Growing up, I never traveled. My family couldn’t afford out-of-state vacations. My first time on a plane was at the age of 16, and that was only because a club I was a part of did an annual trip to Washington D.C., all expenses paid. We had to apply for the trip, and only six were selected each year. I was fortunate to be one of them. I remember not owning a suitcase, because I’d never needed one until then.

It was an exciting trip, but perhaps you’re wondering how it relates to being in Ghana. Well
when I talk to the locals and my coworkers–I always get the feeling that they assume I am not
poor because I come from the United States. They also almost always say things like “you’re
not fully American right?” because I obviously don’t look white. I’m not offended by this because I almost always identify myself as Mexican or Latina, rarely American.
I find it more difficult copying with comments about my apparent privilege, perhaps because to some extent I am privileged. I am compared to most of my co-workers, yet I know my struggles back home, and those are always with me.

Today was one of those days of being reminded that I’m really not supposed to be the position I’m in. I was never supposed to go to college, let alone have the opportunity to study abroad, but here I am Ghana. I constantly think about how my parents and family as a whole have sacrificed so much and worked so hard so that I could dream big. Every time I see a street hawker working or a child working–it reminds me of all the childhood stories my parents shared about living in poverty, and how tough it was for them.

It’s hard to process this experience because I was in the privileged position of choosing a
country for study abroad, while my parents were forced to leave their home country to provide a better way of living for me and my siblings. So with this post I would like to honor them and all their sacrifices and hard work.

Los quiero mucho ma y pa.