white volunteers.

No thank you.

And… that’s when the floodgates opened.

Suddenly, I was standing in front of staff and volunteers, verbally detailing the trauma I had endured, the fear I carry every day, and the anxiety I feel building.

Black women are told to be strong. Forced to be resilient. Made to feel unfavorable if we can’t carry the weight of the world.

I unknowingly brought that complex with me to Lesotho.

I hadn’t told Peace Corps about any of my experiences because I thought I would be a burden. A liability. That I wouldn’t be believed.

So I wore my strongest face, my best poker face.

And trust me, it’s infallible.

A face I wouldn’t even consider letting drop back in the States.

But there comes a time where we all have to lean on something.

And even if there is no one there, laying on the ground and letting the earth hold you up feels just as powerful.

I didn’t know if I would find someone to lean on.

But I fell anyway.

In a private meeting with staff, I broke down in tears, and if you know me, you know I’m a poker face girl until it becomes my real face.

Funnily enough… I think I scared them.

Shortly after, staff held a meeting about me and my concerns at site (I’ll make a separate post about that). The Safety and Security Manager came to my village, met with my community, spoke with taxi drivers and inspectors in the camptown, and now calls me weekly.

And you know what else?

They sat down with my cohort and gave us the option to cancel the psychologist session altogether and reschedule.

The white volunteers, who had previously said they enjoyed the session, supported us. They said if one of us was offended, we all were.

So we canceled.

And we rescheduled.

Major shoutout to Peace Corps and my cohort.

Because honestly… I don’t know if this wouldn’t have been an “I went home” post without the support of my family, friends, Peace Corps, myself, and above all, God’s protection.

Things are now as back to “normal” as they can be when you’re 10,000 miles away from home.

But more than anything, I’m doing better.

And I’m excited to continue this journey and documenting it for you.

I’ll be posting once every other week (proof of life 🫧), on Thursday at 3:00 PM Lesotho Standard Time.

Shesweswe!