Where is the love?

My head has been spinning with questions since I posted the following on Facebook a couple of nights ago.

“Three bombings hit Baghdad today. One killing at least 64 and wounding more than 87 people at a market, the second killing 17 and wounding 43 others, and the third killing 12 people and wounding 31 others. Where is the turmoil? The news coverage? The temporary Facebook photos of the Iraqi flag? I understand that as Westerners, we tend to turn a blind eye to places that are unlike our own environments – but come on – Baghdad was once easily the most intellectual city of its time. Baghdad has contributed immensely to the world through the House of Wisdom, advancements in medicine, algebra, etc. It was the heart and soul of the Islamic Golden Age from the 7th-13th centuries – and now it’s one of the least hospitable places in the world to live because of the Iraqi War and countless insurgency attacks since. I pray that someday humanity will realize that whether someone is from Brussels or Beirut or Baghdad – tragedy is tragedy. Can’t we give just as much compassion towards the Iraqis today as we did to those in Brussels and Paris months ago?”

For years, I have struggled to understand why humans tend to empathize only with those who appear to relate to themselves. I mean, I get it to an extent. I can easily put myself in the shoes of most 25-year-old women in the United States or Western Europe and connect with them on some level. Clearly, we don’t all have the same experiences, but in general, I can relate. Lately, I’ve questioned my ability to relate to women my age throughout the rest of the world. I cannot sit here and act like I know what it’s like to live in extreme poverty, or have a lack of education, or live in a city that has fallen to terrorists. I’m not going to act like I’ve been through the atrocities many women face across the world, like the humiliation of female genital mutilation in Africa or the horrors of sex trafficking in Southeast Asia. No – I have not experienced anything remotely as detrimental to ones’ mental and physical health compared to the things so many men, women, and children go through on a daily basis across the globe. So how is it that I can possibly relate?

I find myself going back to three factors (in my opinion) that result in some Americans inability to relate or to empathize with others across the globe.

  • Lack of education
  • Isolationism
  • Media Coverage

How many times do you hear the phrase, “The news is too depressing, so I don’t pay attention to what it going on overseas,” because I hear it ALL OF THE TIME. Now don’t get me wrong, the news can be disheartening because frankly, humanity is scary. Lately, it appears society has gone down a path in which fear has overtaken our senses and we have decided it’s much easier to ignore problems in the world than confront them. However, education is the key to understanding the many facets of this world. Of course, for me, it’s easy to be interested in these issues because this is one of my passions. I realize that not everyone feels this way about politics, humanitarian crises, or foreign policy like I do. I don’t expect you to because we all have our own passions in life. I do believe though that it is our responsibility as citizens to familiarize ourselves with major events that occur on a daily basis despite its geographical location. The better informed we are, the better prepared we may become if we pay attention to what other societies go through. If we want to identify the root causes to the atrocities across the globe, we must take a step outside our bubbles and acknowledge the injustices in this world that inevitably lead people into desperate situations. Don’t we want the world to stop perceiving Americans as ignorant? I know I do. We are so incredibly lucky to live and thrive in a country where we have such visible freedoms. Knowledge is power – seek it, understand it, act on it.

But maybe there is more to this – maybe it’s difficult for Americans to relate to the rest of the world because they want to become isolationists again. Isolationism is based on two main beliefs – the idea that “the United States should avoid any political commitment that ties American policy and action to the policies and actions of other nations” and “the belief that the central aim of American foreign policy was to avoid foreign wars at all costs.” Can I blame Americans for wanting the country to revert back to the policies of the Monroe Doctrine and to focus more on domestic issues (mainly the economy)? Since the 1920s, our country has been in a constant state of war from World War I, to World War II, to the Cold War, to Korea, to Vietnam, to Desert Storm, to Bosnia, to Iraq and to Afghanistan. We always seem to be intervening in conflicts far from our own soil.

