In the Closet in Morocco and Some Poor Decisions

– A Volunteer

License Some rights reserved by lapidim

Some rights reserved by lapidim

To be absolutely honest, upon receiving my assignment to serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco, I was so super excited to a point that words can’t explain it all. It was especially welcome since I had been waiting so long to hear the good news from PC’s placement office. I was so excited that I forgot, or should I say it never occurred to me, to look up what the gay scene was like in Morocco, a Muslim country. All I could think at the time, since I only had a few months before my departure, was to find ways to make myself become an effective volunteer to ensure that my time spent serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer would be worthwhile toward the people that I would serve.

Having that said, since I discovered my sexuality, I have never placed an important emphasis on it. I mean, yes indeed, my sexuality is a very important aspect of my overall life. It’s who I am! But at the same time, I refused to have others associate with me with just my sexuality or those who don’t seem to see past my sexuality. To me there is so much more to people that defines who they are as a person than just his or her sexuality.

Once I arrived to Morocco with about 60 other PCVs, I discovered that only a handful of us self-identified as LGBTQ. For the first few months in-country, overwhelmed with all sort of things, I never really thought about my sexuality in the context (now) in a Muslim country, or the gay scene, or my needs for that matter. But before I even knew it, I realized that I was lonely and missed the privileged lifestyle and the freedom of acting and expressing myself and my sexuality freely back in the States. I thought I had it tough growing up discovering my sexuality and all sorts of feelings and emotions overwhelmed my mind, realizing my self- identity, my sexuality, and coming out to certain individuals. Don’t get me wrong, I did in fact have a really hard time. However, compared to gays here in Morocco, they do have a tougher time of it. Like anywhere else, there are people from all sexual backgrounds. It’s just that gays in Morocco like in other Muslim countries have it a lot tougher in so many ways.
I will be completely honest with you based on my experience for the past 22 months. Yes, Morocco is indeed a more liberal Muslims country; however, it’s still a Muslim country, where gays and the act of gay are forbidden. For that reason, gays in Morocco are forced to suppress themselves and their feelings freely toward one another. I can speak from my own experience with honesty. I feel like I have been living a lie and not being true to myself as well as others, especially with the people I’m serving.

Moreover, PC staff during training had given us the worst case scenario about how homosexuals are perceived in Morocco. They placed an emphasis on if we get caught in a gay sexual activity, or drug use, we would be in big trouble. We as PCVs would then have to abide by Moroccan’s laws. We might be put in jail for up to three years without support from PC, the US Embassy, or anyone to that matter. It’s definitely a scary thought! It has got us all worried and scared for our lives, safety and security. Because of that we would have to take ourselves back in the closet at least for the next two years of our service. It’s definitely a sad feeling, serving a country for two years, and the people don’t know the true you. My host family as well as the majority of the people in this country would condemn me to hell if they would find out about the true me. This scary thought has crossed my mind almost everyday of my service.

Gays, especially those who are more effeminate, are often forced to hide themselves for their own protection and for safety reasons. If a male PCV is suspected of being gay, he’s often looked down upon by his community, and his reputation, safety and security will be at risk. Given that my site with a fairly large population is a more liberal site, it’s still a Muslim community. Having that said, I can’t come out to my community, even to my close friends and my host family who I love dearly. They are disgusted by homosexuals and the act of gays, as they have pointed out to me multiple times over conversations we’ve had, yet they’ve also expressed that they are very open-minded people. I know it’s quite confusing. I guess it’s just not in their culture to accept homosexuality. I know religion surely plays a big part in this mentality and ways of thinking. It also, to my belief, restricts people from thinking and expressing freely for themselves.

I would like to think that I am very integrated into my community. However, often times I would feel so out of place because of my sexuality and how it doesn’t fit so well in this Muslim culture and society. Yes, given that Morocco is and might be a more liberal/tolerant Muslim country in some perspectives comparing to other Muslims’ societies, I still often feel un-at-ease and have constant worries for my safety and security if someone in my community were to find out about my sexuality. It, to some degree, affects my integration process in terms of getting to know people and being close with them to the best that I can and vice-versa. For instance, I would almost always have to be careful, think twice, and be cautious about myself with others, and I think that totally affects my relationship with them. For example, often times a good friend, among others, would invite me over for dinner. I would refuse and turned them down because I feared their getting to know me too well.

