Changing my definition of activism after studying abroad in Santiago de Chile

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Everyday it seems more and more difficult for me to think optimistically about the United States. I won’t delve into the numerous problems I have with the country that I am supposed to call “mine,” but I will say this: just as I’ve learned to critique the United States, I’ve learned through my first semester being back from studying abroad in Latin America that it is equally important to notice its intricacies in all forms. It’s much easier for me nowadays to make assumptions about people in the U.S., especially concerning how they think in regards to certain political topics. For example, I make the assumption daily most U.S. Americans know nothing or close to nothing about politics or current affairs in Latin America, or even beyond. Obviously that is not true, I’m literally enveloped in a community of students that are capable of proving me wrong. But the point I am trying to make is that recently I made the realization that I was conditioned to “dislike” people that disagree with me and immediately dismiss them instead of engaging them within a productive and civil discussion.

I use the word “conditioned” lightly, but I also mean it when I say that throughout the broad culture in the U.S. everyone has been taught in some form or another, however their teachers or parents or politicians chose to define it, that we all have freedom of speech and are allowed to defend our opinions in any way we see fit. Of course, this is thought of as being integral to both our morals and fundamentals as American citizens: we can have our opinions so long as others can have theirs, too. Yet I see such stark contradictions and double-standards that go against these supposed rules we are literally required to, through written law, abide by. People use the first amendment of the constitution to support racist, homophobic, and xenophobic ideology, completely ignoring the fact that their denunciation of certain people and cultures goes against their freedom of speech, as well. There should be no written rules concerning how to treat other people; it should be understood that every person needs to be respected. There is not a sense of unity within our U.S. culture; there is such ugly separation and poor sense of community. We are separated by political parties, class, sexuality, education level and skin color; we rarely ask who or what caused us to think like this. We forget that segregation in all forms may not be as obvious to some as it has been in the past and imperialist America continues to stray further away from the truth, as if it wasn’t only 100 years ago women received the right to vote, or as if our current president didn’t propose to build a literal and physical wall between “us and Mexico” (imposing the “us vs. them” mentality), or as if Massachusetts wasn’t still extremely racially segregated in so many ways. Naturally, humans are supposed to join together and find commonalities. But I find it hard to see past the pessimism and hateful speech from all sides of all arguments, just as I find it hard to acknowledge and accept all the complexities I have recently come to begin to acknowledge.

Surely there are many things standing in the way of cross-cultural communities being formed, and in a successful manner. I see anger everyday amongst people in communities such as my own – the LGBT community. People are getting pushed too far when it comes to how they are “allowed” to express themselves within the spaces they inhabit. Although gay marriage is “legal,” legality doesn’t have to equal acceptance, or even justice. Trans people, especially trans people of color, are killed by the hundreds due to their identities. LGBT youth are homeless due to expectations and often unacceptance imposed onto them by their parents. On our own campus, there have been examples of hate speech against LGBT people that have caused us to feel unsafe in a place that should be wholly accepting of who we are. I constantly ask myself everyday: who are the people instilling within our parents, within their generation, to hate on, call out, and even kill queer and trans people? More importantly, how can we keep this from happening? How can we keep all minority groups out of danger and free from oppression?

Definitely a difficult question to answer. People have been trying to answer that forever. However, I want to reiterate that my experiences listening to other LGBT community members, listening to people of color, and engaging in conversations with underprivileged communities has helped me develop a more comprehensive (albeit complicated) view of how I should approach the own injustices I face as well as how to use my privilege to educate and empower. It is not so healthy to be surrounded by activism and social justice all the time, though; we live in a digital age that makes it easy for us to get caught up in said injustices and can affect our mental health in a negative way. Each and every one of us should be focused on empowering others and ourselves while simultaneously maintaining our energy and patience. I notice that my patience is lost when I speak to someone with a differing opinion than mine on a constant basis; it is important that I don’t waste my energy on someone that will clearly not understand the point I am trying to make without proper education. Instead of arguing with someone on Facebook “why they are wrong,” I try and supplement my points with articles, readings, and quotes that I received my information from. I know it is impossible to convince anyone of anything, especially when personal experience comes into play during many of the Facebook arguments we can all get too involved in. But I need to change the conversation and expectation for everyone when proving my arguments, and as a white, non-Latinx person, I am inherently required to do the work PoC and immigrants in this country shouldn’t have to do. It isn’t their job to educate people, especially if they’re at the butt-end of oppression. 

