While I am living with a host family, attending a Chilean school, speaking the Spanish language, and overall very immersed in the culture of Chile there will always be one thing holding me back from every fully being recognized as a Chilean—my blonde hair. While there are some women down here who have their hair dyed blonde, my lighter skin paired with my light hair is a dead give away that I’m not from Latin America. And once I speak, this is confirmed. I don’t have perfect Spanish, believe or it not after only about a month and a half here I still feel very lost in some conversations and can’t quite get across what I want to say, and because of this people automatically know I’m not from here.
I want to embrace my gringoness and be proud of where I come from, but I must admit it is a little disheartening when I am speaking to someone in Spanish and then they start using English with me because they can speak perfect English and realize my Spanish is not up to par. But while this is a little frustrating, it doesn’t bother me quite as much as another habit I’ve noticed the Chileans have around me.
Everywhere I go I am constantly stared at. Some days I don’t feel the eyes bearing into my back as much as others, and usually it doesn’t bother me too much, but the other week I noticed it more than normal and even some of the people in my program who were with me that day confirmed that the stares were only for me. I think it may have been my outfit, which would not have been scandalous in the US, but here I guess it’s a different story. I was wearing a skirt with boots paired with a jean jacket and scarf. Everywhere I went the men would look me up and down and my friend Melissa even started counting how many people stared at me as we walked down the streets. She decided after a couple minutes it would be easier to count the people who hadn’t stared at me.
A taxi driver even turned his car around to get another glimpse at me. Melissa and I were walking on a small street and the taxi driver slowed down as he came past us and then quickly turned around and shouted out the window “Mi amor” before continuing on his way. Mind you, this man was at least 50 years old. GROSS! And that was not the first time I heard “Mi amor” being shouted to me that day.
Then, when I was walking back from class later that day with my friend Martha, we were about to cross a street when a man on his motorcycle passed and low and behold, started at me. But not only did he do a quick glance, he kept staring as he drove down the street, keeping his head turned over his shoulder until the next stop light about 200 meters in the distance. Creepy and dangerous.
I decided I was never doing the boots with skirt combo again and hopefully I wouldn’t get as many stares, or at least not notice them as much. Then a group of us went to Chiloe this weekend and as we were sitting in the airport a group of boys were sitting right behind us and we could all tell they were staring. This time though I figured it must be because we were a big group of gringas speaking English. They kept gawking their heads at us for a little while and once we all started to feel uncomfortable, a couple of them approached us.
They asked if they could have a picture. I wasn’t sure if they wanted us to take a picture of their group for them or if they wanted a picture of us—the group of Americans. After they repeated the question several times and we tried to figure out exactly what they meant, one of the boys stepped up to me, wrapped his arm around my shoulder while at the same time his friend took a picture. I burst out laughing. I didn’t realize they wanted a picture with just me! The group continued to take pictures with me individually while not only I laughed but the rest of the girls I was with cracked up as well.
Eventually they took pictures with some of the other girls but for a moment I thought they were only memorized with me. All of us girls were laughing non-stop. “Somos famosos,” we said—“We’re famous.” The boys literally bombarded us for about a half hour, and I’m surprised I was never asked for an autograph. I felt like the paparazzi was taking pictures of us and we couldn’t escape.
But I don’t want this to come off like a bad experience, because it was definitely the funniest thing that has happened to me here thus far. It is something I will always remember. After a day of being constantly stared at and feeling like a sexual object in the eyes of so many men, it was nice to have some comical relief from some teenage boys. I realized that sometimes the attention doesn’t always have to be negative and I just need to laugh it off and take it a little bit more lightly. Enjoy it while it lasts because I know I won’t be admired or asked for my picture multiple times when I return to the States.
Ana-Elisa, one of the girls in my group being bombarded with Chileans who wanted their picture with her.