I would always have to be careful about how I talk, speak, act, and overall how I presented myself in front of my community, even with the closest people in my community, my host family. I’ve never been good at lying. Hence, it’s extremely uncomfortable when asked by my host family, close friends, and community members at large about my love life, whether I have a girlfriend, or if I want a local girlfriend. When local girls hit on me, I honestly don’t know how to react. And when I try to avoid them, people would ask what’s wrong with me? And when I find local male friends attractive (even if my gaydar might highly suspected that they might be gay), I can’t expressed anything to them because I fear putting my reputation at risk.

I know I was never big on celebrating my gay pride back in the States, but it’s an extreme here, where I would have to hide my true self and identity, each and every moments of every day of my service, and having a constant fear of people seeing the rainbow flag in me. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, and hope that the next day will be better.

Sometimes my loneliness, my so-called needs, and desire to be with somebody have gotten the best of me and have led me to do things that I would never wish to revisit. I mean I have never really thought about the people that I met up with were gay prostitutes and thugs, or even that they can cause harm and danger to me. During my service thus far, I have made some bad decisions with hooking up with local men where I put my safety and security at risk. I’ve been assaulted and my belongings taken from me. It was definitely a scary moment, but it could have been a lot worse. All I could think of afterward, beside the fact that I was scared for my life and scared to notify PC, was to realize how naïve I could be. I could have gotten myself killed in a worst case scenario. However I was lucky and I’m grateful for that. I have definitely learned from it the hard way. It’s just that at times, it can get lonely and I wish somebody would be there to cope, share, and spend time with. Moreover, I remember when I was hanging out with a fellow PCV and some locals at a park in Rabat. All of a sudden, the fellow PCV and one of the locals got stopped, questioned, and hustled off to the police station by some undercover policemen. It seems as if we have no rights in this country.

On the other side of things, I have accidently stumbled across some hush-hush of discrete gay activity in big cites like Rabat, Fez, Meknes, and Casablanca. It is here I have had some beautiful encounters with some really nice and genuine local men as well as with other PCVs. It is on the hush-hush staying with a low profile, because I didn’t want to put my reputation at risk in my community or jeopardize my safety and security while in-country during my service. Other than that, there isn’t really any gay scene to speak of in Morocco. There aren’t any outlets for gays. There’s one gay-friendly club I know of, Le Village, located in the Ain Diab district of Casablanca, but it’s very expensive.

As gay volunteers, we often get mixed messages from Moroccan guys. Guys in general in this society are very affectionate and show their affection towards each other somewhat freely. They often hold hands when walking in public, kiss each other on the cheek, and caress each other. This is absolutely normal in their culture, like it is some other places in the world. It’s just that a lot of these actions would often in our society be perceived as the behaviors of homosexuals.

Honestly, I don’t know if I were to have had a chance to search and look up the gay scene in Morocco to have prior knowledge and insight of what it’s like to serve as a gay Peace Corps Volunteer in a Muslim country prior to coming, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. But maybe it would have, but the feelings of loneliness, being out of place, constant worries about my safety and security, would still have been a factor after I got here.

In closure, despite some of my difficult experiences, I have had memorable moments and outings with local gay men as well as with my fellow gay PCVs. We bonded and shared some beautiful times with each other. One instance which I least expected, involved an extremely attractive PCV who has a genuine and charismatic soul). Let just say, it was a very beautiful experience that I will never forget.

Given that I have had some difficult and challenging situations, I’ve dealt with them in a manner that was most comfortable and suitable for me. I’d made the decision not to report my problems to Peace Corps, but I did reach out to fellow PVCs for moral support. They were extremely helpful. Despite some bad experiences, I did not allow them to affect my service. I’ve learned that I’ve been living in a very different culture, but this could have happened anywhere in the Peace Corps world. Therefore, I’ve dealt with these problems, and learn from them and overcome the challenges. Overall, I have had a good experience. I find my service both very pleasurable and rewarding. I have met interesting people from a different part of the world and from all walks of life.

Anyhow, in a nutshell, that’s my life as a gay Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco.

You can contact this volunteer at

Lesbians Non-Existent in Tonga?