According to a 2013 Pew poll, 52 percent respondents believed that “the U.S should mind its own business internationally and let other countries get along the best they can on their own.” I must say, this statistic doesn’t surprise me. Is American society simply tired of this war stricken mentality that we have been faced with for decades? Do Americans choose not to engage and to ignore the tragedies that occur in non-Western countries because they don’t want to be sucked into another conflict? The United States, in a sense, is fortunate to be geographically isolated from a large portion of this world. Perhaps, we feel inherently safe in the comforts of our own homes in America, that we don’t feel the need to worry about what is going on in less fortunate countries. Or perhaps, we aren’t compassionate because the majority of us have never even come close to experiencing the kind of danger that we tend to see only in war movies. I can only assume that for most Americans, if it isn’t on US soil, we simply follow the concept of “out of sight – out of mind.” And even so, perhaps we don’t consciously decide we want to be isolationists, but our society pushes us to react this way in order to avoid disrupting the stability of American society.

Perhaps the biggest culprit of all though is the media. Why is it that we can have day and night coverage of the Brussels and Paris attacks, but the CNN writes only two paragraphs dedicated to three separate bombings in Baghdad yesterday? Does anybody even realize that 93 people died and more than 161 civilians were injured in one city? Why was there a massive media frenzy when the Boston Marathon bombings happened, yet, we barely touch on the fact that well over 250,000 Syrians have died since 2012? Why do we hardly ever hear about the most deadly terrorist group in the world? If you think its ISIS, think again. Ever heard of Boko Haram? In 2015 alone, Boko Haram killed more than 11,000 people according to the Council on Foreign Relations’ Nigeria Security Tracker. In over six years, the terrorist group has claimed more than 30,000 lives in Nigeria, Niger, Chad, and Cameroon, but you probably don’t know that because it’s hardly ever addressed in the media.

Did the media decide they spent too much time talking about the pointless Iraq War for eight years; so therefore, Americans shouldn’t have an interest in the Middle East? Did our government decide the media shouldn’t show how much of a mess we left the region after our presence there and the war? How and why does the media get to choose to cover only certain tragedies for expanded coverage while ignoring so many others? Is it all a matter of political interest? Do we really place more significance on American and Western European lives than our brothers and sisters in the rest of the world? We all know the answer is clearly yes. And as painful as that reality is, there is undoubtedly uneven coverage on even the most horrific atrocities say in Africa compared to much smaller tragedies in the US or Western Europe. Just take the attack at Garissa University in Kenya last year. Haven’t heard of it? Well that’s my point.

The more I educate myself about how different cultures live, the more I realize that we are all so much alike. I’m always fascinated by Snap Chat’s videos of how others live in cities and countries half way across the globe. Instagram also offers insights to so many different cultures that I can’t help but say to myself, “I’m dumb, of course 20 something year olds from (insert country) lead similar lives as I do.” We all eat, have relationships, partake in hobbies, have jobs, etc. We all have the ability to feel anger, sadness, happiness, and excitement. We are ALL human. Yes – let me repeat that – WE ARE ALL HUMAN. We can all relate to one another. So why does location matter when tragedy occurs?

 

❤ Kayla

How Hiking Heals…

The cure to loneliness is learning to be content with one’s own company. At least – that’s what I’ve learned after nearly two years of living on my own, hours away from my closest friends and family. When I moved to Fayetteville, Arkansas in October 2014, I honestly didn’t have any intention on staying here for an extended amount of time. I longed to be in Denver, Colorado with my boyfriend, ready to start a life together. I didn’t go out of my way to make friends because I honestly didn’t feel the need to. In my mind I had already planned my escape out of Arkansas. I had found companionship with my coworkers and with those I played volleyball with and that was enough for me. I was satisfied.

