Youth for sale: Reflections from the streets of Bogotá

Breaking the silence...

2011-12-27T12:04:00.000-08:00

After finishing a short-term consulting project on human trafficking and youth in the sex trade in Colombia, a student emailed me a link to this song by Calle 13 entitled 'Prepare (me) dinner'.... she mentioned that after transcribing the interviews from the project, she could not stop thinking of how these lyrics echo the life histories of many girls and boys we worked with.

Her email expressed the following:

[3:36 am]

--

Amy,

después de todo este proceso no dejo de pensar en esta canción, retrata muy bien las historias de todos estos hombres y mujeres.

El vídeo dice más de lo que yo puedo escribir, "No se cuentan los segundos se cuentan las historias"

"En esta vida me castigaste, me robaste tiempo, me re cagaste, mi culpabilidad es como una pecera vacía"

Violence touches us all...in distinct ways...it keeps us up at strange hours...makes it difficult to enjoy the holiday season...to be completely present in a family gathering...to swallow the carefully and lovingly prepared food at the dining table where I spent my childhood...on top of gut-wrenching sorrow and a stomach full of personal reflection...should I rest?...just a few days...or keep fighting the silence? Quiet times here in Connecticut by the fireplace... the silence is unbearable. The silence haunts me...disturbs my sleep through its screeching persistence...I try to drown it out with music...with more work...with more wine...this silence will not permit me to rest until we turn it around...flip silent acceptance of horrendous realities to project and operationalize grounded social change...stop trafficking through awareness before its tracks are forever ingrained in the memories of stolen youth...

After the dissertation: Beyond the 'touch and go' model of fieldwork

2011-03-24T09:43:00.000-07:00

Done with fieldwork? Finished your dissertation?

Turn your back and walk away from the community?...

Abandonment is standard for street girls...their mothers, fathers, siblings, or other loved ones often fail them...they are abused at a young age and left to fend for themselves...clients 'touch and go' everyday...

As activist-scholars, we should not fall into this same pattern. As I have argued elsewhere, what is known in the academic world as 'care ethics' depends on constancy...abandonment is fatal to the reproduction of caring relations in the field and to the future of an action-research program started, in my case, as the basis of doctoral research.

Traditional research programs in the human sciences are still bound within this 'touch and go' model...researchers 'penetrate' communities, immerse themselves and 'pull out' when the funding runs dry and when they've obtained what they need to advance in their careers.

Metaphorically speaking, scholars who follow such protocols are no better than brothel administrators or pimps that take what they need from street girls, exploit their image for personal benefit and move on to the next girl [project] when she has nothing more to offer...nothing left to explore...to showcase...

I urge activist-scholars to consider this metaphor when entering into a participatory action research endeavor...

PAR, for me, has only just begun...

Our Fourth Public Presentation: Reframing Empowerment in YPAR

2010-11-21T07:20:00.000-08:00

Public health street outreach - Below: flyers passed out to peer leaders and 'at-risk' street populations

2010-07-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

OUR FIRST PUBLIC PRESENTATION: Bringing PAR to Academic Spaces

2010-05-21T09:36:00.000-07:00

VIDEO COMING SOON!

Click here to register for our event

"Death Without Weeping": Understanding Scheper-Hughes through Everyday Life in Santa Fé

