Take a woman to fish…

I’m constantly trying to find ways to break down the gender norms in my community: women cook, clean, and have babies; men work, drink, and play dominoes. These well-rooted roles aren’t extremely easy to tackle, and talking to locals about awareness of these culturally-created gender characteristics has proven to be just as difficult, but I try whenever I can to point out the society-enforced responsibilities that constantly influence the everyday expectations of the population of Bayahibe. I can recognize that this is a world-wide phenomenon that will not go away this year, in 10 years or even in this century, and though my one-man efforts seem small in the big scheme of things, I cannot write them off as futile, as this type of education is the important first step to creating a world based on equality.

Because of this passion of mine, one of the things which brings me the most joy in this job is happening upon progressive-thinking Dominicans, which I did the other day in a conversation with my neighbor, Maximo. Through various conversations with him, I’ve discovered that in spite of the “machismo” culture he was brought up in, he actually has a decent grasp on gender equality – or at least a better grasp than most Dominicans, and that gives me a smidgen of hope.

Maximo, who has four teenage girls, has made it very clear to them that their first priority is education, not creating a family. He tells them that each of them has to go to college and decide on a career before settling down. This sounds like a normal parental request to most Americans, but in the Dominican Republic, it is not so common. Many young girls start having children at the ripe age of 13. They drop out of school and focus on their two-person family (because usually the father abandons the mother and child upon hearing the news of the pregnancy). After talking to Maximo about his requirements for his four beautiful daughters, I was so elated (I’d never heard another Dominican father take a stand like this) that I almost hugged him. That, of course, would have seemed odd, so I simply commended him for his good parenting skills and told him that we need more men like him in the Dominican Republic.

The other day, Maximo surprised me again. After at least three months of trying to get someone to take me fishing, I finally had a break through. Every time I asked one of my male friends to take me, he’d simply respond “Fishing’s for men; not for women or children.” No matter how many times I argued my side – that women can do the same work as men, that I should not be placed in the same category as a 4-year-old, that I wanted to help them develop their fishing businesses so I needed to see the methods they use, etc. – I couldn’t convince him to take me. One day I ran into Maximo, another fisherman friend. “Will you taking me fishing?” I asked. “Of course,” he said, “whenever you want.” After I explained to him the hard time I had convincing others to take me, that they would simply tell me that women can’t go, Maximo replied, “Pero eso no es nada… las mujeres pueden ir a pescar, igual que los hombres.” (But that’s nothing, women can go fishing just like men.) And so, my fishing experience will be realized and I will happily wave to the other fishermen we see on the water and let them be envious of the boat containing the lone fisherwoman in Bayahibe.