It’s funny how as humans we try to plan our lives in advance, as if we know exactly how our lives will pan out. Well trust me – we don’t. The day after my 25th birthday, I removed myself from my long distance relationship that had already been deteriorating for years. It was long overdue, but unfortunately that didn’t make the heartbreak any easier. You see, that was my first legitimate relationship. My first love, and then, my first real heartbreak. So you can now see why after 25 years of not experiencing any sort of heartbreak – I was sort of a mess. In those dark moments, I sought comfort in professional help. In all honesty, I saw the woman once. She was a great listener and she suggested a really captivating book for me read (which reminds me – I should probably finish it now). And then, I met a fantastic guy. He challenged my thinking on every level (especially science). He was incredibly thoughtful (and easy on the eyes). He was well-cultured, loved to travel, enjoyed talking about politics, and loved to workout. He was literally everything I dreamed of. And best of all, he made me feel worthy of being in a relationship with. But….it was bad timing. I was still dealing with too much drama with my ex and I was honestly beyond exhausted. I couldn’t be the person I wanted and needed to be for him at the time, so we parted ways. That in itself was heartbreaking because I had finally found the comfort of a companion here in Arkansas – something that I didn’t realize I had sought.

For the first time (and because I was completely alone), I finally saw what Arkansas had to offer me (they don’t call it the Natural State for nothing). I found solace in hiking the worn out trails in the Ozark Mountains, feeling the warmth of the sun shine down my face. It was like a battery full of charge, the sun propelling me forward and giving me energy and life as I walked miles away into the wilderness. There is truly nothing more therapeutic then walking along the trails of freshly fallen amber leaves, inhaling and exhaling the clean cool air, and clearing the demons that inhabit your mind. F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote, “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” And just like Fitz said, it felt like my life had started over.

Throughout the last eight months, it has been nature that has kept me sane. My weekends have often led me to the most beautiful secluded destinations, hardly touched by civilization. I’ve climbed over 2000ft to reach a 200 ft waterfall, walked along a 350 foot bluff with stunning views of the Buffalo River, and practiced yoga on overlooks surrounded by the greenest trees. I have learned how to be wildly and incandescently happy in my own company because I am in sync with nature. I have learned that with every step amongst the pines, I can also let go of any detrimental thoughts that linger within me. The negativity that once crippled me now streams steadily away, like water flowing freely down the Buffalo River.

And that is what nature does – it allows you to move freely without the constraints of the real world that are constantly tugging at you from behind. If you respect it, it will respect you back and give you 10x more than what you ever expected. I hike alone because it is a safe haven for me to escape. I can be in complete control of my actions and not have to worry about anything other than myself. Call me selfish, but after my last three years of emotional torment, I deserve it. My life isn’t always full of dandelions and butterflies – but for now, I’ll take refuge being amongst them.

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Centerpoint Trail to Goat Trail – Overlooking the Buffalo National River

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Hawksbill Crag or commonly referred to as Whitaker Point

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Yellow Rock Trail at Devil’s Den State Park

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Pigeon Roost Hiking Trail – Beaver Lake

Love,

Kayla

Oh the Humanities…

“She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. ‘Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.”
― Roman Payne

I can’t pinpoint an exact moment where I knew traveling the world and becoming a humanitarian would become one of my greatest passions in my life, but the idea undoubtedly unfolded at an early age. Some kids loved math or science – I loved what most kids my age would consider the ‘boring’ subjects – geography and history. Whether it was participating in the local geography bee or sitting in the back row of Mr. Wagner’s history class secretly trying to memorize and locate every country on a blank map, I constantly wanted to learn more about the world around me in every facet. So much so that I would even spend my Sunday afternoons with my history teacher in the Kansas Museum of History in Topeka, Kansas just because I thought it was fun. Talk about dedication. In high school, I veered from the idea of going to college for history, instead I wanted to become a journalist. I imagined a life traveling around the globe as a photo journalist for National Geographic photographing wild animals on African safaris, climbing the Great Wall of China, and roaming the Roman Underground for lost treasures. When it finally came time to enroll at Baker University, I once again surprised myself and foolishly decided that there was ‘too much’ writing to go into the Journalism program. I clearly had no idea what I was getting myself into when I declared International Studies and later on, History, as my two majors instead (You know because those two subjects don’t require ANY writing or anything – I blame you – Ortiz, Richards, and Beasley). As much as I probably complained about the gruesome amount of work in those four years, I was led to exactly where I needed to be – in the humanities.

