From the Archives is an ongoing series where Sticky Rice Staff Historian Mack Devoto, takes a deep dive into the archives of Sticky Rice. We’ll travel all the way back to 1966, as well as into the more recent past, to see how life for PCVs in Thailand has both changed… and stayed the same.
Mack Devoto, 135 YinD
“Alone these words are an unconscious flow. A mind’s wanderings, a mind’s breaths, reflections, chicken scratch, what more? When I give them to you, I open the door. But have I found justice for what’s in my mind? Will you pity my weaknesses or question my clatter? Suddenly, to put these thoughts into lines becomes quite a big matter. You strangers, how much would I let you see? These visions on pages scare even me. But what’s to lose? What’s to gain? There is nothing if nothing is shared. Do I trust you? Perhaps I should ask this question of me. The answer has to be used for my mind’s riddles are all that I see. Doodles. Dancing. A mirror of me.”
– Gillian, June 2002
The quote above is from the April/May/June edition of Sticky Rice, published in 2002. The article was a collection of excerpts from a volunteer’s personal journal, which they chose to share with their fellow volunteers. Reading Gillian’s submission felt like reading my own journal, as it reminded me of the familiarity of Peace Corps service in Thailand over the past 20+ years, since the program’s inception, really. I mean, this edition is nearly as old as I am, yet I find it vulnerable and raw, not only to the volunteer experience but also to the human experience.
Often, when I am writing, there seems to be no purpose. Usually, I put pen to paper with no intention other than to force some semblance of a thought out of my brain, sometimes just as a reminder that I do– in fact –speak English fluently and can (perhaps?) properly communicate my emotions and thoughts, as a ‘proper adult’ is supposed to. More often than not, it turns into exactly what Gillian describes it as, “an unconscious flow,” “chicken scratch.” Things that, through my eyes, I would not dare publish for fear of being seen as childish, vacuous, or the fear of being perceived at all. Sharing these streams of consciousness takes particular bravery that academic writing cannot begin to fathom. For what represents a person’s psyche more than their subconscious? I don’t even know exactly what I have written in my journal until I revisit it– if I even do that. Sometimes it feels easier to ignore earlier passages, rather than go back and read what you were feeling the previous day(s).
“Have I found justice for what’s in my mind?”
Have I? Is this a feasible concept? The Peace Corps experience is unlike anything else. The isolation we face forces the volunteer to confront all aspects of themselves and their lives. Who do you want to be? What impact do you want to leave on your community, and how does that tie into the impact you wish to leave on the world around you? These thoughts swarm my mind frequently. Every day, I am living with the knowledge that I am in the midst of creating life-long memories of a time I will look back on with immense fondness and gratitude. But how can I be nostalgic for the present? It’s paradoxical, yet human.
“Will you pity my weaknesses or question my clatter? Suddenly, to put these thoughts into lines becomes quite a big matter.”
“These visions on pages scare even me. But what’s to lose? What’s to gain? There is nothing if nothing is shared. Do I trust you? Perhaps I should ask this question of me.”
How can we progress without vulnerability? Avenues like Sticky Rice give us the opportunity to share and empathize with one another, to create dialogue, and to realize that we are not alone in our experiences. While no one volunteer’s experience here will be the same, some similarities can be found and shared, creating a unique bond between volunteers. Being afraid of vulnerability doesn’t help anyone. While it may protect you in the immediate, it crafts a higher barrier as you continue to barricade yourself into your mind, which you refuse to share with anyone else. Eventually, you find that you have built a wall wrapping around every corner of your subconscious, until the point where you cannot access yourself. Do you trust yourself? It has taken me my entire life to do so. In trusting myself, I have blossomed and opened my head and heart up to those around me, and myself. I know myself more intimately than ever before, and she is beautiful.
“The answer has to be used for my mind’s riddles are all that I see. Doodles. Dancing. A mirror of me.”
Take this passage as a gentle, yet firm reminder that vulnerability is not a weakness, but a strength. Strength comes from confiding in and finding comfort within one another, not from withholding it in fear of judgment and ridicule. We are a community, tied together through the Peace Corps experience, which is something so incredibly unique that we should cherish wholeheartedly.
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