2010-05-20T19:34:00.000-07:00

I am running late to a day of research with the PAR group of chicas trans - I arrive to the barrio Santa Fé (also known as 'la zona de tolerancia) and call Tiffany (one of the peer leaders running the project) to let her know I am outside. Tiffany comes downstairs from the 'inquilinato' where she lives with her 'marido' (partner) and we walk through the maze of bazuco (crack) rooms, pass 2 kids running around and fighting over shoes, enter her room, and shut the door quickly. Tiffany slowly places the wooden panel over the knob to lock the door and looks at me with a long face - 'They killed Ingrid last night around the corner'...My reaction was slow as the information didn't seem to register...Another travesti down...another hate crime in Santa Fé...I felt an eeriness in the air when I stepped off the Transmilenio (public transportation system) and walked into the zone...not as many people in the streets...Carrera (Av.) 16 empty where the travestis normally fill the windows and doors of the disco-brothels....Various memories of Ingrid flash through my mind as I begin to digest the information...going dancing...birthday parties in the same 'inquilinato' where we sit today...she was only 22 years old...died on the way to Hospital Santa Clara from a stab wound to the heart...symbolic...hateful...devastating...the girls will surely pay a visit to the Central Cemetery in Bogotá where they go when another one falls...to wish her peace...to ask for her transport to a better place...a safer place than the corners and brothels of Santa Fé. Alexandra was with us in Tiffany's pieza as well - I didn't have much to say and felt as helpless as I felt after the murder of Wanda...that day we sat at my house and tried to talk about it...to talk about how they feel...'Yes, Amy...it is devastating...we are sad....but this is just another day in Santa Fé'. It has taken me until now to completely understand this (the murder of Wanda was in October and two other cases have been reported since then).

We had an interview scheduled for the afternoon (after the murder of Ingrid)...and managed to make it through - although Tiffany's pieza was charged with rage and confusion...where do we direct our anger...how are we supposed to feel with the loss of yet another travesti? Should we run? During this research session, Alexandra mentioned, 'Amy, sometimes I just want to run away - to disappear'...

No tears were shed...

I looked into Tiffany and Alexandra's eyes searching for signs of grief...for some signal that will make it OK for me to cry...There seemed to be no risk of damaging their carefully powdered faces and colorful shimmering eye make-up with tear streaks...

I tried to stifle my emotions and move on with the interview day (as both girls wanted to do) - and so we proceeded as everyday life in Santa Fé continued around us.

Taxi drivers zipping by and slowing to look at the girls and make their pick...car wash employees sitting around and waiting for 'Estrato 6' clients to drive through and decide to clean out their SUVs before going home to their families...sex workers walking back and forth with clients from 'residencias' (hotel/brothels) to their hard earned territory on the street corner...younger girls standing on the corner of Calle 20 holding their 'home'made yogurt bottle-rigged glue sniffing devices up to their faces...

As everyday life continues to move, as money and fluids are exchanged, today's 'pieza', 'golpe del dia' (essential meal), and 'escape del mundo inmediato' (through drugs) remain the immediate priority items that cancel out reactions to death and prevent grief from taking over.

A few days later during another interview the girls informed me about the couple that was burned in Santa Fé (again right around the corner) ... I kept looking down at my fieldnote jottings and again tried to stifle my reaction...just another day in Santa Fé...

Over the course of these two weeks of chaos and death in Santa Fé, I was informed about the condition of my grandmother...today she passed away, may she rest in peace...

Between the loss of my grandmother and the loss of community members to 'limpieza social' (social cleansing) and hate crimes in Santa Fé, I am feeling surrounded and almost consumed by death...but I have learned from the girls how to weep less and keep my make-up streakless...

Does she think of me?

2010-03-31T10:56:00.000-07:00

On separation, notions of abandonment, mothers, daughters, adoption, and birthdays...through the ethnographic 'I'

{Photo of Amy and Mom}

When fieldwork touches us deeply (as members of a research community/team) it is healthy and academically fruitful to write reflexively about our feelings and the way in which our positionality and openness moves others (and vice versa).

Reaching out to others is not a one way process - rather, it is a reciprocal and mutually performed act of caring in which we reach within ourselves to connect with the experiences and feelings of those around us (especially within the research community).

Yesterday in one of the hip-hop workshops I found Vera pretty down...she asked me if we could talk privately in a corner...I thought to myself perhaps it's glue depression or let down from the cold night she spent in the streets of la 'L' (within the eyes of mainstream Bogotá, an invisible yet deviant and avoided drug zone ironically located behind the district military barracks)...

As we moved two chairs into the corner of the concrete homeless shelter the tears began to fall onto her soiled jersey...I moved my chair closer and held her shoulder firmly in a half hug (to demonstrate care without violating personal space)...

"Wednesday is my daughter's birthday...I want to go to Ibague to be with her so I may not be here for the hip-hop workshop...I'm so sorry...I don't want anyone to know why I'm crying..."

We sat there for a few moments of silent tears. "Amy, the truth is, my daughter is going to be four, and I have never spent a birthday with her because ICBF [state child protection agency] took her away when she was little...every birthday that passes I feel so sad...I cry all day for her...and I don't want anyone to know...I want to be with my daughter on her birthday...I want to see her face [more tears rolling into sobs of anguish, sadness, loss]."

"Does she think of me?..."

At that moment I began to feel the lump in my throat...fighting it...determined to be strong...I replied, "I'm sure she thinks of you Vera...she wants to remember your face, she wonders if you think of her....she feels sad on her birthday...even if she is with a family who loves her deeply..."

"She may be in France," I replied, "and her words and thoughts may be in a language you may not understand...but you are in her heart."

"How can you be sure, Amy?" .... I replied hesitantly, "because I feel a sadness every birthday that I hardly understand...I wonder if my birth mother [I was born in Bogotá and adopted by an American family] thinks of me, if she remembers the day I came to the world, and I wonder if she loved me"....

At that moment, Vera and I looked at each other and shared a moment of understanding and exchange...

Vera must have thought, "Wow, maybe my daughter thinks of me...maybe she will think of me on Wednesday during her birthday party wherever she is"....

I was thinking, "Wow, maybe my birth mother thinks of me...maybe she cries on my birthday like Vera...maybe she wonders where I am"...

Although quite personal for both Vera and I, this moment of mutual understanding and reaching out soothed each of our respective wounds.

Vera's case, and my case, is quite common in Colombia and particularly with street girls. The pregnancy rate amongst youth sex workers is staggering and the majority do not end up raising their children directly (they are either seized by the state or raised by relatives and then follow similar street life patterns).

Those children who are fortunate enough to be adopted (such as myself) are extracted from situations of socio-economic and familial strife (among many other devastating contexts) and are given opportunities many worlds removed from the everyday reality of street girls.

Only a minimal percentage of girls will make it over the barbed wires binding so many within street life, exploitation, and social exclusion...such as the beneficiaries of la Fundación Social Fenix, which provides a peer-led support structure psychologically, professionally, and academically to young women to pursue higher education in the social sciences or health-care fields (with the long-term objective and commitment to work as professionals within vulnerable and excluded street communities).

Mother-daughter dynamics are often complicated and the context of adoptees is no exception...

Fantasies about how things would have been or how things could be is a common theme that I come across in my fieldwork...

I talked with a young street girl who was convinced that she saw her mother on television begging for her daughter back (when in reality she had been seized by the state and lived in institutions most of her life and has no contact with her family). She was also on some sort of acid trip...but this still demonstrates how deeply the sense of longing and abandonment are ingrained within her mind.

Another girl once told me about the Christmas feast she enjoyed with her mother and family - when in reality she spent the night of December 24th in the streets of la 'L'.

These fantasies are devastating and when listening to the girls I often do not know how to respond. If these images are the one slice of happiness street girls have to hold on to, who am I to stomp on them with a reality check?

Practically living within the world of street girls during this period of fieldwork has been a reality check for me...it has helped me value the opportunities I was given through adoption, the family I have, the maternal love I have received all my life, and the privilege of returning to Bogotá to work with girls in the streets, rather than having grown up in them....

Popular Discourse on..."Polvos a $3 mil!" (Get off for 3000 pesos!)

2010-03-02T22:16:00.000-08:00

I noticed this article today after leaving one of the Hip-Hop for Change workshops (one of the side projects that constitutes part of the community action component of my research) with some of the 'toughest' and 'roughest' (in an endearing sense) street girls I work with in la 'L' (one of the heaviest drug zones of Bogotá and what is left of 'el Cartucho,' which once spanned more than 5 blocks north-south and 4 blocks east-west and has since been replaced by the family- and community-centered 'Parque Tercer Milenio' - a case of what I call spatial cleansing...part of an effort to eliminate deviant populations from urban space)...

