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How Studying Abroad Taught Me to Become a More Well-Rounded Feminist

Guapas! Cena! My Señora calls out from the kitchen. The four of us pop up from our desks, surrounded by readings about Spanish History and travel guides and outlines for term papers, ready for a filling meal from our wonderful host family. I pause for a second in the hallway and take in the smells – fresh chicken, croquettaspan con tomate, pasta, and, I’m fairly sure, a hint of broccoli – and realize a. how hungry I am and b. how much my time abroad in Barcelona has taught me about myself and about being a feminist.

Since I was in my early teens, I’ve considered myself a feminist. It didn’t come easily - at first, I struggled with it. It felt like a dirty word; one that was ancient and used only to describe crazy people who thought all men should die. The fact that my mother is not only a feminist, but an active one at that – serving on the boards of many non-profits and women’s organizations or groups – didn’t aide in my desire for teenage rebellion (eventually, I got over myself).

When I left for my semester in Spain in early January, my mind was racing. How long will I be jet-lagged? Am I going to be able to speak to anyone not American? Crap, I really should have brushed up on my Spanish during break. Do they eat chicken? (Please, don’t ask. Panic makes me ridiculous.) I wonder what my room will be like. I never thought about all the things that would change about my life and about who I was – I think I had assumed that the biggest thing that would change would be my classes and environment, external factors – not the way I think and who I consider myself to be. Then again, does anyone ever really expect themselves to become any different in any experience?

When I first proclaimed myself as a feminist In conversations here – by talking about my internships and interests and life – I had to define what I believed and what I felt about so many things that before, when I said “I’m a feminist”, everyone understood exactly what it meant. I was able to go into really specific statements and everyone understood exactly what I meant, what I was talking about. Here, it’s not that way.

Many of the issues that are majorly important in American feminism just don’t carry the same weight here. And particularly when I explain it in Spanish, things are boiled down to their absolute essence. “I’m a believer in the pro-choice movement” becomes “Yo pienso que las mujeres nescesitan un eleccion para niños o no niños” (I think that women need a choice for kids or no kids). It’s forced me to become even more in touch with what I thought and felt. My ability to be politically correct here is stripped from me, and I had to go with general statements and not-perfect wording to get my thoughts and ideas across. As someone who wants to be as articulate as possible at all times, this was my biggest challenge – letting myself speak simply.

Of course, the cultural differences of being an American girl travelling and getting around (mostly) alone has offered a completely different outlook on the way I think of women being treated and really helped me notice a cultural divide.

Nobody’s ever really harassed me and I’ve never felt threatened in any way – but I’ve certainly felt like my body was on display. A few days, I’ve been walking from the metro to my classes, and guys have literally sidled up next to me to get a better view of my chest, not even bothering to say hello. A few have hollered and whistled at me, made disgusting gestures, and even literally proposition me for sex. It’s taken every fiber of my being not to turn around and slap them, to remind myself that nasty men are everywhere – and here, they’re much more open with sexuality than they are back home (even if they are expressing it in the grossest way possible); to let it go and keep walking. It makes every feminist bone in my body ache, but I now understand why some just ignore it – you never know what kind of violence might be lurking behind that catcall if you were to provoke them.

Above all else, though, I’ve learned endless amounts of knowledge about women in another culture. Here, there’s much more of an emphasis placed on family, with the woman as the head of the household. Because of that, housework isn’t seen as something to be done so the husband doesn’t have to bother – the woman does it to make sure it’s done right. The first child gets the last name of the father, with the second getting a combination of the father and the mother. (For example, if I were to marry James Marsden in Spain, our first child’s last name would be Marsden and the second Marsden Wall. IT COULD HAPPEN.)

When I received my living assignment, I was told I’d be living with Señora Ma Carmen Soler, and not Señor Manuel Francisco. Carmen is the head of the household. She sets the rules – but she also does the bulk of the housework. I’ve seen signs talking about the “Women’s Revolution”, proclaiming the need for women’s rights – but the sentiment in general, day-to-day life simply isn’t as strong – women generally are viewed on an equal plane at most times. Even if they do more housework; they often also hold jobs outside the home and run the show within their own homes. Housework isn’t taken on by the women to make the man’s life easier, it’s to make sure it’s done right and respect is given for that. I’ve got to say, it’s an interesting – and impressive – dynamic.

Studying Abroad has taught me about how to balance my feminist views, boil them down to their essence, and live in – and try to understand - a different culture of women, where housework is primarily done by women; but women have the last word at the dinner table. And, of course, I’ve learned loads about myself – including how to hold back my instincts of slapping any man who might look at me just for my body, and a reminder to work to educate men about learning to not catcall at women (if that’s seriously your best idea to seduce me, we need to work on that) instead of just dismissing them, and above all, to know how to be safe as a 20 year old traveling alone. Overall, It’s been an incredible experience so far – now if you’ll excuse me, my Señora’s delicious croquettas are calling.

Becka also writes for her own blog, Becka Tells All, and has a blog dedicated to chronicling her Study Abroad Experience, Becka en Barcelona.



More articles by Category: Feminism, International
More articles by Tag: Activism and advocacy, College, Europe and Central Asia
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