Conspicuous and Invisible

Before I started my job with OTI, I was a little concerned about what it would be like to work with a bunch of men in a war zone. Would I be respected? Would my opinions and insight be valued? Would it be a daily struggle to get people to take me seriously?

My initial fears were quickly allayed when I began my training with all those future male colleagues and realized the plus-side of being one of the few women in a room full of men: I was a hot commodity! Not only was I not ignored or de-valued, but I got extra attention. People wanted to talk to me; I got free coffee and rides home! This was a bit disorienting at first (note: 80% female grad school program), but I won't deny it was pretty nice. I began to wonder if this is the way life is supposed to be! It began a season of life wherein I feel I'm being treated better by men than I ever have before - even (and perhaps especially) than at church and my Christian undergraduate university. This experience so far has helped me value my identity as a woman in ways I previously had not. I'm realizing that for much of my life, I've seen my gender as a liability, but now I'm learning to recognize and appreciate my femininity as value-added to people around me and the world.

However, after 2 months at KAF, the "honeymoon" period of basking in the limelight is beginning to wear off a little. I still feel like I'm treated really well by my colleagues 98% of the time - I get doors opened for me, people letting me go in front of them in line at the DFAC, and favors from our somewhat cantankerous facilities managers that my male colleagues swear they could never get. I don't notice it too much, but my friends tell me I get stared at walking around the base (my OTI colleague Dan said that for the first few days he was here, he couldn't figure out why everyone was looking at him when we were together - then he realized they were looking at me). So I know I'm conspicuous, but in professional settings, I've been feeling a bit invisible of late.

When people come into the OTI office with a question, they naturally go straight to my supervisor, a man, for the answers. But sometimes I even notice it a little with Dan - that people will defer to him for answers and responses when we're together, even though we have the same level position and I've been at KAF longer than he has. And I feel most invisible at military meetings, which often seem like a "good ol' boys" club, where I feel awkward and out of place. There are many reasons for these professional tensions that have nothing to do with gender - I'm new, I'm young, I'm a civilian, my desk is in a corner of our office that makes it easier to face Rod and Dan than me when people walk in the door. And - truth be told - I often don't have the answers people are looking for when they come to our office; I simply just don't know enough yet. So there's no reason to get all pissy and sensitive about how I'm treated as a woman in the office. Yet, the gender thing is there, and I notice it. Fortunately, I have the mantra of lessons from the job search running through my mind most days: Fight. Don't indulge self-pity. Access the good even in difficult circumstances. Perseverance, hope, patience. It may be harder for me professionally as a woman, or it may not be - regardless, all there is to do is run the race in front of me and tackle the obstacles I encounter, because we all encounter obstacles and mine certainly are not the most onerous. A friend of mine who is also in the Army had some good advice when it comes to first having to battle to get the military to take you seriously:

The only solution to that is to try to find one person in the meeting you can convince, and then convince them. Then find a second and have the first guy convince him that you can help. And from there on you build an army.

Or, plan B is to flirt with them. May not help your credibility, but you may get to go out on a mission with them if they think you will make out with them because they took you.

So, you can go either way with it. It's ok if it's all for the greater good, right? We are trying to win a war here.

So at least I've got options :). But what is more disturbing to me than simply my personal struggles is the fact that on the whole, women are conspicuously absent from most strategic development, planning and implementation across the board - from lethal operations to governance and development (because even though civilians like to think they are driving things, the military still overwhelmingly outnumber us and therefore have the lead even on governance and development issues, for better or for worse [and don't assume I necessarily think it's for worse - I really don't know most days]). Or perhaps I should say women are inconspicuously absent, because I haven't really noticed anyone caring much that women are not a part of these discussions. The other day I was the only woman in a briefing on a topic I studied fairly extensively in grad school, the implementation of which is being completely driven by the military in Afghanistan. This bothered me on numerous levels, but the absence of women was one. Not that men don't have completely brilliant ideas, but when women aren't part of the planning, you are inevitably going to be missing something. No offense to my brilliant and honorable male colleagues, but I wonder if we might be doing a little better in Afghanistan if women were more involved in developing our strategy here.

