What a jerk!

First, a lesson from the ever-so-dependable Wikipedia:

In physics, jerk, also known as jolt, surge, or lurch, is the rate of change of acceleration; that is, the derivative of acceleration with respect to time, the second derivative of velocity, or the third derivative of position.

Furthermore,

Physics (from Ancient Greek: φύσις physis "nature") is a part of natural philosophy and a natural science that involves the study of matter and its motion through space and time, along with related concepts such as energy and force. More broadly, it is the general analysis of nature, conducted in order to understand how the universe behaves.

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In the last two weeks, I have experienced a jerk in my life in the Dominican Republic, specifically in the acceleration of acostumbramiento and socializing. A few great moments illustrate this.

We hadn't been riding in the concho for two minutes when it pulled over to the side of the road to let someone else in, who would be the fourth in the back seat. As she opened the door and got in next to Erica, the wind blew in and I turned away, my hand coming up to tame my hair. I looked at her as we pulled off, and my breath caught- I knew her! A young morenita, partially raised by my host family's grandma, we had hung out together at the funeral for an hour or two. She asked if I remembered her. "¡Si, claro!" My overwhelming emotion made the words rush and stumble out. Her eyes danced. We talked about what she was doing in the city and what we've been up to until Erica and I got out at the corner after Bon. 

Conchos, public transportation at it's finest, and Bon, icecream, which is always finest.

We walked into the farmacia to pick up the last of my prescription that had just come in. "Hola, I'm the girl that has been-" "¡Hola! What's up today?" The three behind the counter interrupted my introduction with smiles and handshakes. I was so happy that they remembered me. On the five minute walk home, we passed by two neighbors, one of which merely said, "Hola, pretty girls!" (it was okay, as piropos here are common, and he is old) and the other stopped to chat for a bit.

That afternoon was the most delight-filling one yet. I felt welcomed and accepted, known, a faint comfort of home. 

So I've been experiencing a jerk, a change in the acceleration, as an increase in the rate of my familiarization, which was an already speeding force, energy. And I think the word applies, as I am a part of nature, and how life works is part of how the universe behaves. I am entirely grateful and filled with wonder that nature is behaving so. 

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Bittersweet, Minus the Sweet

Today, I went with ISA, my study abroad company and group, to Jarabacoa for some eco-tourism and to La Vega, which means the valley, kind of funny because it's the singular form of Las Vegas, for la carnaval, one of traditions the Dominican Republic is known for. It was an extraordinary day, spectacular really. I rode a horse for the first time in ten years, a huge fear now overcome, somewhat, climbed a hill next to a waterfall, road around the countryside in the back of a sort-of-safari-like truck, enjoyed picking rocks from a river, and was thrilled by the costumes and customs of the Sunday afternoon carnaval.

On the way home, I decided to get dropped off at La Sirena, which is kind of like Walmart, in order to buy supplies for tomorrow at the orphanage, we're going to make a poster of the rules we established last week. I was confident, feeling comfortable enough to walk home alone! I know how to handle los piropos now. 
And I was just checking out when one of the most disheartening things happened:

Have you ever heard of the invisible white knapsack? 

To have unknowingly, it's really the best. But to have it knowingly, with a conscience, is truly the worst. 

I was checking out with my poster, markers and tape, with the 500 pesos in my hand ready to pay, and I had already said saludos to the cashier and told her that I did not have a SirenaMás card. Then a man with his family walked up behind me, and him and the cashier exchanged some quick language about targetas and efectivo, and he became angry. He said, "I saw the lady with cash. You should treat everyone equally," as he backed out of the isle and moved to the next.

I nervously watched him as he left, hoping he wouldn't turn his animosity towards me, for me towards me is more like it. I asked the woman if it is not okay to pay with cash, as she obviously hadn't let him. In a cavalier manner, she shook her head and said I was fine. The man said again from behind me that he had saw me pay with cash, and that he should be allowed to as well.

I turned and looked at him, he was avoiding eye contact with me. He was looking at his new cashier, face red, jaw clenched, lips pursed, visibly upset. I looked so sad, maybe a little frightened, too. 

I turned to my cashier, sullenly said "permiso," and asked her again if it was not okay to pay with cash. She explained that you may only pay with cash if you have under ten items. I turned to look at the man again, because I do have "a staring problem," like we used to say as kids. He muttered, "Hay que tratarnos todos iguales."


As I left, I became upset that he had made such a big deal out of this situation, with me, of all people! I'm the anthropologist that makes a conscious effort to understand the life-ways of the Dominican people, to see why they value them, to partake in them, and to value them myself, to love it all in a way that isn't through rose-colored glasses, to feel Dominican. I try to validate them and their culture, not walk all over them! He had it all wrong!



But then, wasn't it kind of a silly rule that you can only pay with cash if you have less than ten items? What if they're really expensive! What does number have to do with it? He didn't even have a cart. He must have had fewer, too.



Oh no. My heart sank. He was right, I was being favored and I hadn't even known it. It wasn't because I'm a female, because my cashier was a woman, and any non-straight orientation isn't acceptable in this country. I was white. That's why, and I still am, as I'm walking down the street towards my host family's apartment, feeling defeated. In what other ways have I been able to live easier here, unknowingly? I thought about my día de diversión, about the last six and half weeks, and I still have no idea. I need to be more aware of this.

I'm genuinely grateful that he called this all to my attention and that he is making his resentment for the everyday, seemingly tiny injustices known, acknowledged, as they are the little concrete practices that demonstrate the monstrous, underlying idea so many people are enculturated, or socialized, if you prefer sociology, into: white is better.

This guy is a hero, the kind people read about in history text books.

For more information on this appalling goody-bag, read this: http://www.amptoons.com/blog/files/mcintosh.html

For all of you extranjeros in the DR, please think about this, and don't let (really, it's make) this guy's efforts be in vain!
Sorry this is really preachy.