Just Say No

I’ve always had a hard time saying no. It’s not that those elementary school D.A.R.E classes on just saying no to drugs didn’t help. They did. I attribute my very limited drug addictions to the success of those classes. The problem is I don’t know how to say no to certain people. I am not necessarily a people pleaser, but I feel obligated to say yes, especially to those I admire.

Last week, a teacher at my Islamic middle school asked me to teach his class for him. My first thought was, not surprisingly, “Well I guess I can try.” He’s a good teacher. I’m sure he’s missing class for an important reason. I was ready to say yes, but what came out was, “No.” That was a surprise. Why didn’t I say yes?

Looking back, of course I should have said no. No preparation and expecting me to teach? I don’t pick rabbits out of my hat anymore.

In the beginning of my Peace Corps service, I tried so hard to please people. I devoted to the Yes Man philosophy. This was a new chapter in my life, and I wanted to make the absolute best of it. For the most part, it has helped shape my current good experiences. But in some ways the Yes Man philosophy harmed my development because I wasn’t saying yes to just open up to new opportunities; sometimes I was saying yes to avoid confrontation.

At this time, I’m more comfortable saying no. I mean there will definitely be instances when I can’t say no. No one’s perfect. I still have so many problems, so many vices.

One of my high school teachers said the age range that I’m currently in is the time when people figure out themselves. We figure out how we operate and learn how to test our limits. As nice as that sounds, I don’t think I’m fully there yet. Not yet. But at least I can say for sure that I’m better at saying no, and knowing that makes a big difference.

Mbak Bro!

Most of my students, both middle school and university, fear speaking English because they are worried about making grammatical mistakes. Every time my students say this, I always try to express that their grammatical mistakes are okay. As long as I understand the meaning, mistakes are all right. The point is communication. If they can communicate, I don’t care if they misuse the present perfect progressive tense. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure what that tense is trying to describe.

I try to practice what I preach. I always intentionally, and unintentionally, make mistakes when I speak Indonesian with my students. To err is human. Peace Corps suggested that making these mistakes makes us seem more human to our American-glorifying students, which should in theory make them more comfortable being human with us.

The one instance I surprised myself embracing my humanness was when I responded to “Mas,” which is the identifying term for male in Java. My hair has always been short in this country. It’s just too hot to keep it long. Since having short hair isn’t common in Indonesia, especially in the village, people often mistake me for a boy. I usually just correct them and explain that Americans have flexible style options for both men and women. They usually apologize and seem super embarrassed once I correct them. Not a big deal.

But that one instance I responded to “Mas” was a bit confusing for me. Indonesia has pretty strict gender roles. I’m feminine, but I don’t really fit in. Maybe my not fitting in has allowed me to float around in terms of gender roles. I can be feminine and masculine at the same time. My close Indonesian friends seem to understand this, too, because they call me “Mbak Bro.” Mbak is the identifying term for female in Java. The original term of endearment is “Mas Bro,” which roughly translates to “dude” or “boss.” But because I’m female they’ve tried to integrate my floating personality into the term. In my opinion, it makes the endearment so much more endearing.

As soon as I realized I just responded when someone called out “Mas,” my first thought was:

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Who am I?”

But then I realized that those people don’t mean to disrespect or judge me for having short hair as a female. They are just trying to communicate. And since I want to practice what I preach to my students, I’m okay responding to that term.

Wilson

As much as I’ve developed professionally here, I’m still dealing with the same personal problem. In the film Cast Away, Tom Hanks’ character gets stranded on an island by himself. His only companion is a Wilson volleyball that he names “Wilson.” His friendship with Wilson is explained by desperation. There is no other person on this island with him, and he personifies the volleyball and develops a complex relationship with it.

I want to preface that I’m not comparing my Peace Corps service to being stranded on a deserted island by myself. I have plenty of support here and at home. I am also not comparing the person I’ve identified as my Wilson as being less than human. But I have developed a complex relationship with a Wilson that has harmed as well as improved my overall service.

I found my Wilson eight months ago. The ways Wilson has harmed my service:

• Avoiding certain areas of school so that I wouldn’t have to run into Wilson and in turn, not being able to socialize with certain people 
• Getting unreasonably sad every time Wilson neglects me 
• Causing me to develop an unhealthy relationship with him, a community member I’m supposed to serve as part of my service 

The ways Wilson has improved my service:

• Allowing me to explore past my comfort zone in terms of personal relationships 
• Helping me improve my Indonesian language skills 
• Keeping me busy with other activities in the community in trying to avoid interaction 

For the past eight months, I’ve been debilitated by this relationship. There have been many good experiences with Wilson, and many bad. I quickly learned how to control my destructive outward feelings towards Wilson, but it’s all still there internally.

There’s only 14 months left of my service. If I were to choose to extend a third year, my Wilson would be a major factor in the final decision. I still feel successful as a Peace Corps volunteer. Wilson doesn’t change that. I’m doing things I never thought I could do. I feel like a leader here. I fully intend to continue that feeling back home, but am I willing to prolong this relationship? I don’t know. I just know that I’m excited for the opportunity for Wilson to cast away from my life the way he did for Tom Hanks’ character. It’ll be an incredibly sad moment to see Wilson float away from my life raft, but I’ll be entirely ready when he does. Because when he does, it means that I’ll finally be able to escape the island.