And this doesn't even touch on the issue of Afghan women's issues, and how difficult they are to access and consult in a divided society, especially when the war/peacebuilding/development effort is being led by men. There are certainly a few efforts being made with Female Engagement Teams and the like, but I can't help thinking this is a big missing piece that we are nowhere close to adequately addressing. If you want to know what invisible looks like, try finding an Afghan woman as a foreign man in Afghanistan.

I don't know what the answers are, but I know this: gender matters. It matters for me, it matters for U.S. policymaking, and it matters for Afghanistan.

I'm a Hard Worker, but I'm not a Workaholic

Alternate Title: I've Got Soul, but I'm not a Soldier

I just finished a 13-hour workday. A workday that involved eating a chocolate doughnut and a hard boiled egg for lunch, having the civilian Duty Driver responsibility of taking people to the flight line for their movements, meeting a reporting deadline for one of our staff who is on leave, participating in a meeting with our implementing partner's Chief of Party, following up on action items for which I was responsible, eating a tuna sandwich for dinner at my desk, and still leaving a project that's due by COB tomorrow untouched and at least 35 unread emails in my inbox when I left the office at 9pm. This workday came on the heels of an evening spent in the combat hospital emergency room with a friend (for - don't worry - a non-combat-related issue, and she's now fine), and then when I was finally able to get to sleep, being woken at 3am and again at 5am by the rocket attack alarm, forcing me to go out to the bunker each time to wait for the "all clear" before going back to sleep. And this workday comes before my "day off" tomorrow, which will involve working at least 6 hours.

All this to say, I am a hard worker. I can do days like today and chalk it up to doing what it takes to get the job done. But days like today are honestly atypical, and I think they should be. As I said in my interview when I was asked about my strategies for stress-management, "I'm a hard worker, but I'm not a workaholic." I know how to work hard, but I also know how to rest. I know how to take breaks, and how to take care of myself. While some of my colleagues may work 13-, 14- or 15-hour days, 7 days a week, I refuse to. I'm determined that days like today will be anomalies.

You see, in practical terms, I just don't think it's possible to practice the healthy habits of a balanced lifestyle and work those kind of days. There simply aren't enough hours in the day for being a workaholic if you value other parts of your life. My spirit is important to me, so I will nurture it. I will spend time in the mornings with my Creator and Sustainer. My body is important to me, so I will take care of it. I will go to the gym every day, and I won't skip meals or make chocolate doughnuts a regular lunch item. My friends and family are important to me, so I will do my best to stay in touch with them. I will take time each day to write at least one email or Skype with at least one person or post something on my blog (!). My mind is important to me, so I will take time to reflect on my work. I will stop in the middle of my workday three times a week to journal and process through what I am learning and thinking about with regard to peacebuilding in this context. My mental health is important to me, so I will get good nights of sleep. I'll get at least 7, hopefully 8 hours of rest a night. When you add that all up, even if I get up at 6:30 and go to sleep at 11, it really only leaves 9 or 10 hours for work a day. See, it's really just impossible for me to be a workaholic. If you don't care about any of these other things, sure, you can work 16-18 hours a day. But I can't. It's not just that I won't, but I can't!

Of course, there will always be days like today, when, because of extenuating circumstances, I just have to push through and save the gym for tomorrow. I can do that. But I'll make sure these days are few and far between. Now, unless the Taliban or the Duty Driver phone thwart my well-laid plans again, I'm going to go get that good night's sleep.

Life at KAF: The New Normal

I've been at KAF for two weeks now and despite some of the idiosyncrasies of this place, I honestly really like it here. Adjusting to base life hasn't been all that difficult, even though it has its funny oddities. Here's a snapshot of my new normal:

• Badges, badges, and more badges. Since I started my job in March, I've gotten upwards of 5 new forms of ID. Everywhere I go, I need a different badge to get in - one for the USAID building in DC, one for the Embassy in Kabul, one for KAF, one for the Dining Facilities, not to mention my personal and diplomatic passports. Anyone not in uniform must wear a KAF ID badge at all times on base, so my neck pouch that displays my ID and holds my room key and some cash has become my newest fashion accessory.
• Idiot Reflectors. That's my name for it. Officially, I'm not sure what they're called, but after dark on base, everyone MUST wear a reflector belt, sold at the PX in the popular colors of either neon orange or neon yellow. I've heard rumors that one can incur a $25 fine for not wearing it after sundown, so post-7pm, this is my fashion accessory #2.
• No Bags Allowed, i.e. Do These Cargo Pants Make My Thighs Look Fat? KAF is a man's world, and in a man's world, of course purses are not only unnecessary but prohibited. Civilian guys sure do love their cargo pants here, and girls get roped into it too - how else am I going to get to the DFAC with my phone, sunglasses, and possibly notepad and pen? I have not fully mastered the art of cargo pants yet, though; sometimes I'm amazed at the things guys pull out of their pants around here (and not in that way) - those pockets are like Mary Poppins' handbag!
• Dust. Kandahar is basically a giant dust bowl. Which means, if you look at anyone's shoes or the bottom 4 inches of their pants, they are constantly covered with a brown layer of dust. In fact, the NATO gym requires that you bring an extra pair of shoes when you come to work out because they won't allow you to come inside with the shoes you wore to walk there. For this reason, the U.S. gym, which doesn't have this requirement, is known as the "dirty gym." At least, I think that's why it's known as that...
• Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Well, actually, it's really planes, helicopters, fighter jets and drones. At KAF, which I've been told is the busiest single-runway airport in the world, the sounds of planes taking off and landing is pretty constant, day and night. I've now gotten used to the sound of the jets taking off, although when I first arrived, I was startled because the noise was what I imagined indirect fire would sound like. Sometimes I still get woken up in the middle of the night by the rumble of engines and the whirring of chopper blades overhead.
• Boys with Guns and Big Trucks. Should I be concerned that it doesn't phase me to eat breakfast next to 19-year-olds with M-4s strapped around their backs? You see guns about everywhere you see uniforms, which is, well, pretty much everywhere. On a daily basis I walk by scores of huge MRAPS and Humvees without a second glance. It's easy to forget that these things are not as innocuous as they can seem when you're constantly surrounded by them.
• DFACs, aka Fine Dining KAF Style. We are lucky to have 6 - count them, 6! - Dining Facilities at KAF. One of the most exciting parts of my day is when Jacob comes over from next door, peeks his head in our office and says, "Lunch?" or "Dinner?", and then we commence the discussion about where we will eat that night. Luxembourg is the closest, but Niagara has much better salad options. Cambridge is terrible and far away, so that doesn't enter into the decision-making. But if we're really feeling adventurous, we'll venture even further to Flight Line (our favorite, but a 15-minute drive), Independence (good variety), or East Asia for some curry and stir fry. I'm thinking we need to start our own KAF version of Yelp and post ratings and reviews, because our critiques of the different varieties of cafeteria food are definitely getting more and more refined and sophisticated with time.
• 7-Day Work Weeks. Day off? Who needs one of those?! Well, in reality, Friday is considered a "half day", which means I get to sleep in (glorious!), go into the office around 12, and leave by 8! This schedule definitely makes all the days kind of blend together. Last Saturday, I kept coming close to wishing people a Happy Monday because it felt like the start of a new week after the half-day Friday "weekend."
• 4-Digit Codes. Our little compound within the base is full of doors with codes. A code to get in through the gate, a code to get in the gate inside the gate to where our office is, a code to get in the door to the office. Considering what seems like excessive security within security within security, it's a little odd that no codes are necessary to enter the building where we live...
• There's Nothing Like the Smell of Excrement in the Morning... and the Afternoon... and the Evening. You could say that KAF has a "poop problem," meaning, we can build an entire society and infrastructure in the middle of a war-torn province, but we can't figure out what to do with our own shit (literally). Thus, the delightful smell of excrement often wafts up from our famous "poop pond" downwind (or upwind? I always get those confused).
• KAF Money. Yes, KAF has its own (legal?) tender! When I go to the PX and give the cashier $20 for a $19.75 purchase, I won't get a quarter back, but a cardboard circle that looks like piece to a board game that says 25 cents on it. They also have these lovely game pieces in 5 and 10 cent denominations. Good at KAF only! 
• The Boardwalk. The KAF Boardwalk is famous throughout Afghanistan. It is what it sounds like - boards that you walk on lined with shops and restaurants and cafes. Its pretty much the social center of the base - in the evenings you can find salsa dancing lessons and karaoke, and at any time during the day there will be people sitting at tables smoking and talking, guys in PT playing football or hockey. The other day we walked by a rousing hockey match between Slovakia and Canada. I actually really love the Boardwalk. It makes me happy to see people smiling, relaxing, socializing and having fun in the middle of such a desolate place.

