Read more about her Peace Corps experience at her blog "I hope this cambodes well"
Host sister and I; I'm only 5'5'' yet I look like a giant next to your average Khmer woman
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When I arrived in Cambodia, during training, we had many sessions that touched on “being a female volunteer” and its ramifications. Throughout my travels, specifically during my time studying abroad in Morocco, I have experienced a variety of cultures’ perceptions of women, foreign and native. In Morocco, I stood out a lot, even when wearing the traditional djellaba (long cloak with hood) and it was uncomfortable for me to say the least. I have continued to be acutely aware of the way my gender affects the way others treat me as soon as I set foot in my new home for two years. Although women have more visible freedom here than I experienced in Morocco, I still find a quieter and culturally engrained stifling of women in Cambodian culture. That being said, about a year into my service, the way I perceived men reacting to me, was not my biggest frustration I faced day to day. The biggest affront I faced had to do with the way other women reacted to my presence.
“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”
– from cambodes.blogspot.com
published June 24, 2013
Most of us were taught this when we were young. We feel fairly safe entering the world every day without brutal honesty and judgment hitting us in the face. We do our best to project ourselves confidently through our actions, speech and appearance, and hope to receive mostly positive responses. Most of us desire critical feedback, but only when requested, in order to grow and make improvements. I was working on a post about the things in my current life that I have become accustomed to living in a foreign culture that would still sound rather strange to others, but I put those thoughts on hold to address one of my biggest challenges I still face living here. This is something that I have not been able to get used to as merely a cultural difference. It’s often on my mind and I believe my thoughts on the issue to be evolving the longer I am here.
I realized recently that I have become more self-conscious when it comes to my physical appearance than I remember being in the last 8 or so years of my life. This has become more dominant in the past month or so, whereas at the beginning of my time in Cambodia and at site the constant comments about appearance didn’t quite penetrate my subconscious. When I first arrived, entering the market meant comments on my pointy nose and white skin (highly desirable traits) were coming from every which way contributing to how sa-at (beautiful) I was considered. While this got tiring and I even complained about constantly hearing how beautiful I was, it never quite bothered me the way it does when I’m told I am toe-at (fat). Other than being a rather unfortunate sounding word in Khmer, the labeling and judgment I assume comes with this comment is troublesome. Here being called fat is not the same as if a stranger were to do so in America, but coming from American culture, it doesn’t hurt any less when this word is slung at me. At first, I would always explain that I’m just bigger than Khmer people and I’m normal sized in other cultures, but when you hear this word often enough, it makes you wonder. I should explain that it’s not meant as an insult here; people would prefer to not be so skinny but their childhood nourishment of mostly rice stunts their growth quite a bit. Another thing to note is one day you may be fat, but the next you could be skinny again. I even start to believe that it’s possible I visibly gained 5 pounds from one day to the next.
When people are constantly commenting on my appearance or clearly sizing me up with their eyes, my gaze turns inward more than ever. Comments like these have felt more noticeable as of late because the receiving line of housewives and yeays (grandmas) that keep my host sister company as she works have become more vocal. The front of my house is my host sister’s tailoring business. She sits at all hours of the day at her sewing machine working. The front of our house thus serves as a gathering point for women, babies, yeays and anyone else who’s looking for a place to gossip and ongui lang (sit-play). Anytime I exit the house, I am subject to their comments which used to be more asking where I was going and at this point are strictly regarding my appearance. This can get old quick and obviously kind of frustrating. My host sister is very understanding of difference and Western culture in a way that most Khmer people aren’t, so she is not one to launch these comments at me. However, this doesn’t lessen the onslaught from the others. Fellow PCVs and I have expressed concern that we will also lack the filter expected in American culture upon returning home and will blurt out blunt judgments as we have become accustomed to receiving here.
I started to think back on the last year before I moved to Cambodia and how my perception of my body image could have changed so drastically in this transition. Prior to this, my vanity was under my own control. I was never big into mirrors and didn’t spend too much time in front of them. I would spend 5-10 minutes getting ready every morning; I would dress myself without a mirror (maybe a bad choice), put up my hair and add some jewelry. I used clothing and jewelry to express myself and my individuality to my students, within the limits of business casual, who were my audience every day. I would spend the next 12ish hours focused on my work, my students, my lessons, my co-workers, coffee runs for a break/meetings, and daily tasks. My own appearance didn’t enter those 12 hours as I wouldn’t hear comments (aside from the occasional 7th grader pointing out a zit on your face) about my looks and my mind and body were completely consumed by my job. Besides, in American culture, friends and co-workers are expected to compliment rather than insult.
This weekend on a bike ride, I was listening to a TED talk titled “What is beauty?” where a model was giving her thoughts on the modeling industry’s standard of beauty. She remarked on how the public is unaware that models are in actuality the most insecure women on the planet. She said she feels insecure because she has to think about what she looks like everyday. This comment resonated with my current situation because I effectively have to put on armor before exiting my room each day in preparation for what someone might say about me. Their looks and opinions, whether or not they are founded in truth, are the reality of my life as a strange foreigner in a superficially homogenous culture. My difference draws attention and interest everywhere I go; I’m still trying to figure out how to accept that.
I just returned from some time away from my site spent in America, other areas of Cambodia, and Thailand traveling with my family. During that time I got some perspective on the way image is conceived of in Khmer culture. I learned to not take it all so personally, but it also reminded me of the reality of living in the Cambodian countryside. As many PCVs say, I may be the first and only foreigner some Cambodians I meet will encounter. When I can zoom out and see the larger context, I realize that it’s really not about me. I try every chance to use these comments as teaching moments, especially when it comes to the 40 young girls I work with at the nearby orphanage who are struggling with their own ideas of beauty.
Sam and her students at Camp GLOW
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By Samantha Weiss, K6 volunteer
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