The reasons I chose to help solve problems abroad rather than at home are selfish and selfless.
Anyone who has worked in development, humanitarianism or a social enterprise knows that the appeal of helping others is at least partially rooted in self-gratification. Sometimes, it is easier to find that personal satisfaction in problems far away than in problems close to home, especially when “home” places greater importance on who we are rather than what we do.
My first epiphany happened during a trip back to my parents’ homeland as a young child. My cousin pointed out a shabby desk and a few pencils as her most prized possessions, as something of which she was extremely proud. That moment was humbling in the face of the consumer culture that was already normal to me at age eight. That afternoon, I started to dream about levelling the global playing field and creating a world in which my cousins would have as much opportunity as me.
As I grew up, I saw the irony of understanding the danger of extreme income inequality through a visit abroad. While my cousin was struggling to survive, so too were thousands of people who grew up in a 30-mile radius of me. I don’t know if my lack of neighbourly empathy was a wilful ignorance coated in my own narcissism, or if it was something more rudimentary – I was treated horribly growing up. A female, a person of colour, a tomboy, non-Christian – the insults were as plentiful as the number of impoverished people in my school. This experience made it incredibly hard for me to care about the problems that faced my neighbourhood.
It took me a long time to understand why. The expression “giving a voice to the voiceless” seemed so trite until I realised I didn’t have a voice growing up. People who looked like me were not on TV or in the media; issues facing my ethnic community were not discussed in any significant way on the national stage; the markers I associated as part of my identity were vilified as evil. The problems I faced were not deemed problems to my nation and so, I found myself gravitating away from my nation entirely.
Instead, I found it easier to get lost in the problems abroad. In other countries, I was not this or that; I was simply me. I was simply there to help. I was simply appreciated. If I was questioned about who I was or the decisions I made, I always had the option to leave. At home, I understood the reasons why I, based on my background, might not be accepted. Abroad, I always had the option to write off a person’s judgment as a cultural impasse.
I suspect the lack of warmth, pride, identification and resonance in one’s homeland is what drives many of us to the reductive seduction of problems abroad. Indeed, in my years in development, many of my colleagues have referred to this idea in varying terms. Black and Italian, a Swedish Brazilian Portuguese accent, Baha’i with Sufi influences, a third or fourth culture kid – any combination of person works in international development. And though with varying degrees of acceptance, openness and safety, many of us find refuge in forging our identity away from the place that made us aware we are “different” from the mainstream home culture.
Since I first began in development, the pendulum of the news media and mainstream culture in my home country has swung to being more open and inclusive. Diversity is increasingly being seen as a strength, not something to suppress. Though there is still a long way to go, these steps forward have increased my desire to help those at home because I now see myself as part of my country.
The relief that comes with finally feeling at home is enormous. Still, as a humanitarian, it can be uncomfortable to acknowledge that how I feel and how I am treated, rather than where need is greatest, decides where I work.
Do you have a secret aid worker story you’d like to tell? You can contact us confidentially at globaldevpros@theguardian.com – please put “Secret aid worker” in the subject line. If you’d like to encrypt your email to us, here’s instructions on how to set up a PGP mail client and our public PGP key.
Join our community of development professionals and humanitarians. Follow@GuardianGDP on Twitter.