The humanities change you. Is there really anything more compelling than attempting to understand the human condition through history, religion, language, art, and philosophy? You don’t actually need to answer that. Too often have I heard the arguments that suggests that the humanities do not contribute to our vast knowledge base like the STEM fields do. Too often have I heard that the humanities will not provide job security or a healthy stream of income. Too often have I been belittled by those who believe that my Master of Science degree in Global and International Studies is ‘less worthy’ compared to their Engineering and Math degrees. Luckily, I won’t stay up at night feeling diminished by their ignorance. I’m damn proud of my education. My degrees emphasized critical reading, writing, and thinking skills, as well as interdisciplinary approaches to problem solving — ALL of which will serve me well as I volunteer abroad.

I’ve known since I was 14 years old that I would apply for the Peace Corps. At that time in my life, I saw life in the Peace Corps as glamorous and exotic. It didn’t hit me until I was in college that volunteering in this capacity was anything but. However, the more I learned in my International Studies’ classes about different cultures and global issues, the more I realized how badly I wanted to help other cultures thrive with the skills I possessed. Although I did not apply directly after receiving my undergraduate degree, I knew I needed to gain more life experience through volunteering, furthering my education, and working in higher education to become a competitive candidate for the Peace Corps (23,000 people applied this year after all). In the past four years, I have worked diligently to become an informed, educated, and hardworking global citizen. I most certainly couldn’t have achieved this without the seven years of burying myself in International Studies curricula.

International Studies literally brings out the humanity in oneself. I mean honestly, how couldn’t it? Try sitting in class day in and day out reading about things like the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict, food security, the Rwandan Genocide, female genital mutilation, or human trafficking – it will change you. It will make you question everything you can imagine about the intricacies of your own society and if you’re contributing to this Earth in a positive or negative way. It makes you uncomfortable. No one wants to sit around and think about the poor child overseas being subjected to child labor in order to provide you with your clothing – but we have to. As humans – we have to be willing to question and dig deeper into the things that make us feel uncomfortable in order to enact any kind of positive change. And that is why I have chosen to join the Peace Corps – to promote world peace and gain intercultural relationships at a grassroots level. I would have never truly understood the impact of studying International Studies unless I experienced and witnessed the human condition in a different light, far from the comforts of my 1100 sq ft apartment in Fayetteville, Arkansas. My education has served its purpose and it has undeniably prepared me for MY future.

September 19th, 2016 marks the beginning of my journey as a Youth Asset Builder/Secondary Ed English Teacher in Morocco. The program widely focuses on youth leadership, strengthening youth networks, building capacity of professionals who work with youth, and the promotion of girls’ education. I will spend three months in intensive training learning Darija and everything I need to know about Moroccan culture and how to be the best volunteer possible. During this time I will live with a host family (one that I pray respects my dietary restrictions). For those wondering about my location, I will not find out until the end of those three months where I will be placed for the next two years of service. However, once I’m placed at my site, I will find myself my very own apartment that will become home for the next two years. Frankly, I’m scared. I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m still shocked. I really can’t begin to describe the emotions that come to play when you know you will be in a completely new environment for 27 months. My goal is to keep you all updated as much as possible through this blog, Facebook, and Instagram. Feel free to ask me any questions regarding the Peace Corps or my travels abroad at anytime! I’ve searched for quite some time for an organization that I could develop professionally, socially, mentally, and physically and I couldn’t be more proud to have found that with the Peace Corps.

 

Love,

Kayla

 

Photo taken by the spectacular Gloria Atanmo at The Blog Abroad: