Broken Home(stay)

So mere hours after I posted my last entry on Sunday night, something awful happened. My host parents broke up and my father moved out. To at least protect their privacy a little, I'm going to leave out the details, but it was upsetting and dramatic and not mutual.

It was the first night I came back from the North and I felt like I had a pretty good handle on things, until I completely didn't at all. Of course, this makes for a better story. I was entirely planning on having a thoroughly boring, if happy, two last weeks. So much for that.

The first night I found out, I didn't really sleep and the next morning I found myself crying on the street. Although I'm really quite fond of my host family, it was always only a temporary arrangement. It is not really my grief. I'm moving out in a week and my life will continue on as it had, more or less.

The first complete draft of my research paper was due yesterday and I was focused on writing and trying to let my mother have her space. I haven't spent much time with her or done anything much to help. I washed the dishes once because I understand that just because the world ends, doesn't mean there aren't still dirty dishes. I'm hoping to bake for her this weekend. Any other ideas? They didn't prepare us for this during orientation.

Whirlwind Week

This semester has been one of the most emotional times of my life because I'm constantly coming and going. And this week has been all about the coming and going. I'm leaving Chile 2 weeks from tomorrow. I'm so excited to be going home for the summer but of course, there's a part of me that feels tied up in Chile now.

I started the week in Arica, ready to finish up my field work. On Monday, I led a focus group of pregnant adolescents and went to a sex ed class, both of which were incredible and not at all what I was expecting. I may write more about that day later, but honestly, a week has not been enough to process all of it, not by a long shot.

On Wednesday, I had to show my research advisor, who I respect a lot, the progress I had made on my paper. I was super nervous to show her my 11 jumbled pages because I knew she was going to give me that mentor-look, the one that says: "Really? You can do better." What I wasn't expecting was for her to tell me that I should fix it and show it to her anew in 4 hours. It was a rough last day in Arica, but at the end of it, she was happy with my progress, as was I.

Thursday morning I got on a plane for Santiago, where I spent the weekend with my friend Jill who is studying the effect of machismo on gender performance amongst the urban lesbian population. (Where do I find these people?) We spent all weekend partying with a large group of Chilean lesbians. We meant to do other things, but never quite got around to any of them. No regrets.

Today, I got back to Valparaiso and was reunited with my host family here. I haven't seen them in weeks and wanted to tell them everything, which I did. I wouldn't stop talking for almost forever. They didn't seem to mind, though. I've come along way from the girl who was barely confident to enter a store for the thought of having to speak to someone in Spanish.

Happy Mother's Day

For the last 2 weeks, I've been in Arica, starting my independent research project. My project is a comparative study between pregnant adolescents with and without indigenous (specifically, Aymaran) descent. The first week, I spent almost all of my time waiting around for people to get in touch so I could actually conduct interviews. It was definitely worth the wait.

At the end of last week, I spoke with 10 pregnant teens. Their honesty is disarming and I can't express how much of an honor it is to bear witness to rather personal aspects of their lives. As a  random 21-year-old college student from the U.S., who isn't even fluent in Spanish yet, I'm surprised at times that they're willing to talk to me at all and I feel greatly indebted to them.

They are excited and nervous; they are planning on finishing school; they are single, in relationships, married; they have the support of their families, some more than others; they live with their mothers, or maybe their partners; they are first-time mothers or it is their second pregnancy; they have dreams, career plans, they want to travel; they are strong.

In a word, it's complicated. There's no one uniform teen mother experience, especially cross-culturally. Teen mothers are people, and they deserve to be treated as such. They are not cautionary tales or political bargaining chips. And honestly, they have me craving the whole heteronormative mess that is pregnancy (someday...) more than anything else I've experienced, even while reminding me that there is nothing normative about it. I'm sure I rolled my eyes, I didn't really even try to fight her on it.

Today, I also remember that I wouldn't be in Chile at all if not for my own mother. Among other things (like giving birth to me), she called my middle school guidance office to switch me into Spanish when I had signed up for French. My inner teenager is rolling my eyes at the thought of it, but I'm mature enough to admit that she was right. Happy Mother's Day!