– Peace Corps Volunteer

Tonga Flag

Tonga Flag

To start, I want to comment on how much I appreciated LGBT RPCVs and Brian Favorite’s three articles on Fakaletis (men who live and dress as women) in Tonga. The fact that the LGBT community is embraced by the Peace Corps and that a forum exists gave me much-needed support before accepting my invitation. I hope this contribution will also be helpful for somebody else considering serving in the Peace Corps.

Now, here is a little about me and my life here in Tonga.

I am in my mid-twenties, identify as queer/lesbian and have dreamed about being a Peace Corps Volunteer since I was a kid and pronounced the “s” at the end of Corps. I am currently living on the main island known as Tongatapu and serving as a TEFL teacher in my village’s government primary school. I have been living here for about five months now and am still learning so much about my new community.

For those of you who have read Brian Favorite’s articles, you will know that Tonga is very conservative and Christian. I jokingly compare Tonga to a conservative, southern town in America. There are churches on almost every corner (and then some), filial piety and respect of elders is paramount, and homosexuality is taboo. According to the laws here in Tonga, homosexual acts are illegal. However, Fakaletis generally are not seen as gay. Therefore, they tend to “slip through the (legal) cracks”. In Tonga, there are only male Fakaletis and no known female equivalent to the sub-culture.

When I read the details about Tonga from the infamous blue invitation packet, I was concerned by three things. One: Lesbians are a non-existent group here in Tonga. Two: Female PCVs in Tonga have felt uncomfortable by some Tongan men’s unwanted advances. Three: Tongans can be intrusively curious people. These three facts didn’t bode well for me, an openly gay and proudly feminist woman.

As with most scary things, a lot was built up in my mind before arriving to Tonga that was unwarranted. While all three concerning facts are true, it is completely manageable to be happy here. For starters, if you serve in the Peace Corps, inevitably some behaviors will have to be toned down out of respect to your community. It doesn’t mean you have to agree with these rules, but there is a sort of unwritten expectation of compromise. To me one compromise is “if you don’t go around talking about your girlfriend or have obvious same-sex relationships with women, we will stay out of your business”. Another helpful tactic is to use the Tongan gender-neutral term for girlfriend/boyfriend, kaumea. I have been asked by all sorts of Tongans if I was married or if I had a kaumea. When I was in a relationship, I would reply in Tongan in the affirmative. Easy peasy.

With this being said, I certainly do feel a sense of diminished freedom in Tonga. While my PCV group and some of the Peace Corps/Tonga staff know that I am gay, there is a feeling of isolation. Most of my friends from America are LGBT. Currently in Tonga, I am the only openly gay person that I know of. That fact is tough. When I go out with my friends here, I know that I can’t meet or date women. Since many are too shy to say it, I will: two years of celibacy sounds really daunting.

In closing, if you are a LGBT Peace Corps applicant, trainee, or nominee and are feeling weary, it is okay. The staff will be very accepting and will provide you with the support you need to adjust to your new life. There will be times where you feel completely out of place, but other volunteers will be just as supportive of you as you are with them. In all likelihood, other people in your community and Peace Corps groups are feeling the exact same way. Good luck!

This volunteer can be contacted at

LGBT Ally Training in Paraguay

– Manuel Colon, former PCV

PC Paraguay (Jopara)

On Friday, November 2, 2012, Peace Corps – Paraguay hosted its first ever LGBT ally training with 16 participants, volunteers and staff, in attendance. The training comes as a response to the 2011 all volunteer survey (AVS) that stated roughly 25% of the incidents of harassment received by volunteers as a result of their sexual orientation came from either volunteer peers or staff. Peace Corps Headquarters is currently in the process of creating a training packet to address this issue specifically, but has yet to release anything more than the outline. Jopara, Paraguay’s volunteer diversity group, decided to step in and move forward with organizing and facilitating the training instead. Topics covered in the training included facts and history of LGBT events and legislation, correct terminology usage, a guided experience of the coming out process, and an overview of the in-country LGBT resources. Upon termination of the training, all participants were awarded “safe space” stickers to be placed anywhere of their choosing (desks, doors, notebooks, etc) to communicate their dedication as an ally to the LGBT community.