Things I Like About the Military

Over the last 6 weeks, I've had more interaction with the military than I ever thought I would (and this is still all pre-KAF!) through meetings, briefings, presentations, trainings, and friendships. At first it kind of felt like an anthropological undertaking, then I was surprised by how much I didn't hate it. Now, as I take time to reflect a little more seriously about what it is I've liked and appreciated about the military interactions I've had, it almost surprises me that I was surprised I didn't hate it. These are just first, nascent impressions - and I understand that my interactions thus far are not necessarily representative of what it will be like living with thousands of 20-year-old enlisted guys. But I realized there is actually quite a lot about the military that fits well with my natural personality and preferences. I'm sure by the end of the year I'll be able to make an equally long list of things about military culture that decidedly do NOT fit with my personality, but for the sake of maintaining a positive outlook, at least at the beginning :)...

Things I Like about the Military that Surprised Me, but Shouldn't Have:

1. Someone in one of my trainings said that working with other agencies will be like learning new cultures, and she encouraged us to approach these cultures with open minds. This has been a great perspective for me to have and I find learning military culture to be fascinating! The symbols, patches, rules, etiquette, acronyms, hierarchy - it's a whole new world, but for some reason, I just love soaking all this stuff up!
2. Soldiers are on time. They arrive on time, start on time, and finish on time. My Meyers-Briggs INTJ LOVES this. I HATE it when people are not on time, or think they are so important that they can give a 45-minute presentation when they were only given 30 minutes to talk. Who do you think you are? After 32 minutes, I will completely shut you out and start getting angry at you for disrespecting me and my time (a big reason sermons drive me batty!). I always loved seeing a uniform at my trainings because I knew s/he was going to end on time!
3. Military people know how to give effective, organized presentations. Every military PowerPoint I've seen starts with a slide listing the agenda. THANK YOU! Not only do you actually KNOW what you're going to say, but you're telling me! I hate presenters who ramble on and don't give me an indication of where they're going or when they're going to finish. Give me a bullet-point list, please!
4. Officers - at least - think strategically. Today I sat down with a Lieutenant Colonel who talked to me for an hour about the military strategy in Afghanistan - what we've done, what we're doing now, what we plan to do in the future, why we're doing it that way, what we expect to happen. Regardless of what I may think about the strategy itself, I was quite impressed by the strategic planning and thinking that went into it!
5. Most of the military guys I've met (aside from the occasional Captain America wannabe) have no-bullshit attitudes. They aren't about sugar-coating things, or putting something in flowery language, or saying something in 5 sentences when you could say it in one. Diplomats and development wonks can talk in circles about things for ages, but I appreciate military-style brevity and straightforwardness in communication.
6. Soldiers will go places no one else is willing to go. In short, they're just plain badass. The fact that this is appealing to me causes a bit of cognitive dissonance considering peacebuilders probably aren't supposed to think the guys with the guns are cool. But, at the risk of deeply offending all the military people I know by comparing them to Peace Corps volunteers, I'm going to do it. PCVs may be granola-eating hippies, but they are willing to go to a lot of places no one else is willing to go, and live under conditions (rural villages, sparse electricity, no running water, no internet) most people wouldn't come close to with a 10,000-foot pole. In the same way, and even more hard core, soldiers willingly go to acutely dangerous places and don't complain. This in itself is commendable.

Who knew? Here's to continuing to be open to unlikely partners!

Oh, the Difference 5 Years Makes

Five and a half years ago, I left home (California) for Kyrgyzstan on my 25^th birthday. On that day I did, no doubt, embark on what proved to be a grand life-changing adventure (about which you can read if you explore this blog’s archives from September 2005 - November 2007 :)). However, it’s been interesting for me to contrast how I felt leaving home on that day in September with how I felt this time around – leaving my DC home for Afghanistan.

The day I left for Kyrgyzstan I was an emotional basket case. I bawled saying goodbye to my friends and family at the airport, I bawled sitting by myself at the gate waiting to board the plane, I bawled all the way from Fresno to San Francisco reading the book of letters friends and family had written me. It felt like what I was doing was so huge, and two years seemed like such a long, incomprehensible time period. I mourned moving so far away from the people I loved most, who knew me best. I was excited, but also anxious – feeling like I was getting ready to jump off a cliff and I didn’t know what would happen once I leapt from the precipice. I knew I was definitely going to jump, but wondered what exactly I had gotten myself into, and whether or not I was really glad I had gotten myself into it!

Three days ago I left for what will no doubt be another life-changing adventure in Afghanistan, but I felt completely different. There were no tears when I boarded the plane, there was no fear or anxiety – I felt completely (and perhaps strangely!) calm and ready, as if I was doing what anyone might do on a typical May 9^th. After an overnight layover in Dubai, I took some time on the flight to Kabul to read the notes and letters people have written me over the last few months – and instead of making me cry, they made me smile and feel encouraged and empowered for the journey ahead. Rather than feeling like I am jumping off a cliff into the unknown, I feel like my feet are taking steps they were always meant to take. The way forward is still largely unknown and I expect to encounter new and bigger challenges, yet I feel at peace.

So I’ve wondered: What’s the difference? Well, five years, for starters. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong or feeling anything inappropriate when I left for Kyrgyzstan. It was a big deal. But I was younger and in a different place. Though I’d left home at different points before then, I’d always come back – Fresno was still home, so leaving was harder than it is now after having made another home for myself in DC. Though I’d traveled overseas before, it was never for more than 3 months at a time. Though I’d had some practice coming and going, I was generally used to being literally close to my closest friends and family. This time around, I have more practice and confidence in both my and my friends’ abilities to maintain those relationships across large distances. At 30, one or two years just doesn’t seem like that long anymore. I know what it’s like to live overseas, so it’s not so much of a mystery. This move to Afghanistan is just as momentous for me – if not more so – but it’s been encouraging to look back and see that I’m not the same person I was when I was 25. I have five more years of preparation and more tools to make this adventure a success – with less fear, and more peace.

Lessons I Learned Job-Searching that Should Come in Handy in Afghanistan (and Beyond)

I loved grad school and can't imagine going into my field without the knowledge I gained about things like conflict theory, dynamics, escalation and analysis, peace processes, cultural considerations in conflict resolution, and peacebuilding interventions like mediation, negotiation, dialogue, and problem-solving workshops. The flip side of that is the training I'm finishing now in skills necessary for living in combat zones like working with military counterparts, wearing body armor, convoy protocol, emergency medical response, small arms familiarization, and tactical driving. But in between the MA and the job was this strange and beautiful "holding period" called job searching. In the 9 months from March to December 2010, I applied for 108 jobs before getting an offer from OTI. 108! However frustrated and discouraged I felt at times, this season was a precious one and I will always look back on it with gratitude because I learned some invaluable lessons that I didn't get in grad school or in my job training. Those 9 months, though difficult, were not just about waiting idly for the right opportunity to come along, but were necessary preparation for the next adventure. Thus, things I learned job searching that should come in handy in Afghanistan:

Fight
You don't get your dream job by sitting around in your pajamas waiting for someone to offer it to you on a silver platter (although that would have been nice for my ego). I'm good at being flexible, accommodating, and enduring hardship. I can take what life throws at me and adjust. While acceptance and capitulation work in some situations, I learned that sometimes I need to stand down and fight! Not just let life happen to me, but fight the bad and fight FOR the good. It was impossible to job search from a position of passivity and anonymity. I had to be out there, taking initiative and risks, owning responsibility, and making a way for myself. The shadows are safe, but I am well-positioned for nothing there. Likewise (and perhaps paradoxically), I have to fight for peace - it doesn't just happen on its own. I have to work hard and take initiative to MAKE peace, over and over and over and over again - without giving up or capitulating to the forces that seek to steal it. Peacebuilding is a battle!

