September 30, 2016 - 14:04
Growing up as a military child, I’ve been able to experience a variety of different contact zones. Contact zones in the various countries I’ve lived in, in the countless schools I’ve attended, and even in military bases. One of the most striking contact zones that I’ve had the chance to encounter was the one between the American embassy community in Armenia and the Armenian people. This contact zone taught me an incredible amount; but, most importantly, it taught me that foreigners are able to help individuals of a different country if they are willing to delve deep and understand the culture that they are guests in.
The contact zone that I was a part of in Armenia was hugely imbalanced, as is often typical of contact zones. (Pratt 34) I went to school with the children of oligarchs and came home to a large house in the middle of a poverty-stricken neighborhood. Stray dogs roamed the streets and elderly grandmothers sold food on the corners, while I spent my days playing with my dog behind the safety of the large wall that separated my house from the outside.
The American embassy did its best to offer support and assistance to those who were struggling. Although I didn’t exactly have an in-depth view of all of the policies the embassy was employing, I did participate in some of the humanitarian actions the embassy involved the entire community in. One of these was an orphanage clean up. For a few hours, we cut grass, picked up trash, and pruned trees and bushes to help spruce up the orphanage.
Was this simple act of humanitarianism doing harm, as Cole warned us it can? We, or at least I, didn’t consider the long lasting implications of the act of cleaning up the orphanage. Would the orphanage become dependent on our actions and us? Just as Deborah Bird Rose relates in her portion of the essay Ravens at Play, she was discouraged from feeding the coyote due to the fact that it could have become dependent on her for food and therefore be worse off in the long run. Based off of the ideas Cole suggests in his article, it would have perhaps been more beneficial to help local organizations that were already in place.
However, there were causes that is seems no one but outsiders truly took up. Throughout the three years that I spent in Armenia, my family and I went to a Catholic church run by the Missionaries of Charity: nuns from the order of Mother Teresa. The nuns at this church also ran their own orphanage for children who were abandoned at birth due to their mental or physical disabilities. These children were abandoned in the hospital as infants. The reasons that they were abandoned weren’t always clear; sometimes it was due to the fact that their parents didn’t have the funds to take care of them, while other times their parents just didn’t want them because of their mental disabilities. The nuns who cared for these children weren’t locals from Armenia. They came from all over the world: Some were from Poland, some from India, and some even from Belarus.
In response to the video Kony 2012, in which a white man explains the need for action within an African country, Teju Cole passionately tweeted: “This world exists simply to satisfy the needs—including, importantly, the sentimental needs—of white people and Oprah.” Is it, however, fair to make such a statement? The women in this orphanage, although some of them were white, were truly making a difference for these abandoned children, and didn’t seem to be doing so only to satisfy their own sentimental needs. The Missionaries of Charity established a safe, comfortable environment for these children and made a difference in their lives. The nuns also understood. They understood the culture and some of the reasons why these children were abandoned. They did not judge the parents who abandoned their children; they simply provided the children with a supportive home.
The night that I was supposed to give my speech about women in sports, I didn’t do that one key thing; I didn’t understand the culture or the situation well enough. At that point in time, there was no way I possibly could have understood the depths at which these women had suffered in order to simply play their sport. (Kyle 2) I had overstepped my boundaries and, in my rush to make the world a better place, gave my own opinion about the situation. I attempted to take the first step towards women’s sports in Armenia becoming much like women’s sports in my home country. However, this wasn’t my home country: the culture and practices of the individuals in Armenia were remarkably different than my own. The way women would play sport in Armenia, and the way they would go about changing the norm, would likely be much different than in the United States.
As Cole remarked in his essay: “If we are going to interfere in the lives of others, a little due diligence is the minimum requirement.” The problem in my situation was that I was not giving the Armenian people the due diligence they deserved. The nuns, however, were. This seemingly subtle, small difference between our two attempts to make Armenia a better place made a world of difference.
When speaking of the course she taught that involved learning in the contact zone, Pratt remarked: “Along with rage, incomprehension, and pain, there were exhilarating moments of wonder and revelation, mutual understanding, and new wisdom…” (Pratt 39). Although contact zones are messy and sometimes difficult, they challenge you. In order to learn, it is necessary to be challenged. Your ideas, your opinions, and your thoughts have to be stretched beyond your safety zone, so that you’re forced to question their merit.
As we can see from Pratt, contact zones are ideal places for learning. We come into contact with multiple cultures and various people, and thus have to expand our thinking. It is important to note, however, that contact zones are only learning opportunities if you make them so. The contact zone that I was a part of in Armenia was, and still is, an ideal place for learning. Although I didn’t fully understand the situation the night I was giving that speech, as I matured, I stepped out of my comfort zone and came to recognize the struggle within the country.
Embassies, as representatives of the United States abroad, have the opportunity to learn and understand the culture. Although some may not take advantage of that opportunity, I know that our small embassy in Armenia did. Ambassador Heffern, who served in Armenia for the last few years I was there, went to mass with my family, and several other embassy families, every week. He did his best to understand the situation the people of the country were in, and then based his decisions and policies off of that. Broad generalizations, such as those expressed by Teju Cole in his tweets and article, are not always painting the clearest picture: There are some aspects of American foreign policy that are “getting it right,” so to speak.
In order to get it right, it is of utmost importance to step out of your comfort zone in a contact zone. Only when you are uncomfortable, unsure of your stance, and feeling unstable, can you truly learn. With learning comes understanding, and with understanding comes respect. It is impossible to agree with all of the actions or practices certain people or countries employ, but you learn to respect that that is a way of life for them. Through the respect that you establish, you discover how to help the individuals within that particular country. Contact zones bring with them a whole newfound sense of place in the world. Don’t hide behind your wall; embrace the discomfort you feel. Only then can you truly make a difference in the lives of others.
References
Bird Rose, Deborah et. al. “Ravens at Play.” Cultural Studies Review, vol. 17. num. 2, 2011, pp. 326-343.
Cole, Teju. “The White Savior Industrial Complex.” The Atlantic, 21 Mar. 2012. www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/03/the-white-savior-industrial-complex/254843/. Accessed 29 Sep. 2016.
Kyle, Anna. Identity. Unpublished Manuscript, 2016.
Pratt, Mary Louise. “Arts of the Contact Zone.” Profession. Modern Language Association, 1991.