Like a lot of kids, I learned “I” statements when I was in preschool. It’s a way to resolve issues without getting upset. Let me give it a shot. I don’t like it when we call countries “Third World Countries,” “Developing Nations,” or “Underdeveloped Nations.” Let’s please stop.
Sure, I could fill a country with all of the ways that this country is different from actually everything I’m used to. Even nuances like outdoor courtyards inside the walls of homes and buildings make me stop and watch the world with surprise and confusion like your regular twenty-something, doe-eyed idealist dreamer arriving in New York City at the beginning of her Rom-Com. Except there’s no music (or even a movie for that matter) to cue everyone else into my revelations, and, you know, this is my study abroad in Guatemala. To someone like me who’s had no exposure to Central American cultures, I’m baffled daily by the intricacies of this country that are so different than mine.
But focusing on what’s different is how we forget that other people are people. Even though courtyards, catcalling, salsa that burns your lips for twenty minutes, and plenty else puzzle me, I’ve had moments nearly every day with wonderful people when I’ve almost forgotten to remember that I’m in a foreign place.
People are working on home improvement projects, showing off pictures of their daughters on their phones, burying their husbands, in their mid-twenties trying to figure out where they’re going in life, falling in love, organizing church events and baby showers, making sarcastic jokes, teasing their friends about girls, talking about this new band they just heard, bragging about their all-grown-up kids, and talking about how much they dislike Donald Trump.
When I see these people in Guatemala, I have to smile and make that little huff of a laugh that you get when something surprises you. This isn’t a third-world country like we hear about in the States, I think to myself. This isn’t what we talked about in that survey political science course in high school—these people are like the people I know and like me.
Now maybe someone is pointing out that these countries—the ones we seem to call Third World on reflex—like Guatemala are rife with a list of problems longer than a hypochondriac’s list of fears. And that’s true. But how is that so different than the United States? (Fifteen points if you asked yourself this.) Since I’ve been in Guatemala, I’ve seen a wide spectrum of economic conditions. In Antigua, wealth manifests in colorful colonial-style buildings, lavish cars, expensive restaurants, dozens of nightclubs, pricey jewelry and clothing stores, and plenty other subtle and not-so-subtle signs. Yet slums and even an entire neighborhood in a garbage dump sit not too far from the high-luxury apartment buildings and hotels of Guatemala City. On the way to extravagant tourist destinations, there are miles of coffee, corn, and banana plants tightly surrounding worn homes like blankets pulled snug around a face—showing you how land owners try to extract every bit of profit from the people who live there. Every once and a while, you catch a look at a gated property or neighborhood with gorgeous lawns and ginormous houses. Maybe the financial spectrum is wider on the bottom end in Guatemala than in the U.S., but not by as much as you’d think.
It’s true that there’s violence, drug trafficking, malnutrition, and weak education for many here. Guatemala had approximately 5,253 murders in 2013, but the United States had approximately 14,496 in the same year, and mass-shootings are more common in the United States. Guatemala’s infamous Petén region services drug traffickers—on their way through Latin America to the United States. The majority of indigenous children in Guatemala are not in school regularly, but thousands of children, especially migrant workers, in the United States are not either. Nor does hunger seem to discriminate by nationality.
The question is, if the good parts of humanity aren’t so different and the bad parts aren’t either, why do we talk to and about countries like Guatemala like they’re made of entirely different parts all together?
That “why” is a bigger question than I can answer just in this blog. Best guess is that it stems back to maintaining a certain global economic hierarchy, racism, and Western-centrism. But here’s “what” happens when we are “into labels.”
When we commit international name-calling, what we’re really saying about those “Third World”/ “Developing”/ “Underdeveloped” countries is that they’re different than ours in irrecoverable and fundamental ways. Worse, we’re implying that those countries are inferior to and incapable of being like our country—even though we think they should try. Maybe you think that I’m exaggerating, but hear me out. When we talk about these countries, we’re usually talking about something that’s wrong with them—namely in comparison to our country. Think of it this way: it would be rude beyond belief to tell someone to their face that they are a second or third-class citizen or to describe that person in that way. It would also be rather awful to describe or tell them that they are still “developing” or “underdeveloped” as a human. Calling them that assumes they’re supposed to “develop” in a certain way to be more like you. The truth is, calling countries the equivalent names is some George Orwell, “all pigs are equal but some pigs are more equal than others,” kind of discrimination. And even if certain countries are struggling, lumping them into such categories makes it easier for us to ignore how each one has different struggles for its own reasons.
This is the part where maybe you look at me, brain still processing, and ask what we should do. This is also the part where I take a big breath, let it out, and shake my head to say I don’t exactly know. But we can start with the basics. Which countries are we talking about? Poor ones. Ones with extreme violence. Ones with discrimination and persecution. Almost always they’re former colonial states. But man, they’re so much more than that. That’s the worst part of those insulting names: describing things by their worst qualities means that we’re looking to dislike them, maybe even discriminate against them. If you don’t know of any good qualities, go explore and look for them. It’s not an easy investigation sometimes; it’s expensive to go in person and get to know somewhere or someone, and looking through second-hand sources until you get past the scandalous and the negative takes time. But it’s worth it. Because if you can’t think of a broad category for a group of countries (or for a group of people, for that matter) that isn’t offensive, that’s probably a sign that non-offensive one doesn’t exist and that you shouldn’t group those individuals together. So call them by their names, every single one. Otherwise you might forget that they each have one.
Fifty-Five And One Antiguan Nights 