Identity in Peace Corps as Someone Something Short of "Gringa" is Complicated
- agudelodaniela1
- Feb 19
- 4 min read
I belong to an affinity group connecting Peace Corps volunteers from all over the globe that identify as Latinos, belonging in some way, shape, or form to América Latina, but America nonetheless. I woke up this morning to a message in our affinity group with a shared article titled "A mi identidad le falta un mapa" from a fellow PCV Latina, Alejandra Coronel. Alejandra shares her story as a Mexican American volunteer who at first found herself justifying and repeating her story in her country of service, the Dominican Republic. I share her inspiring and very relatable article at the end of this blog, thank you Alejandra!
"Belonging" is a mind boggling word for any Peace Corps volunteer serving in a country much different than their own, with traditions some of us learn about for the first time, and foods our stomachs need the entirety of the 2 years and 3 months to adjust to. But there are some parts of this new culture we find ourselves in that remind us so much of "home" specially if you're a Latino serving in a Latin American country. "Home" is where the heart is - it's not a physical place and it doesn't have the conventional doors and windows a typical house would, but it does have a clay tiled roof and a scent of Spanish colonialism.
"You're from the US, but how come your Spanish is so polished?"
My local bestie, Cindy, always jokes with me when she hears people asking me this question. In fact, she's also a work partner, so she's been around me quite often when I've had to introduce myself and the work I fulfill as a Peace Corps volunteer to another country local. She looks at me and motions to the invisible tape recorder in her hand: "play". At this point she's heard me tell the same story so many times that she knows it better than I do. Representing the US in a country that associates the "American" with a blonde person with blue eyes feels like a toxic relationship with unrealistic expectations. It's not exactly what my host town expected when they were promised a volunteer from the Unites States; instead, they received a colocha with perfect Spanish and a complicated identity.
"You're Colombian, but how come your accent is so neutral?"
I have quite the advantage being Latina in Guatemala - I blend in quite nicely, and it's often difficult for a Guatemalan to pin point exactly where I'm from. Many locals assume I'm from the capital, as they've seen me walking these streets for some months now and think I've moved in with family in town. This of course all disappears when I open my mouth, but still it's hard to put an identity to the voice. Being raised in the United States from the age of 7 neutralized my Colombian accent. The saying "if you don't use it, you will loose it" couldn't be more real. I lost my fluent Spanish abilities as a teenager when I refused to speak any Spanish outside of home, mainly out of fear of deportation. As a college student I realized its power and regained it after taking many language courses for my Bilingual Childhood Education career and refined it as a Dual Language teacher in Brooklyn, NY.
I've come to realize that I owe no one an explanation for how neutral my accent is, how Colombian or American I may or may not be, because quite simply the assumptions are based on a long list of stereotypes and unrealistic expectations. Colombians are often assumed to have the "paisa" accent, the beautiful melodious sounds of the person from Medellin depicted in the many Pablo Escobar movies and series on Netflix, not bearing in mind the diversity that exists within a single country. Colombia's clay tiled roof is made of many melodies, the "Costeño" (from the Caribbean coast), the "Vallecaucano" or "Caleño" (from the Cauca River Valley), the "Rolo" (from Bogotá), among many others. Boldly I'll say, it's just as diverse as the United States of America.
"You're traveling back home for the holiday? Oh take me to the US with you!"
When my students asked where I would be spending my New Year's, I excitedly mentioned that I was going to be traveling to spend time with my family. Their response immediately made the assumption that I would be traveling back to the United States. "Actually, the majority of my family live in Colombia, including my mom and grandma, my aunts and cousins - almost everyone", was my response. Guatemala is known to be a collectivist culture, valuing time and proximity to family, a luxury I don't exactly have at the moment. "You're so far from family, you must feel alone all the time" - a feeling I've grown accustomed to at a very young age, your typical immigrant story.
In fact, the surprise induced regarding my identity from both sides likely stems from what my Peace Corps program and training managers probably anticipated when they encouraged me to share my immigration story. A story with relatable feelings for so many young and old who either have a relative who's made the courageous journey across the border seeking better opportunities and quality of life or someone who has made a brave return back to their roots. Their home is also dispersed among many corners of the US, Guatemala, and unknowingly many other places.
Identity takes many shapes and forms depending on the environment you find yourself in. It may bring out facets you didn't know existed or themes you hadn't placed any importance on. This Peace Corps experience has certainly made something clear, home is where the heart is, and home for me is many places all at once.
To my PCV Latinos, you inspire me to serve BOLDLY as a Latina <3
Read Alejandra Coronel's story here:
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