I am different

I am Different

First, OK, sorry I don’t update this thing more often. I’ve been busy, or lazy, or both. I’ll try to write more – no guarantees.
Warning: I am going to extract a bit of hyperbole from this story, but bear with me. I think it is at least very telling.
The other I was walking around the nearby town (“town” meaning paved streets, market, ice cream shop) with two other volunteers, both female, in the late afternoon. We passed a gleaming new bar/liquor store. As I have written, the normal drinking establishments are of a low-key environment – big, open-air space, cheap beer, huge speakers. This place was none of that. It was small, sleek, fully enclosed, and highly air-conditioned (a rarity in any commercial establishment). It had a selection of alcohol seen only in big supermarkets in the major cities. It was clear that the location catered to a certain, specific clientele.
As we passed by the bar we noticed video cameras and some smartly dressed people milling about inside. A man wearing a brilliant red shirt opened the door and invited us inside. We were intrigued, so we accepted the invitation. We recognized a group of four guys who were clearly being fawned over as a merengue band (Sin Fronteras) whose posters were plastered up all over the town advertising an upcoming concert. A number of people came up to us, introduced themselves, and proffered free drinks (Ron Barceló – better than Brugal). We had apparently stumbled into a TV and radio interview of the band while also clearly being a promotion for the new bar. The only people inside the bar were with the media, the band, or the bar. Other people continued to pass by and were not invited inside. Sure, the three of us were dressed nicely for a meeting we had attended that day, so maybe that was part of is. But why where we let in and not others?
In the end we decided, only half-jokingly, that half the reason we were invited in was because we were clearly American (i.e., white), and most of the rest was because we were good-looking, but half of the attractiveness factor came from the fact that we were American and had a good female-male ratio. I know that if I had been walking around with friends from the campo, we would never have been invited inside. If I had been in the States in similar circumstances, I wouldn’t have been invited inside.
So why does it matter? It is a fun little story, a nice bit of adventure and excitement for us who struggle against apathy and disillusionment in our work. But we received acknowledgement there not because of what we do or even who we were, but what we looked like and what those appearances represented.
This is one of the two-faced coins aspects of the Peace Corps experience. Being American, we are inherently different, are treated as such (i.e., better), and become accustomed to such privileged treatment. But we also live nearly completely integrated into Dominican society. It is a difficult balancing act that we must always confront in our work and lifestyle as Volunteers.