In Which I Contemplate Change

The way I look has changed. My skin is darker than it has ever been. A pinkish-golden color. The bright green dress I brought with me actually looks good against my skin. I thought it made me look a bit sickly before. There are more freckles on my shoulders and arms—and new ones on the bridge of my nose. Or maybe those are sun spots. I’ll worry about that when I get back though. I have a startling watch tan. There are gold streaks in my hair; I might actually be blond by the end of this trip. I feel like I’m starting to look like the supermodels from the eighties: sun-kissed and hale, but with a soft prettiness.

All this is a part of a larger issue: the way this trip will change me. Because there will be change, no question about it. And most of it will be for the better, I hope. But some of it will be hard. I will never be as comfortable in my own home, my own skin. There is awareness in me now, awareness of the incredible privilege Americans enjoy. And we do enjoy incredible privilege. More than we can ever really know. I had a difficult time understanding why some of the USAC girls had such a hard time arranging to travel to travel to Togo and Nigeria. I can basically book a flight to anywhere in Europe and go. I don’t need a visa. I just say that I am a tourist. I suppose it is sign of the power of the American tourist dollar. I remember that the first time I looked at my passport, I felt pride when I read the request by the office of the Secretary of State that I be allowed free passage, that I be afforded the rights and privileges due an American citizen. I do not think that I can ever now forget the power of an American passport. Because it is just one more thing about me that gives me more power than the people around me. Never mind that I come from an upper-middle-class family. Never mind that I am well-educated and well-read. Never mind that I am white. I didn’t understand before this, the inherent status of my being. I feel a weight now. I feel responsibility. There is a large part of me that wants to go home and forget about what I am thinking now. I could probably manage it. 

But I will change in other ways, too. I am more aware of the way I wash and prepare vegetables. I have to be so careful here. I have discovered the joys of handkerchiefs. Why have we stopped using handkerchiefs, anyway? I truly understand just how heavy books can be. I can not longer take wifi for granted. There is so much more. Small things. But I notice them. I will notice them. And I am sure you will, too.