Goodbye...

Throughout our sessions at AFESIP we have performed various little skits for the girls focused on male and female friendship. The idea was that we wanted them to see how the two sexes can interact in non-sexual ways. We were attentive to details that would help to portray how the female in the friendship was as assertive, decisive, and independent as the male. For our last session we wanted to perform a skit about love, to show them that it is ok to have a sexual relationship with a man as long as it is mutually respectful. The female lead was none other than yours truly. We began the scene in an office, I am new at work and I ask a co-worker to borrow a pen. He lends me one and asks how long I’ve been with the company, then tells me he’s a veteran and that I can always come to him if I need anything. The next day I ask him for help with a certain client, and we review the portfolio together. I drop a pen and, as we both bend down to pick it up, our hands touch. He gives me his phone number in case I have any questions, then we both go home. That night as I’m making supper I debate as to whether or not I should call him. It was important to us not only to show the progression of time in the piece, but also to show that the woman takes an active role in initiating the relationship by calling the man. We wanted them to make the clear distinction between acting and being acted upon. By the end of the skit, after we have talked on the phone for hours and taken the time to get to know each other, we meet for a date and leave the stage holding hands.

Much like our skits have evolved and changed in nature, so have our sessions with the girls. I remember that during the first session the girls were extremely shy and giggly. They did not look us in the eyes, they did not want to go in the middle of the circle to dance, and they were separated amongst themselves into small exclusive cliques. Throughout the sessions I’ve noticed some significant changes.

White Girl Dance was a humorous blog entry, but for them it is not a joke. These are girls who have been taught that when you dance, you do so seductively. When I began the dance session on our first day together by bopping and pointing and making a complete fool of myself, they followed my lead. Dancing became a means of expression and joy, done for one’s self and not for the benefit of onlookers. Much of our sessions with AFESIP have focused on the idea of acting in ways that make you happy, on being who you want to be.

In the short time we’ve worked together, I’ve noticed that they now love spending time in the middle of the circle, waving their arms and shaking their heads like madwomen. Even more significant, they now interact altogether as a group, not as separate cliques. Also, when they do improvisation or perform a skit, they don’t giggle or turn away from the audience. They no longer feel embarrassed or stupid in front of other people.

So it wasn’t too much of a shock when, after each volunteer had said a small word to the girls, expressing our love and admiration for them, many girls took the opportunity to speak in front of the group. They spoke about their emotions, and about what we had brought to them. These were girls who had trouble telling us their name and age when Julie and I first met them, and now they were giving long, heartfelt speeches. They said that every moment they spent with us made them happier and stronger, that we helped them to express themselves and to gain confidence. They said, “We feel better.” What is more beautiful than that?

After we did all of the initial warm-up exercises we continued with some improvisation, then we filmed a play that we have been working on with them about the objectification of women. It is one of the initial plays they presented to us, where there is one girl who acts as a doll of sorts while the others poke and prod her, fix and place her, then pose for pictures with the final result. The filming was done with masks, so I will be able to post the final version of it shortly.

After that, it was time to say goodbye. At first I thought I could make it through without crying, because, you know, I’m strong and stuff. Who was I kidding? I cry when I watch romantic comedies. I cry when I watch figure skating, or even when I watch the season finale of So You Think You Can Dance. But I can honestly say that although I’m a pathetic crybaby, nine times out of ten, I cry happy tears. I cry because I love to see people fall in love, do something they’re really good at, or fulfill a dream. This time my tears were a physical reaction to acute emotional pain.

We sat them all in a circle and distributed juice, snacks and gifts. We gave them each a group photo of the entire MSR team and themselves. Then the waterworks began. A few of girls, (the Bieber fans), were sitting next to me and holding my hands. As they felt the final goodbye approaching, they began to cry. The translator sitting near us told me they were asking me not to leave, and if I would ever come to visit them again.

I couldn’t help it. I started sobbing like an eight year old who fell off her bike. They swarmed around me and hugged me, which only made me cry more. One of the girls gave a speech about how we were all friends forever, and that even though we will be far apart, we all live under the same sky. She said we could always look up to the sky and know that we have friends in this world.

I cried more.

Then they sang us a traditional Lao song. The translator told us the lyrics meant, “this is not goodbye, this is until our next encounter.” Guess what I did?

I cried more.

So it was difficult. I don’t know how to explain how it felt. It was very different from any other experience I’ve had in my life. When you leave a boyfriend, you do so because you know it is time to move on. With friendships, sometimes people just grow apart. But in this situation, I had befriended these girls despite the language barrier, the difference of age and situation, the limited amount of time. And much like our friendship was a result of a very particular set of circumstances, so was our goodbye. We did not grow apart, we did not have a fight, we could simply no longer be. In the book I am reading the author writes of a farewell supper with her Parisian friends, “the moment we clink glasses, I think of all the people with whom I’ve promised to keep friendships yet haven’t. I truly hope we will.”

When I read this passage today the words “keep friendships” struck me as odd. What does it mean to “keep” a friendship? If you stop talking, have you truly lost a friend? I think my mentality is changing as my sadness subsides. Instead of grieving the loss of my new friends, I am grateful for the knowledge that new friendships have been made. As time moves on and the world keeps turning, these friendships exist now and forever.