LGBT Resources in Paraguay

LGBT Resources in Paraguay



  • República De Colombia 141 C/ Yegros.
  • (21) 495802, (+595) 981 616 203
  • Mon-Th 14:00 to 22:00 Fri. and Sat. 14:00 to 00:00
  • Marcha de Orgullo, Besaton
  • Their center functions as a temporary relief shelter for LGBT youth who are homeless, they offer HIV screenings, and a general space to be rented for events


Aireana- lesbian organization

  • Eligio Ayala 907 entre EEUU y Tacuary
  • 21 447976
  • La Serafina Bar, Friday night events, Feminist Conferences, Radio Show, Marcha para la Igualdad, LesBiGayTrans Festival de Cine

Panambi- Trans community

Grupo Ñepyru- Trans community and people living with HIV

  • O’leary 177 c/Cap. Carmelo Peralta y Padrea Molas, Cnl. Oveido
  • 0521200059
  •  Services and focus: HIV screenings and education, human rights

Todo Mejora- Paraguay- entire LGBT community

  • Facebook page and YouTube account
  • A project that offers resources and support to LGBT youth
  • Offers a collection of videos on YouTube from LGBT Paraguayans sending messages of hope and support to LGBT youth for the future

LGBT Friendly Spaces

Babylon Dance

  • Dance club and bar
  • 760 25 de Mayo c/ Tacuari

Hollywood Dance

  • Dance Club
  • Independencia Nacional c/ Teniente Farina
  • 0982.488.652

Frogus Karaoke Gay

  • Estrella 852 entre Montevideo & Juan de Ayolas

La Serafina

  • Feminist Safe Space with Books, Internet, Space to Hang Out
  • Monday-Friday 9am-12pm and 1pm-5pm/Converted into a restaurant + bar and event space on Friday nights 8pm-1am
  • Eligio Ayala 907 c/Tacuary
  • 0921.447.976

Peace Corps – Paraguay Resources

Peace Corps Medical Officers/Counselors/ Security Officer

Jopara, Volunteer Diversity Group

Peer Support Network

You can contact Manuel at

Guarding My Sexuality in Botswana

– A Peace Corps Volunteer

The other day a fellow PCV invited me to an LGBT pool party coming up in Gaborone, the capital. This was strange to me to begin with because I don’t know any locals who are members of the LGBT community. My village is very small and very remote. And considering the climate in my area regarding issues of homosexuality, I am not out as a gay man. Since Botswana is very small (only 2 million people) I am always somewhat on guard to make sure I don’t accidentally out myself, because word travels fast.

For me this has been easily the most difficult part of my service. Back in the United States I was a very vocal advocate for LGBT issues. I first started coming out to people when I was 15. During my time in college I was the head of the GSA on our campus and the Diversity Committee of our Student Senate. So feeling the need to head back into the closet has been challenging to say the least. Nowadays the only time I mention anything related to being gay outside of my contact with other PCVs is when talking about respect and social responsibility towards all people with the kids I work with. Even then I still distance myself from my own orientation. I always lead off with, “I have friends back in the US who are…”

At times I feel that I am closing off a part of me, and that does make it harder to have friendships with the people in my community. When I am hanging out with teachers from the school, or the nurses over at the health post the conversation often drifts to, “Why aren’t you dating anyone? Did you have a girlfriend you left in the US?” And so on. So while I can have good conversations with people, eventually it leads back to me having to lie yet again, and keep guarding myself.

There has only been one instance during my service that caused me severe discomfort, and even some fear, regarding being gay here. I was at a multi-day event and one of the teenage girls had told another PCV that she was a lesbian. The PCV asked if I would be willing to talk to her since the girl had a lot of questions she was unable to answer. There were many reasons in my head why I should not do it, all of them concerning self-preservation of my hidden identity. First of all, with how small Botswana is, if word got out the people back home would probably know I was gay before I even showed up back there. Secondly, the girl lived in my shopping village, so there was a chance I would run into her often.

Despite this I decided to go ahead with the conversation. I came to Botswana to help people, and this was a way that I was uniquely qualified to give help. She mostly was looking for advice on how to talk to her family about being a lesbian. She was already out to a few friends, so I told her to use them for support, and also not to feel rushed to tell her family if she wasn’t ready. All in all it seemed to go pretty well.

In the next few days that girl ended up telling some other event facilitators that she was a lesbian. As soon as I had heard about this from the other facilitators I grew quite nervous since I was not sure if she had told them about me as well. From what I was able to gather from her, she did not. There is still the chance that she could tell people somewhere down the road, which is a risk I knew I was taking, but one I felt necessary to try and help her out.

