**Another blog post from my online Leadership course. **
Ok
everyone –I need your help. Just in case you are speed reading, skip down to
the bottom, after I have a heart to heart with perhaps myself. (I’ll put a
***where you should start reading.) So, the past few days have been (and
continue to be) a struggle that I have been expecting for a while. This might
be oversharing with you guys, but for some reason, I feel inspired to share –if
not only because its slightly lonely being the only law student around here.
Ok, I had a full-tuition scholarship that is dependent on keeping a 3.0 –which
I did not. Just the other day, I got my last grade back. I was on “probation”
this semester and so have not only had about 0 self-esteem (as with most of us
–in my former life I prided myself on/identified myself with my academic
skills), but have also been really, almost sickeningly scared, and working
really really hard and having no life. So tons of thoughts are going through my
head: am I just not that smart? Maybe I’m not meant to be here –maybe my brain
is not meant to “think like a lawyer.” I keep trying to go over how I spent my
time this semester and find ways to chide myself for wasting it. I shouldn’t
have gotten a dog. I should spend less time on the phone with my mom, who
underwent 3 surgeries this semester. None of these thoughts are really
productive, good for me, or really going to do anything. But its really hard to
stop thinking them when I am in a place that doesn’t have all the distractions
that we do in America. Beer. TV. Friends. Freedom to go outdoors and go for a
long walk, hike, run, bike ride. The ability to stay in bed for the whole day
without people wondering if I am ok. Ice cream. Anyway, the part that I think
is worth thinking about is that I was really very hesitant to come to law
school. My site mate here is a social worker (sorry if I’ve told you guys this
a million times) and she said yesterday what is really true –I have a social
worker’s mind and heart. I just happen to be in law school. When I was
contemplating applying to law school, I sought out the advice of those I love
and respect. I talked to family and friends, mentors, coworkers, and even took
a trip back to Gettysburg, my alma mater, to speak to my philosophy professors
who I am still close with. Almost everyone not only seriously questioned why I
wanted to go to law school, advised me against it in this economic climate, or
downright persuaded me to change my mind. Why didn’t I get a MA in
International Affairs? Why didn’t I find a job that could sustain me
financially for the moment and apply to ideal jobs with the same vigor I would
have to apply in law school? And of course, EVERYONE had their piece to say
about the tremendous financial burden I would be taking on which really didn’t
line up with the type of work I wanted to do (like what I am doing this
summer). I wasn’t sure I was going to go up until the last minute, but
something in me persisted. I really believe in the power of law to change
people’s lives. After a number of years doing development work and becoming
really disenchanted with the entire system (in my mind, its kind of
neocolonialism), I came to realize that what I really wanted to do was be an
advocate for people. Be invited into their communities and instead of having a
prescription for what would make their lives better –to ask them what they
wanted to do and then figure out how I could use my access to provide resources
for them. Law school seemed, in part, like an obligation. I was born in a place
and with a mind and have had a life that has led me right up to this
opportunity –all I had to do was take the leap. If I had the chance to receive
such a high level of education it is kind of my duty, as a thank you to the
world, and as a way to make more people have the opportunities that I have –to
take advantage of it. Anyway, I found out very close to acceptance time that I
got the scholarship to DU. I was elated. Suddenly all the questions I had been
asking myself for years seemed solved –if I could go to school with tuition
paid I could still get to do what I wanted when I graduated. So here I am. But
now that I lost the scholarship, I find myself back where I was a year ago. All
of those questions are coming back. Why do I want to be here? Is this the right
place for me? Am I willing to put my dreams at risk by taking on this financial
burden? So, it has been a little bit of a depressing and traumatic couple of
days.
***But here is finally what I need your help with. Yesterday morning, we
had a meeting with Lian (the Director at the Women’s school), Hanna, the social
worker, Sondang, an Indonesian mental health worker from Jakarta who is
volunteering here over the summer, and Ibu Lina, one of the women that
graduated from the women’s school and is now a facilitator. As I mentioned
before, the women’s school is diversifying its programs to meet more of the
community’s needs –in part because of the grant I won for them (thank god that happened
–I keep reminding myself I am good at SOMETHING). The women’s school is
currently serving as a kind of ad hoc safe house for domestically abused women
and children–which is a huge problem here, as you might imagine. They want to
make this program more formal, and a huge part of that will be community
education. We sat down yesterday to plan out how Hanna, Sondang, and I can use
our time here to further the program.
The first question that we discussed was
“Men abuse their wives and children because they have the power. How can we get
them to give up that power?” While the others discussed this from the mental
health perspective, I was brainstorming on my own. So that is my first question
to you. Men kind of always have the power –they are usually physically stronger
than women (and maybe for other reasons?). And don’t get me wrong –I know that
there are vast DV problems in the states too. But I am trying to articulate and
understand the difference –because I know within my peers growing up DV wasn’t really
an option. I thought of three things:
1. The law. Obviously. Rule of law is
strong in our country and so perhaps men don’t think about it because they know
there are serious repercussions. But here, though Indonesia has seemingly good
laws on the books (anyone with experience in DV law? I am looking for some good
comparisons from the States –like a state with exemplary DV laws and one with
bad ones. I think Professor M is trying to work on improving Colorado’s so
maybe that is a good place to start.), there is ABSOLUTELY NO enforcement.
Obviously, this will be where I will be working. Come back to that in a bit.
2.
