I wish I had an original story as to how I came about the decision to apply for the Peace Corps; some incredible encounter with a medicine man perhaps, or a mission trip to a third world country that altered the course of my life. Unfortunately I don’t have any stories like that. My encounter was perfectly ordinary, but maybe there is something beautiful in finding inspiration in normalcy.
Three years ago I had signed up for an international relations class. I took this class for two reasons: 1) It conveniently got me out of Monday night sorority meetings which meant a semester free of singing before dinner and listening to announcements about man hours, and 2) It was only once a week, which fared well with my busy schedule at the time.
My professor for this class was a ferociously intelligent grad student and former lawyer. His stern demeanor came off intimidating at first and while I willingly admit my stint at a few law firms where my duties included making coffee, writing civil war musicals (yes you read that right), purchasing dozens of pairs of socks at a time, and taking dogs to their grooming appointments, left me with a bad taste for lawyers, his passion for the subject was infectious and he had me hooked from the first lecture.
Shortly into the semester we were to write a paper on an international topic of our choosing. We were told this topic needed to be something we were passionate about because we would also be presenting the topic to the class.
Let me explain something to you. At this point in my life I was a 19 year-old white sorority girl who had lived in Nebraska her entire life. The only things I was passionate about at the time were McDoubles and cheap vodka. I had spent the previous year failing my accounting class and filing papers for post-menopausal lawyers (and that’s just the men). I couldn’t have pointed out Iraq on a map let alone muster up an international issue coherent enough for a paper topic.
We were to meet with him a few weeks prior to our paper deadline to discuss topics. I didn’t want to show up without any ideas, so I did what any red-blooded American college student in my position would do; I Googled it. I kid you not, I Googled “current international relations issue” and one of the first issues to pop up was on human trafficking. I met with him after class and threw it out as an idea. He gave me the ok and suggested the book Half the Sky.
That is when everything changed
I read about stories of women who were victims of horrible injustice. From sex slavery to female genital mutilation I learned of countless instances of oppression and torture that made me ache inside; unfathomable acts that one human being was so willing to inflict upon another.
I became consumed in the book, in my research.
The class continued. I wrote my paper with gusto, thirst-fully transitioned into my presentation, and before I knew it, the semester was over.
We received our grades via email from our professor, and I replied thanking him for a great semester and for opening my eyes to a world in which was previously incomprehensible. Actually my exact line was, “This probably sounds lame, but I think I found something I am really passionate about.” (Well said, Alecia, well said).
He, however, replied with a phrase that transformed my priorities on the spot. He said, “Being passionate about something is never lame. Here we are, on a tiny blue rock hurtling through space at thousands of miles an hour, where most of our 6 billion cohabitants suffer from outrageous injustice, and a lot of us worry mostly about getting a slightly bigger television or a car with seat warmers. That is lame.”
It would be unfair to discount the impact a number of political science professors had in my life, but this interaction was the first that opened me up to a vital realization; it is our obligation as human beings to guard and protect the hearts of others as if they were our own.
I chose to do the Peace Corps because I want to fuel my passion. I want to allow my soul to wonder. I want to experience the raw beauty of people. I want to step outrageously out of my comfort zone to achieve something greater than myself. And I want to go at least a week without hearing about the Kardashians.
It is going to be a roller coaster. I will find myself in uncomfortable situations. I will get frustrated and feel defeated. I will spend the next 2 years and 3 months living in the third poorest country in South America, speaking an indigenous language I had never even heard of until two weeks ago, and finding a balance between implementing beneficial community programs and integrating successfully into my new culture. I will call a handful of you throughout the next two years in defeated hysterics. It will be hard and I fully accept that. But “just think what this world could be if we focused not on how difficult things are, but how possible things are.”
Alecia
Peaces of Paraguay 