The hip-hop workshop is held in IDIPRON's (a governmental program working with street youth) only day center for homeless women, including minors. (Note: there are dozens of day centers for male youth within the same program for street youth in Bogotá). For illustrative purposes, I must add that these shelters are referred to as 'patios', which also, according to one of the girls I work with, within 'street vocabulary' refers to jail space or particular areas within a prison.

After the workshop, I stopped to make a phone call and noticed two men glued to the cover story photographed above, which was hanging from a post on the corner's empanada and cigarette stand. One of the men dressed in overall pants (probably an employee of the car wash locale next to the 'patio') and the other in a business suit - which ironically represents the contrast of clientele in the prostitution zone of Bogotá...

At this moment there were several things going through my mind:

1) In addition to exhibiting the bodies of sex workers in a circus-like fashion, this cover story is sending more clients directly to the zone in order to get their polvo for 3 mil pesos (the equivalent of one dollar and some change depending on the 'exchange' rate...in both the sexual and international financial market sense of the word)...

2) I might as well buy the paper to get it off the corner...

3) What will others around me think/assume as they see me buying the newspaper?

After some minutes of reflection, I began to see firsthand that popular discourse surrounding street girls and sex workers in the streets of Santa Fé and other parts of the center of Bogotá matters for the manner in which they are viewed and (dis)valued within society.

If it is acceptable to photograph and (dis)play these 3 bodies (as if they are plastic, nameless figures in urban space) and then hang them for sale (again) as if El Espacio (the tabloid newspaper) were somehow involved in the 'pimping structure'...hmmm....now that I think of it.....

I'll leave you with this....when the girls left the 'patio' at 3 p.m. today (they enter at 7 a.m. to wash their clothes, have a warm meal, participate in workshops or sleep on concrete until its time to hit the streets again until dawn), I imagine at least one passed this cover story (as it is hanging half a block from the exit on Avenida Caracas where most of the girls will cross to return to la 'L')....

What crossed her mind in that moment?

"Oh great! Perhaps I'll have work today"...or perhaps, she will leave the 'patio' motivated to write more lyrics on her corner in la 'L' before it gets dark (perhaps the final paragraph of the song we are writing in the hip-hop workshop), she will pass this article, see how she has been labeled, and then think..."Nah, what for?...I will never be more than someone's polvo for 3 mil"...

One of the central points of street outreach is to undue this mindset and fight against or disarm the disempowering effects of popular discourse on street girls' everyday lives...to work with girls to recognize their self-worth, to envision a future beyond paying the night's 'pieza' (motel/brothel room) and consumption (often with alcohol or drugs prioritized over food)...Part of this process, perhaps, should involve the (re)naming of spaces in which street girls feel safe (i.e., the 'patio')?

I therefore argue that in addition to working within and against the social and spatial context reproducing and reinforcing the exclusion of many street girls, it is necessary to identify and deconstruct (vis-a-vis street outreach, sensibility/awareness training in hospitals, brothels..., etc.) the discursive context that breaks down the positive work and peer-leader inspired change occuring within the community...

The power of empathy in street/life

2010-02-23T18:11:00.000-08:00

--
I find myself perplexed by the intertwined walkways of streetwork and everyday life...
--

"He gave it to me...he did it to me...he took it from me...I understand how you feel," he said, "...in the pit of your stomach when those memories surface"..."When they are so vivid that you can't think straight...that words do not form correctly...that sentences are difficult to put together coherently...that everything around you is a blur...a snapshot in time...muffled voices...blank faces"..."I understand what it feels like to want to escape...to the point of standing on a ledge without even realizing you were that close to falling until you are back safely inside"...

Next time you may not be so lucky - there may not be people around to reach out and catch you...

The strength of those around me sometimes overpowers me and smacks me in the face with self reflection - I often fight moments of paralysis and/or catharsis spurred by the pain that comes knocking at my door or at times lies by my side...

Sometimes those who are closest to us get close for a reason...a feeling...a moment of solidarity....of empathy...understanding...shared experience...sometimes we don't even realize until it is staring us in the face...and then it all makes sense...

I have found this to be true as much in street outreach as in my everyday life in Bogotá - although the two are difficult to separate...I have found that the people who surround me now (at home and in the streets) have similar strengths, sensitivities, and wounds albeit unrecognizable at the surface level...

I am therefore trying to keep my ethnographic eye/'I' that much more alert to the feelings of those around me...to the reaction or suspicions I may have when I sense the lump in someone else's throat (almost as if it were my own)...

These days I find myself thinking more as a street girl than as the person who arrived to conduct doctoral research in Bogotá 15 months ago...

I see this as part of the process of adapting one's positionality to enter ethically into the research context and to operationalize or ground an 'ethics of care'...an ethics that implies actually caring about those we work with (as activists) and write with/for (as academics) - although these roles are interdependent and constantly evolving...

The Difficulties of Participatory Action Research (PAR)

2010-02-08T16:59:00.000-08:00

Participation - Action - Research....what's the proper order?

Those of us who embark on the journey of PAR have identified a community, population, policy or general issue area within which we desire to effect change or inspire some sort of action that helps those at stake - thereby making ACTION the most important element of PAR.

Focusing on one element of PAR, however, comes at the expense of others... and often this reality is difficult to swallow when attempting to balance the ethical, activist and academic motivations of one's project.

Sometimes I come home from the field foggy brained (either from a prolonged conversation with a girl sniffing glue or from the creepy glares of desperate clients) and with barely enough energy to take off my shoes (let alone type up fieldnotes or update my blog). Forcing myself to sit in my office, I find myself spending more time staring at the maps and scrabbled field jottings all over the walls instead of writing something academic.

I am working closely with two girls from 'la Mariposa' who have now become important research actors within the project. Yesterday, they told me to take a day off - to go home after my workshop in the morning and not go to the streets or accept phone calls - ...'empty your head Amy...,' they said. Obviously, they have taken note of my burnout...On a personal level, I feel a bit embarrassed but at the same time note our growth as a team. In this work, action also hinges on taking care of yourself in order to ensure the constancy of the care ethics underpinning and fueling the drive of community projects.

Motivate participation, construct sustainable structures of care and action, conduct research and maintain the sharpness of your ethnographic eye, respond consistently to the needs of other research actors and community members... As one person...what impact do I really have?

As time passes I feel frustrated, sad, angry...a whole host of emotions...is that selfish? New girls appear on the streets each day accompanied by distinct dilemmas and devastating life stories...but I have found that looking beyond the statistics and disempowering discourse (i.e., a recent analysis released to the press by the Secretary of Health reporting staggering numbers of HIV in youth populations below the age of 14 - click here to see last week's El Tiempo article) and focusing on the positive movements of some girls who are actually making it off the streets - who are claiming their right to access health services - who have entered to finish high school - who are planning baby showers instead of sniffing glue to escape the reality of pregnancy - who are participating in the empowerment of peers to take similar paths...can lift spirits and fuel further action...

Expendable Bodies in Bogotá's streetscape

2009-11-09T20:39:00.001-08:00

Walking home from the field tonight, I came across a mannequin in the trash...a thoughtless, end-of-business-day act of placing unwanted or useless objects in the trash in order to clean up the work space (or make room for less-battered or even live models)...

I felt compelled to capture this image in urban space and time (despite the pouring rain and potential risk of taking out my camera)...

Words are unnecessary in this entry. The image itself depicts the story of Santa Fé and the violent socio-spatial context in which gendered bodies are immersed, exploited and disposed of without a second thought.

This scene is located 2 blocks east of 'la Mariposa' (one of my field sites) and roughly 10 blocks from Santa Fé (another field site).

In Memory of Wanda Fox: Líder Trans - Barrio Santa Fé, 1975-2009

2009-10-30T12:33:00.000-07:00

{Photo of Wanda provided by la -Fundación Procrear- in el barrio Santa Fé}

Read more about the murder of Wanda Fox and the pain felt by other community members in her absence: -http://fundacionprocrear.org/index.php-

I received a text message from one of the girls this morning..."Amiga...Wanda is gone...she was shot five times last night [October 29, 2009]...we are so sad...all of us...and at the same time very scared." I almost dropped the phone and then burst into tears...tears for the loss of a friend, tears for the loss of an energetic and empathetic community activist working to inform other trans sex workers about their rights and safe practices, tears of rage just thinking of the person/people [according to various street informants - a combination of corrupt police & paramilitary] who committed such a hateful crime against humanity...

Two of the girls came over today ( I refer to all research actors [aka participants] in terms with which they identify - these particular girls form part of the youth transgender community in Santa Fé). I invited them for lunch so that we could process the murder of Wanda Fox in a private context outside of 'the zone of tolerance.'

After cooking lunch and drinking our tinto (coffee) awkwardly, we started to look at photos of Wanda and talk about the good times we shared...practicing for the -Zona Trans- dance performance, making collages about sexual empowerment and identity, parchando (a form of street outreach developed by la Fundación Procrear) in the trans sector of the prostitution zone...At times we sat in silence because I was paralyzed with rage and could not form words to express my sorrow and empathy...

One of the girls showed me a poem she wrote in memory of Wanda...the other talked about receiving a flyer (tucked neatly under her hotel [pay-per-day apartment] door) threatening the lives of people on the streets....turns out to be the same flyer I posted in my last blog entry....yes, this is social cleansing in Santa Fé...

Wanda's death symbolizes hatred of deviance...of that which is different...of girls selling bodies...of the moral panic surrounding bodily transformation and sexual identities that erase boundaries and challenge the normative structure of Colombian society...

Perhaps those who killed Wanda did so because of their ('sinful'/'fatal') attraction to her (and their inability to control/explain/justify it)?

As Wanda often said, "No nos ponemos tetas para que nos llamen señor" {We don't get tits for them to call us sir} and "Queremos que dejen de reconocernos por LAS P Y P, queremos otras oportunidades que no sean las de Puta o Peluquera" {We want to be seen for more than the P and P, we want other opportunities besides prostitution and hairdressing} (quotes posted by Jhon Jairo Pinzon, Fundación Procrear: -see Jhon's story-).

Wanda Fox was shot five times on Thursday from a moving taxi...she was standing with a group of friends and was the only one targeted. Wanda died in hospital Santa Clara upon arrival...Katherine Noriega (another trans sex worker) was killed on the same street four days earlier...

Instead of public outcry surrounding hate crime, local news reports served only to essentialize the streets of Santa Fé, the deviance of transgender bodies and behavior, and the violence within the community (not against it)....

Wanda...may your social purpose live on through those you have touched and fill the gap of your presence felt by so many...

Discursive Violence - Removing Street Girls from Public Space

2009-09-11T16:30:00.000-07:00

SOCIAL CLEANSING in the streets of Bogotá...I obtained a copy of this flyer (threatening to eliminate deviant populations from public spaces in the city) from one of the girls I am working with in la Mariposa (the butterfly), a plaza located in the center of Bogotá formally named la Plaza San Victorino.

I am currently investigating the implications of this violent discursive context on street girls’ everyday lives and ability to move around and merely ‘be present’ in certain spaces throughout the city....

An important part of understanding and representing the lives of street girls hinges on discerning the discourses surrounding them (i.e., how they are named – street children, street girls, prostitutes, victims [of sexual exploitation], sex workers, etc.)....

Notions of naming and framing the street girl population also raise questions as to who counts as a ‘street girl’?...according to whom?...by what definition? What of youth, transgender sex workers who identify as girls, spend the majority of their days and nights in the streets, and occupy the same spaces as other street girls in the prostitution zone and my study sites?

The attached flyer clearly represents a direct threat to the lives of so-called 'street girls' and other street populations targeted in this recent wave of social cleansing....

What is my ethical responsibility as a researcher and activist in response to this potential risk to the research population?

Women's Bodies and Women's Rights in Santa Fé: Can they co-exist?

2009-05-04T23:34:00.000-07:00

...or perhaps the question is really moralistic...should or how can they co-exist?