Social pressure. The others insisted that this is the most powerful element in
Indonesian culture. People adjust their behavior based on how they are
viewed/treated by others in their community. A HUGE part of this is the
church/mosque. A lot of the training the women’s school hopes to do is going to
be through churches and mosques. These places already serve as “safe houses”
for women and children suffering from DV, but, disturbingly, the religious
leaders’ response is to pray with them. So educating perpetrators is a long way
down the line –first they will train the women facilitators from the school and
others they identify as “allies,” then they will educate the religious leaders
and communities, and finally come up with a strategy for how to identify and
reach the perpetrators. I suggested that at some point, I would really like it
if they could convince the religious leaders to, once they find out that a
woman or child is being domestically abused, to not allow their husband to come
to services. Kind of like in Catholicism where if you “sin” you are not
supposed to go up and take mass –kind of a public shaming. I feel like this
would do a lot to make people think twice about DV. Maybe this is naïve.
3.
Quality of life. Another aspect of living abroad, at least in the cultures I
have experienced, is, as I am sure many of you are familiar with, the vastly
different and strictly enforced division of labor between men and women.
Senegal was the worst. Men’s main function was farming –which was ridiculously
hard work (but the women actually farmed too) but only lasted part of the year.
The other part the men would mostly sit in the public areas drinking tea and
playing cards while the women cooked, took care of the kids, did laundry,
cleaned, etc. All of us Peace Corps volunteers were on a constant campaign to
convince the men that taking a more fair share of the work, among its many
benefits, would also allow them to be closer to and spend more time with their
wives. We would explain how its fun and normal for couples in the U.S. to cook
together –that it can be a whole event that people actually plan for and enjoy.
This mostly got laughs. But my point is –I think maybe men in the U.S. give up
their power because it makes their life more enjoyable. I think men actually
enjoy being more a part of their family life –taking care of their kids,
working side by side with their wives around the house. What do you guys think?
So basically, I am asking you guys first to help me brainstorm about what seems
like an insurmountable task that we in the U.S. have at least, in some segments
of society, and in part, managed to surmount. Here it seems impossible. How to
make men give up their stronghold? (And of course, this pervades to all aspects
of society and is the source of much of Indonesia’s social, political, etc.
ills). But I guess the more important question for us is this one: how to
encourage rule of law? The group asked me to take on a task that seems
impossible: they want to gather the local police and have me give them a
training on Indonesia’s DV laws, people’s rights, and why the police should
enforce them. For example, Indonesia’s DV law says that anyone has the right to
report DV and the police have to respond –with either a report, a preliminary
protective order (if requested), or a protective order. There are criminal
sanctions listed for every type of DV. Yet no one ever reports, and if they do,
the police do nothing. This gets back to my intro. Yesterday, while we were
talking, the women explained how one time at a demonstration the women were
doing against DV, the police were taunting them and shouting at them that if
they orgasmed, it wasn’t rape. This is also the experience of individual women
if they report DV to the police –they are belittled and made fun of. Hanna said
this happens in the states as well –but it seems to me that that has to be
isolated cases. Does anyone have any experience in this area? They all kind of
laughed at me that I was so appalled. But I explained myself –it is not naiveté
(ok, maybe it is a bit), but I am 29 years old and I have seen a lot of messed
up stuff in the world. However, for some reason, my heart remains young and I
never cease to be deeply effected and shocked by how bad people can be to each
other. And I felt in that moment why I am in law school. And why I need to
stay, even if I have to pay. I will figure something out. But ever since I was
a little kid, injustice effects me, it hits me right in the heart, and shocks
me every time. As a kid, when I felt something was unjust I would scream and
throw a fit and go upstairs and throw things around my room. I was pretty
terrified by my own rage. But now I have figured out another way to deal with
injustice –to use my life to work hard and make at least a tiny impact in
tipping the scales of justice just a little more towards the good. I really
think I am joining a revolution –lol –and you guys should get on board. (I am
sure there are lots of other people who think this as well and have already
started –like Lawyers without Borders). Law is the way. It is our social
compact with each other to treat each other with decency and fairness. Nowhere
is this more obvious than in a country with no rule of law where people are
getting hurt all the time –especially in a community like this where lack of
rule of law means people resort to violence to avenge their injustices. It
should be just as obvious why I want to go to law school to save the world as
it would be if I got a degree in development. Really, it should be more so. The
women’s story is also why educating the police on why they should enforce DV
laws seems like such an impossible task. As I see it, the biggest problem is
perhaps that the police are rotated in from outside the community. I was
thinking of starting by asking them don’t they want to protect their mothers,
sisters, wives, and daughters against this kind of act? I want to ask them to
imagine if it was someone they loved that were sitting in front of them –how
could they do something like that? But the reality is probably that these
people are government cronies shipped in from the capital or somewhere else
where they have a vastly different lifestyle. Also, a problem I have noticed in
poor countries is that once many people get into power, the get nauseatingly
arrogant, lazy, condescending, and comfortable in their airconditioning, nice
consistent paycheck, and powerful connections. Power corrupts, right? But to
deal with this depressing reality –I have kind of come to think that this is a
result of the culture of poverty. (The culture of poverty is actually a thing
that I am really interested in studying in depth at some point.) They grew up
poor, witnessing things many of us can’t even imagine, and so once they get to
a safe place, a place where they can provide for their family, and where people
respect them (counteracting a life of self-depreciation for being poor and
second-class in the world), they go a specific kind of crazy. So…that’s the big
question. Should I accept this challenge? If so, what should I do? Do you guys
have any thoughts/experience? Any resources I could start consulting? Well, at
least I am no longer sick and feeling underworked. Its going to be a crazy rest
of the summer.
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