To serve as an example, I have been paying attention relentlessly to the social and political uprisings going on in Chile, partly because it is a place that is my second home and it is simply too inspiring to not pay attention to. There have been millions of people on the streets of Santiago, protesting peacefully against an oppressive government that they know deserves to be critiqued and ultimately dismantled. I have received numerous stories, pictures, and videos of the protests sent to me by my Chilean friends, and many of them have helped me build my arguments against the government and for the Chilean people. I would get angry every single day, asking myself why everyone didn’t know about the stunning injustice and violence going on in a place that I hold so close to my heart. I soon came to realize that many people don’t know about the uprisings in Latin America because we aren’t taught to care nor are we given the adequate and accurate resources we need to understand what is happening there and why. I probably wouldn’t have paid attention to anything going on in Chile if I hadn’t studied there, so it makes sense that I pay so much attention to it now. I’ve started to recognize that the only true unity comes from human interaction and understanding; it frustrates me that people are less willing to listen to each other, even within our own culture. Sometimes people with the “best” intentions also have tendencies of dismissing others when their opinion doesn’t match theirs.

Additionally, through learning about the Chilean protests, I understood that it was my job to speak up for my friends and tell others their story. They were there, living most of the violence and standing in the streets for hours while I sat comfortably on my couch in my living room. Of course I care about Chile, and of course I care about my friends and host family. But my intentions and feelings were empty without having experienced the same repression the Chilean people had been feeling for years after a neoliberal, fascist dictatorship. I felt more disconnected to Chile than ever before, watching the streets I became so familiar with become full of unrest and disparity. I opened Instagram one day and at least 20 of the stories I watched were footage from protests, some even including live videos of burning metro trains and buses. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of what I was paying such immense attention to, and it started to hurt me more than assist me in my understanding of Chilean politics and activism. I was starting to lose focus of what I needed to pay attention to – I was required to not stay silent on the subject. I was required to speak up as much as possible, and without hesitation. Of course I shouldn’t blame myself for my absence during this time of Chilean protest, nor should I blame myself for the fact that I wasn’t taught about Latin American politics the correct way prior to living there. Part of being an activist is understanding that there are systems in place that make it difficult for marginalized groups to receive attention and justice. We must understand that we can never possibly fix everything, or even anything at all; we must simply understand what it means to be an imperfect human and how to educate ourselves and the ones around us in the best way possible.

Of course I have felt hurt and sad during these weeks of protests. However, I also developed more of a deep love for Chile and all of the people I met there. I feel like I understand my friends better now, even though we are miles apart. It has taken time for me to shift my attitude from the “angry progressive” to someone that I hope is more understanding and accepting. Just because we may denounce certain acts and beliefs doesn’t mean we necessarily understand how they come about. During my semester back from Chile, I created a more productive environment amongst my activism and education and actually started to love my study abroad country more and more. Through being in Chile and continuing to interact with the people I met there, I have learned that sometimes the best approach to frustration is involving others in the conversations we have, not only include those who seem as if they would understand us. The only way to change our future forever and create a more inclusive environment comes from raw human understanding and interaction. With a tolerance for different ideas, we can become a more tolerant society as a whole. I encourage you to involve your uncle in a calm and patient discussion the next time he says “Mexicans shouldn’t receive health care for free” during Thanksgiving; even if he doesn’t learn anything per se, he will know that not every social activist is seeking to tear down conservatives and Trump supporters alike. We must change our future for ourselves, for what we truly and fundamentally stand for, and for those who don’t have the same privileges as us. 

 

How to learn about what’s going on in Chile:

* = only in Spanish

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