I still think that at any day people here could start to figure out I am gay. Not only because of that event, but also because I have started to become closer with my co-workers to the point where I even have a few of them on Facebook (which considering some of the things I post is a big deal). I have even lately been considering telling some of them who I am closest to. Yet, I have not quite reached that point, and until then I am completely isolated in my village regarding even people to talk to about being gay.

But I do have a friend who lives much closer to the capital. She has LGBT friends (mostly people of other cultures working here). They have movie nights, and other events aimed at bringing LGBT people in Botswana together. In a sense Botswana is 2 different worlds. In the bigger areas, and especially the capital, you can go around fairly unnoticed. This means you can find other LGBT people and not have to worry about censoring yourself all the time. But in the remote areas, you are lucky if you are able to walk to the tuck shop without stopping and talking for a minute with at least 5 different people.

And for me, I am starting to meet some more LGBT people. I did end up going to that pool party in Gaborone. And to my big surprise (since I thought I would never even be able to talk about it during my time in Botswana at all) I actually met someone there who I am now seeing regularly. And while our relationship is very under the radar (although several of my PC friends know) it is still liberating to be able to express that part of myself.

So I think I would have to say that Botswana has some LGBT culture, but unless you are posted to a large area you may not find it that easily. And while yes, being gay in Botswana can be very challenging, the work we do here is very rewarding. I have tough days, when I just want to go home and beat my head against the wall, but ultimately the work I do with the youth in my community is more important to me than my discomfort about closeting myself. After having been here a year, I can say you get a little more comfortable about covering your orientation, and that I have made small headway with at least being able to talk about homosexuality with some people in my community, though always devoid of personal identification.

All in all though, I am actually very grateful to be a gay male in Botswana, even if I am closeted. This experience has taught me much more about myself, my limitations, and my strengths and has caused me to appreciate how much I have grown. I would say to anyone that don’t let being a member of the LGBT community stop you from engaging in challenging situations, at the very least you will learn a lot from it.

You can contact the author at

Peace Corps Service and Finding a Partner in Honduras

– Erica Brien and Camila Fiero, RPCVs

Erica and Camila at Boston Pride

Erica’s Story:
Being openly gay as a Peace Corps Volunteer was, for me, impossible. I lived in a community of 300-people in the mountains of Comayagua, Honduras. Upon my arrival, I spent days visiting the homes and getting to know the families that lived in them. I was given incredible amounts of coffee, what amounted to loaves of sweet-bread, hundreds of tortillas and plenty of beans. When I left these homes to head back to my host-family’s home, I was given freshly-laid eggs to take with me. As time went on, I spent the majority of my days in my small town simply getting to know these people. They opened up to me. We talked about so many things. I remember having discussions about the meaning of life, the truth of an inevitable death, the importance of family, love and the many existences of god. We obviously talked about the state of the community, the hopes people had for the future. We would talk about the world and where it is headed. Families would invite me over to make bread or tamales, depending on the time of year. Through all of this, I can truly say that I grew close to many of my community members. However, nonetheless, there was one thing that I knew we could never talk about, one thing they could never know: my sexuality.

The people in my community took religion very seriously. All families belonged to either the Catholic Church or the Evangelical Church, and being gay was a horrible sin. There was one openly gay man of 24 years, who I will call Tio, who at times I would verbally defend when I heard other people criticize him. I’d say simple things like, “It’s okay that he is gay. It doesn’t make him a bad person.” After defending him, I would be asked by various community members to step aside to have private conversations. They would tell me, “Erica, I heard that you defended Tio, but love is between a man and a woman. You can not defend this boy for committing such a sin.”

After a trip home for the summer, I returned to my community with a new hair-cut. It was short. The Evangelical pastor, a woman who invited me frequently to her house for dinner with the family, told me she would have to pray for my soul because I went against God’s will; women are supposed to have long hair. These incidents made me realize the impossibility of being completely honest within my community. No matter how welcoming and friendly the people of my community were, no matter how fond of me they had grown to be, if I told them that I was a lesbian, I truly believe that my work would have ended right there. No one would have wanted to work with me. People would have closed up. I had to pretend I was straight. As a straight person, people accepted me. I was able to work with their kids. I was able to build great relationships, and I will say that in the end, it was worth it. For me, it was worth it to be in the closet for two years. It was worth it to sacrifice a certain part of me in order to truly make the most of a meaningful experience. However, to be able to say that I could have had the same experience as an openly gay person within a culture that does not understand the truth of human-sexuality would be naïve and a lie.