Access the Good
I realized my natural tendency is to default to self-pity in difficult circumstances. But in the season of job searching, I was challenged to walk through the valley not with head hung low, but with eyes open to the good that was accessible. Instead of retreating to the familiar "woe is me" stance when faced with desolate-feeling situations like constant rejection and running out of money, I learned instead to choose to ask the questions: What can I learn right now that I couldn't learn under other circumstances? What is the opportunity? Where is the good here? How am I to respond in the midst of this? As I enter into countries affected by warfare - some of the most desolate and hopeless in the world - how important it will be for me to see opportunity and access the good even when it seems like things can't get any worse. There is always a way to turn the valley into a place of springs, but you have to look for it.

Hope
I was full of hope about my next step when I finished grad school, which came under serious fire as my number of applications mounted (50, 60, 80, 100!) over several months with little to no evidence that I was making any progress at all. Here there was a challenge - would I believe solely in the reality I could see on the surface, or would I choose to believe there was more going on behind the scenes than I could see with my eyes? I had to choose daily not to lose heart and not to throw away my confidence, but believe that it would be rewarded - holding on to hope beyond what seemed rational at times. I think this type of hope and perseverance are essential to the work of building peace. Often when all seems lost is when we are closest to breakthrough - what a shame it would be to give up right before you got there!

Patience & Timing
Even though I was looking for a job during this whole season, I realized that life is not primarily about striving for outcomes, but faithfulness on the journey - transformation, not destination. When I fix my eyes on an outcome, no matter how noble, it's too easy to lose sight of the good around me in the present, to lose hope in the face of obstacles, and to try to rush the process - when often the process is more valuable than the outcome. Seasons have their own rhythms, and there is nothing I can do to slow or rush them - the best thing I can do is simply engage that pace and enjoy it, taking advantage of the present and the unique opportunities it offers to grow and learn. Likewise, peace is a process, not a destination. Timing is important when it comes to peacebuilding interventions - better to look for opportunities to engage with change agents and movements going on in the present moment (however small) than try to force an outcome that may actually be a year (or 5 or 20) down the road.

9 months of job searching was no party, but what had the potential to look like a desolate valley actually turned out to be a place of springs that prepared me for the next part of the journey. And did I mention that at the end of it all, I got my dream job? Yeah, I'd call that a win.

One in a Thousand

I'm pretty used to being in the majority. I grew up going to church in the conservative Central Valley of California, where (despite California stereotypes) most people are church-goers. I was a middle-class white high school student in north Clovis, where the student body is - you guessed it - largely white and middle-class. I celebrated the election and inauguration of Barack Obama while living in Washington, DC, which voted for Obama at something like 92%. Even when I've been a minority in terms of power (as a woman), I've still tended to be in the majority in terms of numbers. My grad school program in International Peace & Conflict Resolution was something like 80% female - in my first semester my two IPCR classes had a combined total of three men.

All that is about to change because: I'm moving to Afghanistan! There, it's no exaggeration to say I'll be something like one in a thousand. My future home, Kandahar Air Field (KAF), is home to about 35,000 people - a military base, but a veritable city. All the numbers I've come across say that somewhere around 34,965 of those people are Air Force and Army. Yup, I'll be one of just 35 civilians living and working among a sea of airmen, privates, sergeants, lieutenants, captains, colonels, and maybe even generals. One in a thousand! An Army friend estimated that about 20% of these are likely to be women - pretty much the inverse of my grad school experience.

For those who know me, this is pretty freaking hilarious. Lisa, the Mennonite Brethren FPU graduate, Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, former intern at the Woodrow Wilson Center Conflict Prevention Project, the World Vision Peacebuilding Team and the Alliance for Peacebuilding, MA in International Peace & Conflict Resolution, for crying out loud! - bumming around with 35,000 military in a war zone?? At the same time as I shake my head at the irony, I think: It's really not that hilarious at all. Afghanistan - KAF - is exactly where I want to be. After all, if I can't be a peacebuilder in a war zone, what's the point of being a peacebuilder? Isn't that pretty much where we want the peacebuilding to be happening?

I have a lot to learn, and I'm ready to start learning it. Soon the next great adventure begins: Life as one in a thousand, and one in the land of a thousand splendid suns. I hope you enjoy the journey with me as I navigate the new waters of life in the minority - in more ways than one!