Walking down 22nd street to one of my study sites in Santa Fé, I pass at least two significant social messages inscribed in the urban landscape surrounding women's rights, equality and empowerment.

The first image is a state-sponsored flyer posted on the back of a candy and cigarette stand. The flyer speaks out to attentive pedestrians: - Mujeres!!! Stand firm in your rights...take off your masks...don't sell yourself short... -

A few blocks down 22nd and it's a totally different story: - Mujeres!!!! Stand firm in your tights...put on your pink, glittery masks...sell yourself for what you can get... -

The second image stands even closer to the 'zone of tolerance' (where sex workers are tolerated as long as they stay in their deviant spaces)...On the corner of Caracas and 22nd, the banner on a wall mural reads - "Equality to plant dignity...woman as the seed of liberty"... - These mural images of empowerment seem to reach out and wave across the main thoroughfare (Avenida Caracas) to all those found on the 'other side'.... the other side of Caracas where the zone of tolerance begins and 'normalcy' ends....where the mujer is no longer dignified in the eyes of mainstream 'Rololandia' (Bogotá) ....where the line between sex work and sexual exploitation shifts by the second depending on who is watching/being watched and touching/being touched.

Can bodies and rights be sold in the same space without contradicting one another?

For whom does this mural of dignity truly stand?

Does the government's yellow stamp of approval (see right corner of mural) signify change or hypocrisy?

Facing the depths of social and spatial exclusion in places such as Santa Fé and 'la Mariposa' takes more than inscribing positive images in urban space vis-a-vis mural art or a program flyer, which with time become merely frozen moments of activism that fade into/become part of the everyday/ordinary urban landscape....(for example, apparently selling minutos [cell phone minutes] for 200 pesos became more important than conserving the integrity of women's rights [see left corner of flyer]).

Acts of reaching out should be generated by organized human efforts towards social inclusion (i.e., the Fenix Model of street outreach)...not fictive images that effect further exclusion and demarcate spaces of deviance and disapproval.

The ethnographic eye/'I' and vulnerable observation

2009-04-14T08:44:00.000-07:00

Observation: the ethnographic eye

“Our methodology, defined by the oxymoron ‘participant observation’, is split at the root: act as a participant, but don’t forget to keep your eyes open. Lay down in the mud in Colombia. Put your arms around Omaira Sanchez. But when the grant money runs out, or the summer vacation is over, please stand up, dust yourself off, go to your desk, and write down what you saw and heard. Relate it to something you’ve read by Marx, Weber, Gramsci, or Geertz and you’re on your way to doing anthropology” (Behar 1997: 5).

During my first days working in the streets, all I could see were the external, corporeal aspects of youth sex work...bare skin, exposure...private parts (as typically constructed) made public and commoditized... distant, glazed eyes hiding behind masks of pink, glittery make-up and accessories...empty smiles seeping with shoe glue and quickly fading after the 15-second high subsides and upon re-entrance into their bodies and spatial contexts/street corners....

In providing a so-called 'thick description' of my initial observations of street girls, what have I achieved? In attempting to re-present these young bodies and images, has my ethnographic prose accomplished nothing more than further dehumanization? Is it ethical to leave my words (and representations) subject to re-appropriation and re-subjugation in new and equally exploitative contexts?

One way of addressing these preoccupations surrounding how to re-present Others is, as Behar tells us, through the concept of vulnerability and giving an account of oneSelf.... with the ultimate objective of leveling the social field between self/other; researcher/researched; insider/outsider....

Exposure: the ethnographic 'I'

“Vulnerability doesn’t mean that anything personal goes. The exposure of the self who is also a spectator has to take us somewhere we couldn’t otherwise get to. It has to be essential to the argument, not a decorative flourish, not exposure for its own sake. It has to move us beyond the eclipse into inertia...in which we find ourselves identifying so intensely with those whom we are observing that all possibility of reporting is arrested, made inconceivable. It has to persuade us of the wisdom of not leaving the writing pad blank…a personal voice, if creatively used, can lead the reader, not into miniature bubbles of navel-gazing, but into the enormous sea of serious social issues” (Behar 1997: 14).

How much is too much?