Camila’s Story:
As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I was never explicitly told to lie about my sexual orientation. Instead, I was asked to understand the culture and community I was trying to become a part of. It was more difficult than I had anticipated. Although I am from the Mid-West and have very traditional parents, I had spent the last four years at a small liberal arts college in Massachusetts and had finally learned to be proud of my sexual orientation. Thus, Honduran culture, for me, was especially difficult as it is steeped through and through in machismo and intense patriarchy. At the same time, the generosity and amiability of the people almost make up for it. About six to seven months into my service I had to be site changed from my mountain community of 300 people to a larger “rural city” community further south. A community partner had displayed some bizarre behavior that made me feel outed within the community. Thus, I felt I had to leave because the rumor mill would stop short anyone who was at one time willing to work with me. I also felt unsafe. I remember that night before I was set to leave, and I was fighting visions of people busting through my front door with the idea of “corrective rape.” I don’t personally know of any of these cases happening in Honduras, instead, people would just get killed.

In my new community I felt extremely cautious. I was constantly analyzing myself. Eventually, I got settled in and made a few close friends. I worked with a local Honduran environmental NGO and worked with other volunteers on environment classes, HIV/AIDS classes, and improved stoves projects. However, I never told any Hondurans about my orientation. Miraculously, Erica and I started dating, and I say miraculously because we never considered dating one another until it happened. We were both in the Protected Areas Management Group, which has since been cancelled and lumped together with the Business Program. Sadly, there are no current programs that have a specific goal of addressing issues such as loss of biodiversity and environmental education. We were about one year into our sites when I would go visit Erica and she would come visit me, taking turns doing the 8-hour bus ride. We both feel that we looked somewhat innocent since close friendships between females are not unheard of or frowned upon. Yet, we had no time to confirm or disprove our notions because we were evacuated about seven to eight months before our official completion of service.

The day before I left I came out to my closest friend in my community. She said she already knew and knew within the first month of meeting me! I was surprised and sad that I missed out on a deeper more honest relationship with her because I was afraid. Yet, the real tragedies are the thousands of individuals that are beaten, murdered, and subjugated because of who they love. Honduras has seen an increase in violent hate crimes, although reporting is spotty on the subject. Also, with a friend, we re-started the LGBTQ support group for volunteers in Honduras and were starting to make connections with Honduran “clubs” or support groups. Yet, that too was cut short. There has been straight forward reporting on exactly why the program was cut short: Peace Corps could no longer guarantee our safety due to the ever-escalating drug war. We have since called back to friends in Honduras who have said the situation has only gotten worse, violence is spreading and rural communities are cut off from the larger cities because the roads are too dangerous.

In the end, I think your service is what you make of it. I am proud and happy with my time spent in Honduras. However, I would caution that one shouldn’t expect to be out and shouldn’t expect understanding.

Erica Continues:
It is hard to say if people in my community ever grew suspicious of the relationship I had with Camila. She came to visit me at my site more consistently than any other volunteer. And while we tried very hard not to seem suspicious within my small-community, there were times when I questioned certain comments made by my community members. Was it all in my head? Maybe. Maybe not. I remember taking Camila to my host family’s house where my host mother gave us coffee and tried to convince me to date the family’s cousin who recently came from out of town. My host-mother would describe how nice of a man he was, and how he is different than most men. Camila would play along, saying things like, “wow, he sounds like a catch” as she would throw me a mischievous smile. Camila even took a picture of this man and me standing together outside of my host family’s home. They thought it was essential to our future together. When Camila and I would return back to my house, hiding behind the privacy of closed doors, we would talk about the same questions that today we still ponder, such as how much does “respect” and being “culturally” sensitive turn into tolerating intolerance? What is our role as queer Peace Corps Volunteers and allies in educating around sensitive subjects such as sexual orientation? How are we to facilitate change if we, ourselves, are doing our very best to uphold cultural norms? These are the questions we would like to leave with you.

You can contact Erica at  and Camila at


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 149 other followers